"Before I forget, Dad called."
I looked over the top of my book to where the kid was sprawled on the couch.
"What's he up to these days?" I inquired. The kid had been calling my father Dad since his first spanking he received from him.
"He told me to tell you that he is pretty sure he had the spanking machine perfected this time," answered the kid, "and he wants to know if we could make it out this weekend to test it out."
"You can be the guinea pig this time," I snorted, "I almost got gelded by that thing last time!"
"Dad assures me that he has reinforced the arm on it," said the kid, "and besides, when the paddle went flying across the room the arm didn't hit you anywhere near your nuts, it smacked you at least two inches above anything vital."
"Maybe not," I replied, "but it did smack me six times before Dad managed to override the controls and turn it off. I don't mind getting my butt paddled but I draw the line at getting it whacked with a stick. I had welts back there for a week."
"And cute welts they were," said the kid, getting up from the couch and crossing the room to kiss me. "You'll have to admit that I did a great job of nursing you back to health."
That he did, putting cream on the welts in the morning and again at night until they were healed. Those welts, and especially the location on my butt where they were located, did put a crimp in my life style for a while, not to mention my sitting comfortably. I can tell you for sure that if I lived in a country where they used the cane for punishment I'd be a very good citizen indeed.
I guess I should say that after our long weekend at the pond last summer, now six months in the past, the kid and I decided that we suited each other very well in everything that we do and like and he moved into my house with me. We were equal partners in everything, he was sharing on the expenses on the house and I even let him drive the Jag once in a while and I don't do that lightly.
We had managed to get the wooden spanking horse home that Dad had made and given us and it was a real pain hauling it, pieces of well finished wood sticking out of the tied down trunk of the Jag on the way home, and it now rested in splendor in a bedroom that we converted into our play room. Of course the kid was sleeping with me in the waterbed in my bedroom and that left us with two spare bedrooms yet if we had house guests overnight. Of course one of the bedrooms was fitted out like a typical teenage boy's room and that was the one that we got sent to if it fitted in with our fantasy du jour. Lot's of butt smacking had been done in that room.
"It's been a while since we went out to the farm," said the kid, "we've been kind of ignoring poor old Dad."
"Don't worry," I replied, "if he feels ignored enough he'll let us know. Most likely on that new machine of his. I guess maybe we should go for a visit this weekend."
All summer long the kid and I had made the trek to the farm but that was only a stopover on the way to the fishing camp. The weather was getting nippy now and the water of the pond nowhere near as welcoming as it was so we had cut back on these trips. The last time we visited Dad went with us and we hauled that big old maple tree back as wood for the kitchen stove using a trailer hauled behind the Land Rover. We had a great time that weekend and Dad had also not forgotten the traditions that went with the camp, both the kid and I had gotten one good spanking while we were there and they were administered one on one out in the privy with the paddle. Sitting on the porch of the building and hearing the old familiar sounds of wood smacking boy hide followed soon by yelps and howling from the kid when Dad took him out for some inspiration to work brought back many memories. Not to mention giving me a woody that almost burst the front of my pants.
I heard Dad calling my name and got up and met the kid on his way back to the cabin. He had red eyes and streaks on his face.
"Dad is playing for real," he said, "be ready to get your ass tanned in good shape."
I kissed him and said, "Thanks for the warning. Wait to jerk off until later, we'll sneak away and compare bottoms and play with each other." He giggled as he walked back to the house and I made my way out to the privy.
When I went into the privy Dad was sitting on the middle hole just like he always did in days past. "It's been a while, son," he said, "but I bet that you remember what to do."
"Sure do, Dad," I replied as I took my shoes and socks, pants and underwear off and lay myself down over his knees as I had so many times in the past. Bottom bared and up and ready to be spanked.
"Dad," I said, looking at the worn wood of the privy floor, "I wonder how many times I got spanked out here."
"Plenty," he said, "you were always doing something to end up out here getting smacked. We used to keep a log of when we spanked one of our boys, I bet it's still there in the cabin in its hiding place." Wow, I never knew that the dads kept track of that!
