Once I was invited to participate in the proceedings at a Penitentiary Inmate Fair. It was a rare privilege. The limit on the number of attendees was strictly adhered to, and slots were usually given only to police officers, fire fighters, paramedics or military personnel. People who had contributed in some way to the public good or had in some way earned the special honor of dishing out a little discipline.
I jumped at the chance. The "unofficial" event was held in the prison exercise yard each August, between two rows of squat, roofless rooms known as "the cubicles." You see, prison is a jungle; and there are all kinds of ways in which the strong or the connected get away with murder. But this day was the Great Equalizer, and men who have to take part--whether gang leaders, politicians or mob bosses--well, those guys surely make a hefty down payment on their debts to society. Whatever their positions in the pecking order, today they learn the smart and sting of punishment.
First off, the unlucky convicts selected for this event had to present themselves before the public in the shame of leg irons, stripped to the waist. Clad only in his striped convict pants, each man placed his hands on his head, as a small sign was affixed to his chest. This announced his crime. While the inmates slowly marched around a track, the visitor is allowed to roam about, and find a convict he'd like to punish.
I selected a tall blond prisoner with a crew cut. The little sign on him said "Robbery with Assault."
"Alright pal," I stated. It was not the usual procedure, but I thought a little public humiliation was in order. I signaled a guard to stand by, and he made sure the prisoner kept his hands on top of his head. I reached down and unzipped him! The man gasped, but he had to stand there; down they went, to delighted whistles and laughter as I de-pantsed him! He had good reason to be embarrassed, too: his cotton shorts were sticking way out with a king sized erection. Smiling, I grabbed the seat of his BVD's with one hand and his red, jug head ear with the other. Away we went, ho ho; and I marched him off double time to the spanking cubicles, where the ring of smacks and cries was heard. Bystanders laughed to see him stumble forward as I yanked him along.
A paddle was readily attained; you simply requested one from a booth at the entrance, where they hung by the dozen. They were of all styles and sizes, painted merrily and adorned with admonishing mottoes and dedications; some made especially for the occasion. A couple of uniformed police officers stood by admiring them, and a young marine was smacking one across his palm, to test its effectiveness.
I chose a long narrow paddle, in addition to a wide, stiff strap with a wooden handle. I was told that my first choice was a type used in Kentucky schools, and very well known to boys in those parts. It was about 30 inches long and 2.5 inches wide, light and strong. It sported a picture on the business end of two young men bending over, pants down, as an angry teacher taught a lesson with the paddle. The legend underneath read: "An Application of the Board of Education!" "I plan to take that advice!" I laughed.
We entered the corridor, and the guard accompanied us to a cubicle; but just then one of the officer's colleagues poked his head out of a door farther down the hall. "You fellas better get in here and see this," he grinned.
In the middle of the wide bare cell a hairy, thick-set Italian squatted, already naked, awaiting his punishment. He looked to be about in his mid-forties, and the sign on his chest said "Wise Guy." This didn't mean that he mouthed off too much, but that he was in the mob. Three guards were in attendance. The stocky convict hung his head, bare bottom on the stool, holding his penis and testicles. A tall man in a suit and tie placed his black leather briefcase on the bench. The guards were taunting the prisoner and told him he better enjoy sitting down while he still could. I steered my charge, accompanied by our guard, who introduced himself to me as Phil, over to a corner where some chairs were set up beneath a sign that said "Graciano Gets the Board!" Graciano the mob boss? I was going to enjoy seeing this bastard taken down a peg! The man in the suit now opened his briefcase and withdrew a jar of grease and a wooden paddle. It was a board about 20 inches long with a rounded handle, 4 inches across and a half an inch thick, with rows of larger holes down either side, and 4 smaller holes down the middle.
Now Graciano had to stand and wear a dunce cap, facing the bricks. With his legs apart, he had to hold his hands behind his neck and touch the wall with his nose. Because he stood about two feet back, this made him bend at the knees and waist, with his round behind stuck out.
He hadn't got a swat yet, and already the guards were laughing. "Looks like we got one tough guy on the Hot Seat," they gloated. "Excellent technique, professor!"
"Thank you, gentlemen," he nodded, and unscrewed the lid from his jar. Taking a gob of goo, he knelt and reached where the prisoner's thick, heavy tool hung from the woolly undergrowth of his groin and, to the latter's gasp of surprise, began to apply the grease.
"What the-- What's that for!?" choked the convict, almost sobbing.
"Oh, why, we're going to embarrass you a little," the man chuckled. He worked quickly, briskly spreading the goo over the full length of the heavy shaft; and soon the poor fellow's member extended wide and stiff, pointing upward, it's hairy load of dangling balls hoisted.
Now the Professor picked up the paddle. "You're going to be spanked, Mr. Graciano," he said sternly, "right here in front of everyone, and your punishment is fifty swats!"
WHAAACKKK!!
