"Let the Spanking Games Begin" was certainly longer than what appears now, so I will try to pick up the trail.
The rule that would cause Josh the most trouble was "foul language equals blistered bottom." Josh liked to cuss. The day came shortly after we had agreed upon the rules that I heard him use some profanity. "Josh, you know the rules."
"Aw, come on," he plead, "Not even you like the guy."
"Yes, well, that may be true. It is also true I would not be helping you quit cursing as we agreed if I show you mercy." Josh, raised on a farm, liked to wear tight blue jeans. We were behind closed doors in his room when I said, "Turn around, Josh."
"Okay," and he turned and faced his bed.
"Now, unfasten your pants in front. I will take care of the rest."
SNAP. ZZZZZZZZIIIIIPPP.
Hearing the signal, I gently pushed his torso forward on the bed, placing his arms in front of him. Then, I slipped my fingers through his belt loops and began to pull his jeans down, but his pants were so tight I had to use one hand to hold his briefs in place. Pulling one side, then the other, I was able to lower his jeans to his knees. Having accomplished that, I slipped my fingers in his briefs and lowered them also, slowly. Bent over, legs together, his skin was pale, buttocks firmly rounded.
I stepped to back and to the left to have room to spank him. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! "Blistered bottom" was self-explanatory, but we defined the term as meaning an unlimited number of swats on the unclothed buttocks until the person administering the spanking was satisfied. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! I rained swats on his little, bare behind. One cheek, then the other. Up, down, across, now the sides! SMACK! SMACK! Josh began to cry.
"Plee--eeaa--ssssee! I'll-l sttttooopp cur-r-s-sing."
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Then, I stopped, and Josh laid there crying.
Josh was one of the first, most nicely, firmly-rounded butts I have ever spanked, but many other would yet play the game.