I don't know why unless it was the atmosphere of the place or because it was Dad spanking me instead of the kid but as the wood started smacking my bare butt I started to leak tears a bit and shortly was bawling as lustily as I did when I was a kid getting punished out here. Don't get me wrong, it was a pretty darn hot spanking Dad gave me and my bum was stinging like mad afterwards but if the kid and I had been doing it my howls would have been faked pretty much and there wouldn't be tears running down my face. I figure that getting a spanking and how you react to the pain is quite a bit mental as well as physical, this one was sort of a punishment, the ones the kid and I do are for fun.
When my spanking was done and I was allowed to get dressed, it being too cold and seeming as we had work to do to have me run around pantless as in the past, we went back into the building. Dad walked over to one of the walls and pushed a knot on the pine boards that formed the walls and a panel dropped down. I never knew that compartment was there! He pulled out a dusty old ledger style book and blew it off and brought it over to the table.
"First things first," he said, and opened the book to the last entry and pulled a pen out of his pocket. He wrote the day's date and our names and then 'paddled for balking at helping to get wood for stove' and initialed it. "There," he said, pushing the book over to me, "it's official now."
I opened the book to the first page and found 'Punishment Log' written on the fly leaf. Turning to the first page I gawked at it as I saw the first entry was about forty years before! Boys had been getting their butts tanned since before I was born.
"Jimmy," said one entry, "spanked for disobedience." "Bill, paddled for shirking chores," read another. In a couple of dozen different hands and inks or pencils there was a history of how many boys wet the floor of the privy with their tears as their dads warmed their backsides.
I did a little mental math and figured out just about what date it would have been the first time I got spanked out in that old privy. Sure enough, there is was, my name followed by 'spanked for not minding'. I did some more mental math and there was my first experience with the paddle and it was even listed as such with my name followed by 'paddled for skipping out on chores, first time with paddle, most effective, will have to use paddle in future' followed by Dad's initials.
"Dad," I said, "can I bring this home to look over?"
"Sure," he answered, "just make sure that it gets put back, it's a piece of the history of this place."
That book was the topic of many a discussion between the kid and me once he had moved in, I told him about all the spankings that had left their impression on me, both an impression on my own ass and the asses of others. Funny how much you can remember when you get your memory banks prodded by something like this book. I even found the entry where the two men swapped sons and spanked them to end the fight about which father spanked the hardest. Funny thing is both of those boys agreed that it didn't seem to make a lot of difference who did the spanking, it still hurt like mad no matter who was wielding the paddle.
To be honest about it the kid and I had been neglecting to visit my father as much as we did in the summer, sure, the building can be heated well enough but if we want to do anything we can do it at our house just as easily without the kidney busting trip up to the pond. The big attraction to that place for me anyhow is being able to go swimming and believe me, the water gets way too cold to do that once fall arrives. It was indeed time to visit Dad again.
And then again, we really didn't need Dad's tender touch on our bums any longer, we could take care of that ourselves.
We would still spank each other just about every day, sometimes going with a full fantasy, sometimes not and using the spanking as foreplay before some great action in bed as it were. Not that we ever restricted our actions to the bedroom, it was far from that!
Living together every day will lead to some friction between the partners no matter how much they care for each other and we made a very simple pact before we made the plunge and started living together, a spanking agreement if you will. Fortunately we rarely had to resort to this for we got along really well.
When we did resort to a spanking as a method to keep domestic peace the spanking was end all of the problem, it would never, ever be discussed again. Just like when I was a kid a spanking was punishment for the misdeed and that was that. It works well for us, anyhow odd as it may seem between two adults.
Two simple rules are involved with these spanking, first of all the person being spanked has to submit to it just like you did when you were a kid and secondly the person doing the spanking has to do it just like it was a father punishing a misbehaving boy. No playing around, it is time to make a bottom hurt.
We use the spanking horse for these sessions and we rarely use it otherwise. We also use a replica of that strap that used to be used in the reform school that Dad had made up to go with the horse. Here's an example of a time that I spanked the kid, don't read a lot into this for I have found myself in the same position on several occasions.