With a swift, wide stroke, the man swung the paddle and slammed it with a loud, resounding SWAT against Mr. Graciano's bare seat. His penis lurched forward, elongating further.
SWWAAAATT!!
Man, that paddle must have stung. The prisoner sucked his breath in through his teeth and replanted his feet, to brace himself. The pink imprint of the swat was visible across the hairy behind, with reddening welts from the holes.
"AAOWW!! _s_h_i_t_!!" gasped the mobster.
"This is a new design," the professor explained to the guard, "intended for use upon the grown male heinie. It's designed for maximum sting and embarrassment. Smarts the old ego as well as the backside," he chuckled, swinging back.
WHAAACCKKK!!
As the punishment continued, the prisoner's eyes got moist. On swat 23, he burst into tears. "I'll get you for this, you _f_u_c_k_S!" he yelled, sobbing, as the vigorous professor reddened his fanny.
"The only thing you're going to GET is a _d_a_m_n_ good paddling!" promised the disciplinarian.
WHAAPP!! POPP!! He spanked harder now, earnestly and diligently, increasing the intensity of the swats and quickening his pace as he smacked his hairy prisoner's deeply reddening rear.
To my surprise, my big charge was enjoying this spectacle. He wore a grin from ear to ear as the mobster got his spanking, and chuckled when the bastard yelled. His briefs were tenting out so far the waistband had separated from his lower abdomen!
"Don't forget this, my friend!" I reminded him, showing him my paddle.
"I know about that," he acknowledged. It didn't seem to upset him too much, however. "Look at him get it," he reached down and scratched his balls. "He's gettin' a good lesson!" I had to agree. I had never seen a man get swatted so hard, and yet every fiber of my being affirmed the rightness and appropriateness of the punishment.
The professor planted his hand on the prisoner's back now to anchor himself as he went into the home stretch. Raising the paddle high, he swung hard and spanked with all his strength.
WHAAPP!
"Forty-eight!"
WHAAACCKKK!!
"Forty-nine!"
SWWAAAATT!!
"YEEEOOOWWWW!!" screamed Graciano.
"FIFTY!" yelled all three guards together, myself and my prisoner joining in.
Graciano jumped up, grabbing his ass. "GOD DAMMITT!!" he yelled. He jumped up and down in the dunce cap with his shining dick bouncing all over the place. The officers laughed and laughed as the mobster rubbed his butt, tears were streaming down his face.
"Well Mr. Graciano," the professor said," you've received a good paddling, and now you get a turn in the stocks!"
We had passed an old-fashioned pillory on a mound in the middle of the yard, like men were once made to stand in in days of old. I burst out laughing at the thought of the hairy crime boss in that emabarrassing contraption, all in his bare birthday suit!
"Ok you're next, Mr. Big!" I said, propelling my convict forward. The professor was just putting away his jar and paddle, when I reached and grabbed his hand.
"That was a fine spanking!" I said, pumping his arm enthusiastically, "He won't forget the ol' paddle for a while!"
"Harold Spencer," he panted with a smile, wiping his forehead as he shook my hand. "Let's hope it does him some good."
"Let's hope so," I agreed. "Well," I said, "I've got some business to attend to now with this big dummy here." My convict appeared ashamed and nervous. He was beginning to sweat, and his briefs were out so far that a downward glance revealed his golden hedge of undergrowth, transected by the thick trajectory of a large wide penis.
"The ol' schoolboy paddle," Professor Spencer nodded as he saw my instrument, "Prepare for an excellent lesson!" he told the prisoner. "Mind if I watch it get used?" he asked.
"Not at all," I replied. "As a matter of fact, I almost wonder if I might try out some of your equipment."
"By all means," he agreed. "First use plenty of this to let him know he's in the Dog House," Mr. Spencer instructed, showing me the jar of 'Embarrassment Grease,' as the label said, "and when he's good and upset about it, why, it's about time to paddle!"
The professor then went and sat down where Phil and the other three guards had taken their seats. Graciano, in his underpants, had to squat between them.
First I had my prisoner wear the dunce cap and stand before the spectators. He was in a state of dread and expectation, scarlet with embarrassment. I asked him then to clasp his hands behind his neck. I took hold of his briefs; and as I pulled them down, we were met with the sight of one of the longest, thickest dicks ever seen at full pink and alabaster attention--curving upward with excitement.
I asked the prisoner to state his name and why he was going to be punished, wanting to give him a little time to stand with his pants down in the dunce cap in front of the everyone while I waited with the paddle .
"Hoskins," he said huskily. "Armed robbery."
"Well," I barked at him, "looks like it's time for a little paddling party, and you're the Guest of Honor! Touch you nose to the wall, Mr. Hoskins!"
Spreading his sturdy legs, I had him lean forward resting his hands on his thighs and put his nose in a little circle I drew. His strong butt was going to be a pleasure to swat. I took the jar, and glancing up I saw his tears of shame as I applied the embarrassment grease. I spread it thickly, taking my time, and didn't forget his testicles. I grabbed the paddle, and positioned myself behind the prisoner to blister some butt.
