I started to smoke cigarettes when I was around ten years old and a few years after that Dad and I had a sort of special relationship that just grew stronger over the years. Maybe to be more accurate it was Dad's hand and my backside that developed this close bond, they sure were in contact with each other often enough.
I was an average kid growing up, not terribly bad and certainly no angel and Dad was as good a father as you could find, fair in his dealings with me and my brothers and sisters, the upside being rewards and treats were forthcoming for being good, the downside was spankings were just as rapidly delivered for misbehavior. Very high on his list of misbehavior on the part of a boy was underage smoking, what you did after you were eighteen and out of high school was your business, until that time if you got caught puffing away pretty soon there would be smoke coming from both ends of you.
Dad is a big guy, about six foot four inches tall and went maybe 220 pounds and believe me, not a heck of a lot of that was fat. He had been a farmer all his life and worked hard and once we kids got big enough we were expected to help out as much as we could with the cows and in the fields, on the plus side we did get allowances according to how much work we did with bonuses for extra work.
He was rather set in his ways and quite traditional about how he went about doing some things and spanking a boy was one of them. He always used the old fashioned over the knees position when it came to corporal punishment for us boys, my mom took care of any disciplinary needs of the girls. Being as big a man as he is he could make even my much older brother look like a boy when he was over his knees having an error in judgment explained to him in the time honored way.
"It's you that I intend to punish, not your clothing," he said more than once "it's you that I'm upset with, not your pants."
Accordingly the very first thing you did when it was time for some father son bonding time was to pull your pants and underwear down to your ankles at the very least, during the summer when we all ran around in cutoff jeans, no shirt and no shoes, the shorts tended to come right off along with our underpants, if we happened to be wearing any. We used to go swimming in those shorts and underpants just made an extra layer of clothes to dry so often we left them off. Made it handy for Dad, anyway.
Both of my parents smoked ciggies and my older brother did sneak them when he could. They say a boy can learn by seeing an example but somehow that didn't work in my case.
My brother was about a month short of both graduating from high school and turning that magical age of eighteen and he was taking care of milking the cows that night and me and my younger brother were out there helping him. The three milking machines were all on cows and it would take about ten-fifteen minutes for them to be ready to be changed so my brother decided a break was due and lit up a cigarette.
"You brats keep your mouth shut or I'll get you," he warned me and my brother, as if we'd inform anyhow, kids need to stick together after all. Not only that but he'd sneak me a smoke on occasion.
Seeming as the evening chores were being taken care of, my parents were going out to a livestock auction about an hour's drive away and would be gone for most of the evening. Everything should have been cool and I was figuring on how I could cadge a smoke out of my brother, maybe I'd just steal one from his pack when he wasn't looking, when Dad came into the barn to tell big brother something.
My brother had just taken a good puff and smoke was coming out of his nose and the ciggie was in his hand when Dad walked in. He was caught red handed!
Being caught red handed doing something you shouldn't be doing meant just one thing in my family, pretty darn quick your behind would match your hands and this time was no exception.
Moving amazingly fast for a man his size my dad had big brother by the arm and snatched the smoke from his hand and ground it out under foot and led my protesting brother down to the back of the barn where some hay bales were piled to feed the cows after they were milked. Dad spied a little hunk of four inch board left over from a mending project of some sort and grabbed that in passing, he was an opportunist when it came to such things though he rarely planned them.
"Dad, please!" begged my big brother, "I'm almost eighteen for heaven's sakes!"
"Almost is the active word here," Dad growled and holding my brother with one big hand he got his fly opened and jeans and underwear dragged down in one motion, sat down on the stacked hay, pulling my brother across his knees at the same time.
Oh, the spanking my brother got! Dad licked my brother's bottom with that little piece of board for a long, long time while he howled and cried just like I do when I get spanked. My weenie was rock hard inside of my pants and I had a great desire to either wet my pants or cum off in them, being twelve at the time I could do either. I always got a boner when it came to spankings whether it was me getting one or one of my brothers, made no difference. I guess it's a family trait for both of my brothers did as well, I'd seen both spanked often enough for Dad wasn't fussy if another guy was around when he was tanning someone's hide for them.