We had decided that what the kid had done was upsetting domestic tranquillity and he was due a spanking because of it, not much different than me acting out when I was young. (as if I don't do the same thing now!)
"Let's get it over with," I said.
"Fine," said the kid, "let's go." We walked upstairs to the 'playroom' for something more than playing this time.
I watched in silence as the kid got undressed and draped himself over the back of the horse and then strapped him down. We only do this when it is time for punishment and not when we are just playing with the horse. When he was strapped down I stepped back and got the strap from the closet where we stored our tools.
"Are you ready?" I asked.
"Yes," came the muffled answer, "get on with it."
"Okay then, a dozen strokes," I say, "just as we agreed." This is our normal allotment of spanks with this strap, it really does hurt quite a bit. I will administer six standing at his left side and then switch to the other side and give him six from that side.
We keep these swats on the buttocks and try to avoid hitting too far down for we do have to sit at our desks the next day and I normally lay the first stripe right in the middle of his bum. This is not fooling around and I'm hitting hard and trying to make it hurt a lot, that's our agreement. The kid will generally gasp after the first two stripes and then sob a bit for the rest of the first set of six. He will be crying after the second set of six, not howling like we tend to do when Dad was paddling our bottoms, but sort of quietly with the tears dripping on the top of the horse. As soon as the spanking is over I unstrap him from the horse and take him in my arms and hug him tightly, running my hand up and down his back and spanked fanny until he recovers.
Twelve hard swats with that strap will leave a vivid red swath of well spanked hide right in the center of a guy's buttocks and it will hurt pretty good for several hours afterwards. We wait for an hour after the spanking to kind of let the lesson sink in, just like my corner time used to do, and then the one that did it will take care of the area that he spanked and smooth cream all over the hot hide to help with the healing process. All is forgiven. That was an example but remember that my ass is just as likely to be the one smacked as the kid's. It has been, it will be in the future. It works for us.
That Friday after worked we got into the Jaguar and headed for the farm, picking up the traditional Chinese food on the way.
Dad met us at the door and invited us in. As I entered the house I could hear a steady sound going on somewhere, a 'thump' followed by a pause and then another 'thump.
"What's the noise, Dad?" I asked.
"I'm running the machine through another test cycle," said Dad, "I set it for five thousand strokes this time, its already done over twenty thousand without a hitch."
"Wow," I snickered, "I feel sorry for that guy!"
"Don't be silly," said Dad, "I made up a test dummy and it doesn't make anywhere near as much noise as you two do. Doesn't eat as much either."
All during supper the noises continued and finally stopped.
"Good," Dad said, "it's completed the latest cycle, let's go and see how things are holding up." The three of us went upstairs and into the room where Dad had installed his spanking machine.
The thing still looked like an exercise bench mating with a batting machine but this time instead of the top being bare I could see Dad's spanking dummy on top of it. The dummy was just a lower torso with truncated legs but the bottom was well designed and except for being made out of high density foam it looked like a typical boy butt, crack and all. About all that was missing was the nut sack hanging down, Dad didn't feel that was necessary because he wasn't planning on spanking that area.
While I examined the arm holding the wooden paddle, Dad insisted on using oak for the paddle for tradition's sake, he unstrapped the dummy from the bench leaving the top bare again. Last time he 'tested' this contraption in real life on me the paddle had broken off of the arm that was swinging it and I got whacked by just the arm itself quite a few times before Dad got the darn thing turned off. Quite a treat.
"Okay," Dad said, "I need a volunteer."
"The kid insists on being your guinea pig," I snickered, "we tossed a coin for it and I lost so he gets to go first."
Dad turned to the kid. "I need you to get undressed, then," he said, "I've designed this thing to be used with the subject in the nude, the straps hold better that way. Giving me a dirty look the kid slowly took his clothes off and got onto the top of the bench, laying his erection into the groove thoughtfully provided for the purpose.
