In the 1940-ties and early 1950-ties, in the small European town where I grew up as a boy, _s_e_x_ual education was not on the school curriculum. In most homes the subject of _s_e_x_ was strictly taboo! In those days one learned about the facts of life mostly from other kids in the street.
In my street lived a little girl with red hair. Her name was Lillybeth. She had a reputation of being very knowledgeable in _s_e_x_ual matters. She used to say: "Girls have a little sugar bowl and boys have a little spoon. When a boy puts his little spoon into the girls sugar bowl then a baby grows in the girl's tummy."
She was a genuine little Jezebel. She was fond of sweets. But coming from a very poor family she seldom got any. When one of the boys got some sweets she used to say: "Give me some of your sweets and I will show you my little sugar bowl." She often had success.
For a while I became her favourite boy. My mother often sent me with money to the shops to buy groceries or meat. As soon as Lillibeth saw me coming down the street with my shopping bag she was right away at my side, going with me to the shops, and on the way back home she seduced me by promising that I could touch her little sugar bowl, if I took a few cents from the change to buy us sweets. There was a small candy shop on the block where children used to buy bonbons, or a jelly or a lolly for one or two cents apiece.
Stupid little boy that I was, I succumbed to her seduction several times. I realized though, that what I was doing was very wrong. So one day I said to Lillybeth: "I won't steal money from my mother any more. If you want sweets why don't you take some money from your own mother?"
Of course that was the most stupid thing that I could have said, because Lillibeth cried out: "Oh, what a wicked boy you are! I will tell my mother." She did tell her mother, and that afternoon Lillybeth's mother paid a visit to my mother.
When I came home later that afternoon my mother asked me: "Have you been taking change from the shopping money to buy sweets for that girl Lillybeth?"
I realized that it was no use to lie about it so I said: "Yes Mam, I am very sorry."
My mother said: "Your father wants to see you in the workshop."
My father had a small car repair shop. He employed three apprentices who were 16, 18 and 20 years old. The eldest one, Bert, was my favourite.
I went to the workshop with lead in my shoes. As soon as I entered the workshop my father started yelling at me in a rage. "You stupid sod! Giving money away to that tart, that little whore! Money where your mother and I have to work so hard for."
I noticed lying on the workbench a piece of batten from the woodshed. I said: "I am very sorry Dad."
My Dad shouted to me: "I will make sure that you are sorry. You Idiot! Drop your pants and get over that bench."
I dropped my shorts. "Underpants too!" Dad hollered.
I saw the apprentices looking at my genitals with interest. The two younger apprentices had a smile on their face, but Bert looked very sad.
Dad took the batten in his right hand and with his left hand pushed me over the workbench, and he laid into me with full force, all the while shouting and hollering insults at me, and at the address of that little tart, Lillybeth.
The WHACKS kept coming down upon my buttocks in quick succession. The pain made me jump up and down. I fought like a wildcat to get away from under my fathers hand. My father could not keep me in place. He said to the apprentices: "Keep him down!"
The two young apprentices jumped me, grabbed me, and bent me over the workbench while they twisted my arms on my back in a vicelike grip.
My father continued for a long time to paddle my bottom with the batten at full force while I squealed like a pig. The pain was unimaginable. I never have been beaten so severely before, or ever since. At a certain moment I heard Bert say: "Sir, he is bleeding."
My father said: "Good, so he should!" But shortly after that Dad stopped. The apprentices let go off me, but I could not get up from the workbench. I just lay there crying and blubbering till Bert put me gently down on my feet and helped me putting on my shorts.
My father said to me: "Get out of my sight. I don't want to see you around tonight. Go to bed immediately, without supper."
Later that evening, while I was lying in bed on my belly, there was a soft knock at my bedroom door. Bert came in with a glass of warm milk and some crackers with cheese and biscuits. He said to me: "Let me see your bottom." He looked and said: "Poor baby, you have suffered a lot. I brought some cream for your bottom." He very gently massaged the cream all over my sore bottom, but even the gentlest touch did hurt.
He said to me: "I have often been spanked as a young lad, and I know to make the pain go away. Let me." He started massaging the cream on my balls and my penis, and after a short while a miracle seemed to happen. I had a mighty orgasm, which made the muscles of my buttocks contract, causing an intense feeling of pain mixed with pleasure. After that I fell into a deep relaxing sleep.
Of course my bottom was still very sore for more than a week. Bert later never mentioned what had happened between us, and he never made any further _s_e_x_ual advances to me. He now is a very happily married family man with children of his own.
I never got another spanking from my Dad. I never gave him another reason to spank me again. However I had experienced what an enormous _s_e_x_ual stimulant a spanking can be. In later years I often needed to participate in consensual male/male spanking to be able to achieve _s_e_x_ual satisfaction at all.
That treacherous little bitch Lillybeth might be the reason that all my life I have never been able to trust women again. The nicer women are to me the more I am expecting some kind of serious trouble.
This is a true story.