Spanking time is very subjective, if you are getting one it lasts forever and this particular one lasted about five minutes but there were a whole lot of swats that landed in that time period and my brother's bum was the color of a brick, it having long passed tomato stage. Dad set him up on his feet where my brother stood with his pants and shorts down near his shoes, still crying and furiously rubbing his flaming butt with both hands. I looked at my brother standing there and felt a twinge of jealousy, his weenie is so much bigger than mine especially when it was standing hard and stiff and he had lots and lots of hair down below where I had just a trace on my belly above my privates. To make it worse, I'm a real blond so what hair I have barely showed up at all.
Dad stood up and told my brother what he had come into the barn to tell him and then walked out. He put that little piece of board up on top of one of the beams that ran across the barn, mentioning it might come in handy some time. I'd make darn sure that it disappeared pretty quickly. If he couldn't find it, he couldn't use it and after seeing my brother getting his bare fanny paddled with that thing I didn't really want to have the same experience any time soon.
"I gotta take a leak," mumbled my brother, pulling his pants up so he could walk. He went out the small back door of the barn, his fanny glowing like a stop sign.
Yeah, take a leak all right! We boys commonly just peed in the gutters behind the cows, I mean if there are gallons of cow pee there a little boy pee will make no difference. I sneaked over to the door which had big cracks in it and saw my brother pumping his right arm with his hand down near his weenie, his pants once more near his knees, fire engine red bottom glowing in the setting sun. Maybe he'd pee once he was done whacking off but that is what he was doing right now! I can't say that I blame him, I do the same thing since I learned how but it would have been fun to see the stuff spurting out of that big weenie of his. He's not shy about showing it to my brother and me when he takes a leak but is a bit shy when it comes to jerking off.
You would have thought that I would have learned something from seeing my tough big brother being turned into a crying little kid when Dad spanked him for smoking but somehow the lesson didn't take with me. Or my little brother either, for that matter, he smoked when he could.
I had led a charmed life when it came to sneaking smokes over the last two years, I only had two or three a day and had a special spot where I hid the pack I stole from my parents and the matches to get the things lit. I would only take the pack out of hiding and get one out and light it and hide everything away before settling down to pollute my lungs for a while.
I don't know if Dad spotted the smoke coming out of the old ice house or what, it was the middle of the summer and all was dry and he would of course investigate any smoke coming from a building even if it was unused. Anyway suddenly a large shadow fell across the doorway of the building, Dad had caught me!
"What exactly do you think you are doing?" he said as he loomed enormous above where I was sitting on the floor. I had ground the smoke out on the floor when I saw him, maybe he wouldn't see it! Yeah, right!
"Nothing, Dad," I said, "just hanging out in here."
Dad reached a big hand down and grabbed my arm and lifted me to my feet. The crushed Newport was laying there on the dirt floor in plain sight.
"Well," he said, dragging me over to an old crate that we used as a seat sometimes, "I'll give you something to keep you occupied!"
His big hand went down and undid the button on my fly and he tugged the fly so the zipper went down, he was really good at doing that! I only had those cutoffs on and they fell to the floor when Dad yanked down on the seat and he had me step out of them.
He sat down on that crate and I heard it creak under his weight and it creaked some more when he pulled me down over his lap, naked as the day I was born, so my stiffie was just inside of his right thigh where his legs were spread, my nuts pressing hard against his pants leg.
"You will not smoke until you are eighteen!" he said, punctuating every syllable of every word with a flaming swat of his big right hand on my upturned bottom. His hand was big, my bottom small, and every swat covered both cheeks.