Dad got him all strapped down to the machine, the straps were tough nylon with hook and loops fasteners and lined with something like wet suit material so they wouldn't slip. A strap went around each leg just above the knees, one broad strap went over the kid's back just over his butt and two more fastened his hands out in front of him to a bar that he could grab and hold onto. He was trussed up like the Thanksgiving turkey. And able to move just about as far.
"Okay then," said Dad, "first of all we give the machine the parameters of where it is supposed to work." He took an arm from beside the machine after pushing a button on a console that was sitting there and used it to trace the area of the kid's rear end that was going to be subjected to the spanking which with Dad included just about all of it, buttocks, hips and upper thighs. When he finished this tracing he pushed another button.
"The machine knows where to spank now," said Dad, "now we just need to decide on how many swats he should get."
"Do you have to adjust how hard it hits?" I asked.
"No," answered Dad, "this machine was made for punishment so it always spanks hard."
"Well, how many times do you smack me when you paddled my butt?" I asked, "that should work out pretty good."
"Heavens, I don't know!" said Dad, "I always used to spank you for a period of time, not number of spanks!" I could well remember being over his knees for ten minutes at a time but this was a test after all. Let's see now, a spank every two seconds or so for ten minutes...that was around 300 swats. That was a bit much for a test.
"How about fifty spanks," I said, "that should be enough for a test."
Dad looked a bit disappointed but set the number on the machine to fifty and then stepped away from it. He had in his hand a box on a cable with two buttons on it.
"When I push the black button the sequence starts," he said, "and continues until all fifty spanks have been administered. I do have this panic button that will stop the machine in case of an emergency."
Dad pushed the button and the machine launched into action. I watched as the arm moved around with the paddle pulled back and then suddenly the paddle flew forward and ended with a 'crack' square in the center of the kid's bare bottom. As the arm retracted and the mechanism moved around I saw the place that the paddle had smacked turning red and then another spank landed just below the first one.
"These motions may seem random to you," Dad said, "but the machine has stored in its memory the entire area of the places to be spanked and will insure that all those areas do get spanked. It should redden his entire hide before going back and smacking an area again."
Sure enough, the darn thing did just that! It would smack an area of the kid's behind and then move on to another one until his entire rump was red and then repeated the process until all fifty swats had been administered. It must have stung a bit for the kid yelped on occasion when the paddle smacked a tender spot on his bum. He sure had a well spanked bottom by the time the machine finished its cycle and retracted. A chime went off signaling that the spanking was finished. A voice sounded through the room 'Spanking Finished' it said.
Dad unstrapped the kid from the frame and helped him to his feet. "What did you think of it?" he inquired anxiously.
"It sure does give a spanking!" he said, vigorously rubbing his red cheeks, "that thing smacks hard!" Then he smirked and said, "I just know that my big, tough, brother is dying to try it out."
There was no getting around it, I was the next victim, er, test subject for Dad's wonderful new invention. I got undressed and lay down on the bench part, thankful for Dad's thought in putting that groove in the top of it. Pretty quick I was fastened down and felt the stylus tracing the contours of my butt. Dad was busily explaining to the kid how this machine could adjust for all sizes and shapes of behinds.
"The only thing I won't do is build in a power adjuster," he said, "that wouldn't be fair. If a boy is going to be spanked he should be spanked the same as any other boy."
"I think seeming as he's my big brother and much tougher than I am he most likely wants about double what I got," said the brat as they were discussing the number of swats I should get. So it was that the machine was set to 100 and started up.
The kid is right, that thing spanks hard! What made it even worse was all I could kick was my lower legs and really couldn't move my body much at all so had to lay there and take it as stroke after stroke seared my backside. The only sounds besides my begging and yelps and after a while sobs was the whirring sound of the motors controlling the position of the arm and the 'crack' it made as the paddle smacked my bare skin once again. One saving grace was because of how I was fastened down and couldn't kick my crack was saved from getting any spanking for all that helped. The entire outside of my backside burned enough to more than make up for that little detail.