WHAAAACKK!!
I laid the ol' board across Hoskins' fanny so hard, he literally jumped.
"God _d_a_m_n_!" He gasped, and had to reposition himself, widening his stance. I gave him a second, then I began to administer the butt-busting.
SWWAAATT!! SWWAAATT!! SWWAAATT!!
"AAAGGHH!!" he bellowed, stamping his legs, as the guards laughed uproariously. (It was obvious from their expressions that out of the whole year, this was the day they lived for. No wonder, with all the _s_h_i_t_ they have to take in their jobs.)
"Still has the good ol' sting," I chuckled. "Think about why you're here now when I give you a swat!" I instructed.
"Yes Sir," he answered hoarsely, keeping his nose touched to the wall. With that fair complexion, the licks already received stood out crimson on his big seat, with beads of sweat in the red-blond fleece of his crack!
"Last warm-up!"
SWWAAATT!!
"AAOOWWW!! OWW!! Oww, _f_u_c_k_!!"
"Now we start your paddling. Count your swats, Hoskins!"
WHAAAACKK!!
"One Sir!!"
WHAAAACKK!!
"TWO SIR!!"
WHAAAACKK!!
"AAAAGGHHH!!!! THREE SIR!!" he roared.
The Spencer paddle felt light and balanced in my hand, wonderful to use. I swung wide and slammed it into his butt as hard as I could, as the cubicle rang with deeply satisfying smacks. It wasn't heavy enough to do him any harm, but _d_a_m_n_, I could tell it hurt. I had him snuffling and misty at 16, and choking back sobs at 18, which probably made me lay into it a little harder. At number 21 he started to bawl, and the men began to taunt him. "Bad boy in the Principal's office!" they called. "Bendin' over for a paddlin!" I didn't despise or think less of him though. He never cursed or berated me during the licking, but seemed serious about learning a lesson from his punishment. I laid on 25 good swats, then decided to give him a short break.
I had him straighten up and turn around. _s_h_i_t_, you thought that dick was big before, you should have seen it now! A long, hanging strand of pre-cum stretched toward the floor from the massive red head, standing nearly to the height of his navel! I nodded, satisfied that the punishment was having an effect, and picked up the long narow schoolhouse paddle.
"A paddling in the Principal's office it is," I said. "Step right in, young man!" As the guards chuckled merrily, I had him come and stand on the line of tape in front of the spectators. "Perhaps Mr. Graciano would like get up here too," I suggested.
"Good idea," Phil said. "Ok wise guy, front and center!"
Soon both men were lined up with their BVD's down, touching their toes; and I began to teach a lesson the old-fashioned way.
Swat!! Swat!! Swat!!
Just like in the picture, I applied the Board of Education to the Seat of Learning!
Swat!! Swat!! Swat!!
It felt just as great as the Spencer model, but different, wonderful to grip and swing. I knew too, with satisfaction, that it was also more embarrassing for the prisoners, and so I paddled them harder.
Swat!! Swat!! Swat!!
It wasn't long before the two big men were crying in front of the jolly, back-slapping guards. "The Principal swats hard," they laughed. "Excellent job, Principal Jones! Apply that Board of Education! Paddle them good!"
When I had given each 25 good swats, I put the paddle down.
"What about that little history lesson, Professor?" I got the prison strap, and the four guards grabbed the two prisoners by their ears and armpits, and we dragged them with their bare bottoms straight to the old Public Stocks!
A man was already being punished with a long, 3 foot switch. He grunted and grit his teeth in tears of rage as the rod of correction smacked his rump. Yep, I thought, this was the right way to finish the penalty. We waited a couple of minutes while man's sentence was completed, then we were up.
A large crowd having gathered to enjoy his punishment, and Mr. Graciano had a fine audience when we put him in the stocks. Why, the thick leather was so stiff, it was almost a paddle. WHAAAACKK!! Professor Spencer gave him 12 hard swats, and he yelled at every one. By the deep shame in his face, you could tell that they were effective. Then it was Hoskins' turn. People laughed at the big pink and white giant as he got his thick neck and wrists locked in the pillory; then I stood back and swung the punishment strap. WHHOPPP-SMMAAACKK!! I licked him good and I licked him hard, WHHOPPP-SMMAAACKK!! WHHOPPP-SMMAAACKK!! WHHOPPP-SMMAAACKK!!--and on the tenth lick he came. He spurted, he shot; long and hard, high and far, and all over the wooden platform as I swatted his bottom; I continued paddling him as he bawled and shot, and I'll tell you I really made them count!
All in all it was an incredible day, and I got to see some other men disciplined. If you ever get a chance to do it, don't turn it down--I highly recommend it. If you ever find yourself on the receiving end at one of these things--good luck, buddy! You won't like it, but you'll sure as hell learn a lesson you'll never forget!