A phone call just informed David, the houseparent, that Dewayne had been fighting again at school.
Dewayne was 16. He was black, lean and well defined for his age. As with all African-Americans, his butt was more than ample but being light skinned, the effect of a spanking could be seen. Dewayne had been living in the group home for almost 3 years now. He was well behaved in the group home, and the spankings he gave helped to keep the others in line. He was known as a firm but fair disciplinarian and, if not for his constant fighting at school, Dewayne might never have experienced some of that same discipline for himself.
Dewayne was a tough kid, from a tough side of town. One might think that corporal punishment would be lost on someone like Dewayne, and one would be wrong. Dewayne needed to learn the hard way that as he got older, the consequences for his actions didn't go away, they just got worse. When Dewayne first arrived, David began spanking his bare butt by hand within the first week. It wasn't too long before a long, hard session with the hand needed to be followed up with a thin, leather dress belt. Next came the razor strop, and that lasted for quite some time. Most recently, David had resorted to using a small, oak, rowing paddle he had purchased from an outdoors store just for use on Dewayne. It, more than any other instrument, made Dewayne cry.
Dewayne arrived home from school on time. David immediately asked him into his office. Knowing what was coming, Dewayne mumbled, "_s_h_i_t_," and followed David inside.
"Dewayne," David began, "You know why I called you in, right?"
"Yes, sir," Dewayne answered.
"Okay," David said, "Get into position."
Wanting it to be over, Dewayne moved the piano bench to the center of the room. Unfastening his pants, he pushed them down to his ankles, and then followed with his underwear. His manhood was visible (and, it's true what they say, black is bigger). Dewayne lowered himself over the bench and, positioning himself just right, his lower back rested on the seat, his arms were outstretched in front and his legs extended back. His firmly rounded, hairless butt was positioned nicely on the edge of the bench. The position itself placed his butt where it could absorb the most shock while preventing the most movement.
David picked up the paddle and approached the boy from behind. Standing just to his left, David swung the paddle like he was swinging a bat and the paddle slammed into Dewayne's butt: SMACK!
Dewayne cried out, "Ahhh!"
Each swat was followed by a pause, allowing Dewayne's butt to rise again after being flattened so forcefully. Then, giving Dewayne time to relax his butt again, David would draw back and swing again.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Dewayne was visibly shaken, and he began to plead, "Please, sir, I'll stop fighting."
But David just drew back again, SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Dewayne's butt was reddened but, being naturally tanned, could endure much more. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Swat after swat landed and Dewayne's body was now trembling as he sobbed uncontrollably.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
"Okay," David said, "You're finished, Dewayne."
Dewayne lay there for a few more minutes before slowly standing up. Slowly, he bent over to raise his briefs and pants. Crying, he left the office vowing to himself he would never fight again, but he knew that resolve wouldn't even outlive the pain of the paddling he'd just received.