Did Dad's machine work to administer a sound spanking? Yes indeed, it sure did! As a veteran of quite a few spankings over the years I can safely state that it does a great job. Every smack was given with the same amount of force and somehow Dad even designed it so the paddle hit flat all the time no matter where it landed to maximize the sting. It was capable of spanking my left hip as thoroughly as my right one, something that is difficult when you are over someone's knees for that hip is just too close to the paddler's body and I will never be strapped down over this thing again so long as I live!
"Dad," I said after I was unfastened and allowed to stand up, "that's one heck of a machine you came up with and I hate it!"
"What do you mean?" he asked, taken aback by my statement.
"It gives a very sound spanking," I said, "and every smack hurts as much if not more than the one before it but there is one very important thing lacking, it lacks the personal touch. When you used to spank me when I misbehaved as a kid it was you spanking me, in other words it was you teaching me a lesson about behavior, painful though it might be. I can see this machine being usable for judicial punishments but it would never replace a good old fashioned father/son butt warming session."
"It did work alright as far as it being a real spanking, though, didn't it?" asked Dad.
"Oh, yes," I replied, "in truth it gave as good a spanking as any that you have ever given me but somehow it just didn't seem right, it was a machine beating my ass, not you giving me a spanking. Like I said, though, install one of these things in the basement of Juvenile Hall and get the judges to use it liberally and I believe you'd see the youth crime rate drop dramatically, and every boy would get the same type of spanking as the next one, no favoritism at all. Someday they will finally figure out that a well blistered rump leads to good behavior faster than anything else in the world."
Well, Dad had made up a workable spanking machine, that's for sure, too bad it has no practical use in our society today. I think it would do youthful graffiti artists and petty criminals of all ages a great deal of good to be strapped down nude over this thing to get their behinds well tanned, too bad it will never happen. The slap on the wrist they give kids today in the courts is no where near as effective in curbing bad behavior as many and hard slaps on the bare backside. Dad's machine sure would do that in a fair and equitable manner, too bad it will never be put to use as it should be.
That session on Dad's spanking machine was the last real spanking that we got out at the farm. As rude as this might seem, the kid and I just didn't need his touch any more, our pact was working just fine for assuring domestic tranquillity though we had to use it rarely for the kid and I settled down like we had been together for years and years. Our work had not suffered in the least, as a matter of fact we had turned into one great team, what I couldn't think of the kid could and we were doing great on the work front as well as at home.
We had, following the tradition at the fishing camp, started our own 'Punishment Log' although we did it on computer instead of paper, with a disk backup of course. Looking over it you will find that the kid has been caught playing with himself in all kinds of locations and was suitably punished for this heinous crime. My name seems to appear in the log quite often as well though for different reasons.
As a completely silly but fun adjunct to the Punishment Log the person that just received the spanking has to sit down at the computer with his bum still stinging and write a Spanking Report. Here's one that the kid wrote one day--
Spanking Report--04/22/01
'The old meanie caught me playing with my willie in the backyard today, I was behind some bushes but he caught me anyway. I tried to tell him that I was taking a pee but he didn't believe me and told me that seeming as my pants were already down he might as well take advantage of the fact and he spanked my bummie really, really hard. I cried and cried but he just spanked me and spanked me until my bummie was all hot and very, very sore. It's not fair!'
That was pretty typical of the kid's spanking reports, most of the time he was a young teenager getting caught masturbating. He did have a childhood guilt thing about playing with himself and he always figured if it feels so good it must be wrong or bad for you and wanted to be punished when he got caught. Okay with me.
I'll admit that I also have a common fantasy that I use often as a reason to get my butt tanned, stealing something from a store. The big difference is I actually did steal something once when I has just graduated to Dad using the paddle on me, something totally worthless but something that I just had to have and when caught at it by Dad was taken back to the store where I had to return it and apologize to the store owner and seeming as it was after hours got my fanny warmed right then and there, over Dad's knees while he spanked me long and hard with his hand on my bare backside. It hurt like the dickens and I bawled and cried while the store owner watched but nothing compared to what happened once we got home.
As we got out of the car back home, me still sniffling from the heat inside of my pants, Dad marched me right out to the shed and snapped the light on.
