Perhaps my most humiliating punishment occurred when I was 15, at a Fourth of July picnic hosted by my parents in our back yard. Present were both my sisters, my Aunt (Mom's sister), Uncle and three cousins, 2 boys ages 9 & 14, and a girl age 12 (at the time). My cousins were not spanked after reaching their teen years, and had only gotten it a few times as children. My Aunt had on occasion made it clear to my Mom that she did not approve of spanking teenage children. Of course, my parents did not agree, so there had been some words over this in the past. There had never been an occasion to spank me in front of these relatives, up until that day. Moreover, I was kind of looked up to as the older cousin. That was all to change on this holiday.
I was usually careful to behave when any company was present, knowing the potential for receiving a spanking in front of whoever was there. Somehow this day I lapsed, and got into an argument with my older sister over sharing set-up duties. That alone would not have caused a spanking, but I got real angry and put my foot out and tripped her, as she was carrying a bowl of homemade potato salad. The contents spilled and my Dad witnessed this happen. He went ballistic and started coming after me. He grabbed my arm and I pleaded with him, saying, "Please, Dad, can we do this inside, and not if front of everyone?" Dad momentarily hesitated and I hoped we could go in the house and have some privacy. This was not to be. Dad angrily stated, "You really stepped out of line and I'm going to belt you right here. Too bad who sees it." He forced me to place my hands on the picnic bench.
With mounting horror, I realized what was about to happen to me. Right out in the backyard, where even the next door neighbors, who were in their own yard, could also see what was going on. When Dad told me to drop my shorts and underwear, I hesitated. There was no wall to shield me as there was in the livingroom. From the vantage point of most people in the yard, I would be visible from the front. My shorts had an elastic waist. Dad grabbed them and pulled downwards. In one fell swoop, my shorts and white briefs were at my ankles. I was naked from the waist down in the middle of the back yard, and my short polo shirt was hiding nothing. I recoiled at the thought that everyone there was seeing me naked. I never experienced erections before, after, or during a spanking, as I've read that other guys have. I just never felt _s_e_x_ual excitement, just fear, when the belt or paddle was raised to me. So despite my penis being on display to everyone there, at least it was flaccid.
Dad took off his belt and began to hit my rear end. At this point, I knew that my only hope of salvaging any dignity was to remain composed while taking my punishment. I gritted my teeth, determined not to yell out. After about ten hits, Dad stopped. I was red, flushed, and my eyes were wet; no tears had yet escaped. I prayed he would now stop, but he didn't. When the whipping resumed, I just had to yell out in pain. And as I screamed, I began to cry. After this I just screamed and cried for the rest of the belting, which was more extensive than usual. When it was over, I tumbled to the ground. There I was, the senior cousin, naked and crying in the grass like someone half my age.
No one seemed to move. Through my tears, I could tell no one was laughing. My younger male cousin stood near me, and I noticed that tears were running down his face. My older male cousin came over and both brothers sort of picked me up. My clothes were tangled around my sneakers. He said, "Come on, let's get your pants up." He kind of helped me pull up my underpants. With that I kicked away my shorts and began running towards the house. All I cared about now was getting away from the people who had just witnessed my complete degradation. I must have been quite a sight, a 15 year old bawling and running across the yard clad in only a polo shirt and white briefs.
I ran upstairs to my bedroom and flopped onto the bed. My ass stung tremendously and I just cried and cried. I needed to use the bathroom but was too out of touch to get up. I lost control and wet myself and the bedspread. In a little while my Aunt entered my bedroom, carrying a plate of food. She set it down on my nightstand. She looked upset and said, "Our family feels so bad for you Joe, its put a damper on the picnic and we're leaving soon. If we stay any longer I'm afraid you Uncle and I will be arguing with your parents. I want you to know your cousins aren't laughing at you at all. In fact, they just feel awful and were shocked at what they saw. They've never experienced anything like that in our family. I sat up, my shirt and underpants soaked. I'm sure she must have realized that I had wet myself. My Aunt knelt down and kissed my forehead, and then left the room.
Despite what my Aunt had said, I dreaded having to face my cousins again, knowing the state they had seen me in. Long after the physical damage healed, I felt miserable about what had happened. It turned out to be over a year before we saw them again, even though they didn't live more than 60 miles away. My Aunt had told my Mom that they didn't want to get together again (at either's house) unless Mom & Dad guaranteed not to belt or spank me in front of them. Mom was willing to make that promise but Dad would not. When we finally did go visit them, Dad stayed home. It helped a little that I knew how my relatives felt. I faced them and we all acted like nothing had ever happened. Although realistically, I knew my cousins could never quite think of me in the same way, with the image of my naked and crying state burned into their memories.
This incident also marked a turning point in my relationship with my Dad. Up until then, I had accepted my spankings as valid discipline for my misdeeds. I certainly deserved some of them, and the spankings did deter a repeat of whatever behavior prompted them. Now I nursed a kind of low-key, silent hatred for my father. Between spankings, he was not an uncaring Dad. But the public spanking in the back yard had triggered feelings in me that have never gone away. We would never again have any kind of loving father-son relationship