"I didn't raise you to be a thief!" he roared, "I am going to make darn sure that you never even think about stealing anything again so take your clothes off, now!"
I was begging and telling Dad that I had learned my lesson but I still got undressed and quickly was looking at the floor of the woodshed again. The flames that blazed on the hide of my behind were never matched until I got the two paddlings in one day later on in life, the paddling was awful and hurt like crazy on my already tender butt. I never, ever, even thought about stealing anything again in my entire life!
So that became my major fantasy, a crime to be punished for. I had told the kid about this experience and we would plan things ahead of time so he knew what part he had to play. We would even replicate the entire thing with me first getting spanked with my pants and shorts down by hand and then got a follow up spanking with a light paddle that we made up.
We had a couple of paddles at home, one a perfect replica of the one that I had felt so many times on my bottom over the years and another one that was the same size but about half the weight. The second paddle was the one that we used for our play spankings, the original still had a purpose in our lives. The lighter paddle would sting like crazy and redden a backside well but the older paddle seemed to just sink into our hides more and the effects of the spanking seemed to last longer because of that fact.
That paddle was the big reason that we were no longer making the trek out to Dad's house when we needed to have our attitude adjusted and set us back on track.
"I think I need a tune-up," said the kid in a small voice one Friday night, "I need to clear my mind of everything and just think about one thing and one thing only for a while. Would you help me do that?"
We had talked this over before now but this would be the first time that one of us asked the other one to do what Dad had done for both of us. "Are you sure?" I asked, "We could take a ride to the farm tomorrow if you want to wait."
"No, that's alright," he answered, "I'm sure that you can do just as good a job of it as your father can and I'd rather have you do it."
"Okay, then," I said, "let's go upstairs." We didn't have a woodshed but the spare bedroom would work as well. While the kid got undressed I fetched the paddle from the playroom.
When I got back to the bedroom he had stripped naked and put the chair in the center of the floor and I sat down on it. He came over and lowered himself over my knees. I jiggled my legs around to get his bum in proper position.
I looked down at the kid's snowy white behind, the one that I had spanked so often in the last months and even made him cry on occasion but I had never given him a full blown, out and out butt blistering. I put the paddle on his back and ran my hand over his bottom.
"Are you certain that you want me to do this?" I asked, hoping that he'd change his mind. "If I start this spanking I'm not going to stop until I figure that you've been spanked enough, no matter how much you ask me to. You will be sore afterwards."
"That's what I need," he said in a muffled voice into the side of my leg, "spank me like your dad used to spank you when you were bad."
I picked up the paddle from off of his back and blistered his bottom. I didn't want to do this any more than I am sure that Dad wanted to spank me but I did it, long and hard while the kid cried and bawled over my knees. Usually during one of our spankings if the person getting started to sob a bit we would stop, but just like Dad this time I didn't and spanked him long after he started to cry. As my fanny had been many times in the past by the time I got done spanking the kid his was hot enough to fry eggs on.
I got the kid on his feet and put him into the corner of the room we had left vacant and left the room and went downstairs. Just like Dad used to do to me out in the woodshed. I felt horrible spanking him that hard, I wonder if Dad felt as bad after tanning my hide for me?
The kid came downstairs after an hour or so, still naked but with a soft willie, I supposed that he had jerked off just like I did after a spanking. He came over to me and sat on my lap and put his arms around me and kissed me.
"Thanks," he said, "I needed that."
We sat there for a long time, my naked lover sitting on my lap while I ran my hand up and down his back, from his shoulders to the top of his still hot behind. Funny how this whole thing started with me taking the kid out to visit Dad to get his first spanking of his life, I'm sorry to say that the way things look we won't need his services any longer. We most likely will visit a lot in the summer months for we do like to use the fishing camp and without a doubt we will cause some problems about getting in firewood or something like that and Dad will have to convince us that we need to work. I don't think that we will ever need his services when it comes to our need for an occasional good old fashioned paddling, though, we can deal with that ourselves.
As I sat there with my partner and lover on my lap, freshly spanked bottom warming the top of my legs, I mentally closed the door to the woodshed for the last time.