He may have had more to say during that spanking, I don't know, I was howling too loudly to possibly hear anything that he said. It was a hard spanking that left my fanny just blazing with pain, Dad didn't believe in halfway measures, if a boy needed a spanking he got just that, hard and long lasting. My tears were gushing out of my eyes and landing on the dusty dirt floor of the old ice house.
When Dad had my entire fanny, buttocks, hips and upper thighs, blazing hot and flaming with agonizing pain, he put me on my feet. When Dad spanked a boy anything that could possibly be considered a boy bottom was a fair target and got spanked for sure.
"When I catch you at this game again you can be darn sure that you are going to be spanked again," he said, towering above me. "I might not be able to stop you from smoking but every time I catch you at it you will be able to light your next smoke from the skin of your behind!"
He left the icehouse and I stood there sobbing and rubbing my sore fanny for quite a while and then did what any healthy young boy would do that happened to still have a boner, I masturbated and shot my load on the dusty floor of the building.
Dad kept the promise he made me on that day, every time he caught me smoking I would find myself once more naked over his knees while he spanked my bare bum for me. Being a farmer he was always around the place and I guess that now that he knew I had the smoking habit he searched me out 'cause I sure did get caught a lot! It was a rare week that went by that I didn't have a flaming backside at least once.
Most of the time I had company at these father son sessions for my little brother liked tobacco as well and we used to sneak off together to have a puff or two. About the only difference it made was there were two naked, red bottomed, boys bawling instead of one, Dad was perfectly able to administer one spanking after another. It didn't even make a bit of difference who got the first spanking, someone Dad's strength never seemed to wane just because he had exercised his hand on one bottom already.
It got to the point that when we would see Dad coming we'd just snuff out the smokes and take off our shorts and wait for him to get to where we happened to be, saved time that way. Sometimes he'd search for our stash but never found it and we never told him where the stuff was hidden even if we got spanked some more when we didn't.
"THEY'RE ALL GONE, DAD!" I'd howl as his big hand descended on my sore fanny some more, "WE SMOKED THEM ALL UP!"
"I'm sure," he'd say and land another twenty, thirty flaming swats on my bare rump. Even my little brother never told him were we hid them, not even when he got his bum smacked some more.
Boys that get spanked together wank together and my little brother and I saw each other shoots lots of goo that summer. Not that we didn't anyway, we shared a bedroom and playing with yourself was an every night game we'd play. It's funny, though, whacking off in bed was never as intense as when we did it after getting our hides tanned hot and sore. Still nice but not the same somehow.
All these spankings that Dad gave us were with his strong, hard, hand except for one fine day. I guess it was a sort of special occasion.
We had gotten caught smoking right after the morning's chores were done and both me and my little brother were soundly spanked right out in the barn. There was a little advantage to being spanked out there for before we'd get dressed we'd turn the cold water from the hose in the milkroom on each other's sore behinds, that helped to put out the flames though it used to freeze our nuts so much that they'd tighten up so much that they hurt.
The day came off rainy, one of those summer rains that farmers normally like to see, a slow, drenching rain that was great for the gardens. We couldn't do anything outside so after Mom and Dad left to go shopping for food we went upstairs into a room that was our playroom, all our games and stuff where in there and we were left pretty much alone while playing in there.
Me and my brother lit up and were happily puffing away, letting the smoke trail out a partially open window. All of a sudden the door to the playroom opened wide and both Mom and Dad were standing in it! Mom had forgotten her coupons and they came back so she could get them and both saw the smoke coming from the window, why we didn't hear the car, I don't know.
"You know, I'm getting a little tired of this," Dad said, "let's see if I can give you two something to think about for a while."
There is lots of junk up in that room and one thing that we had was a Ping Pong table. We had broken the paddles a lot time ago and my fairly inventive older brother had made a couple of new ones out of the bottom of the drawer of an old bureau, he had cut them out in school on the bandsaw and did a great job on them, they were made of oak and he even glued sandpaper on one side of them. A bit heavy, maybe, but they worked. Dad spotted them sitting on a shelf and picked one up.
"This will do just fine," he said, "boy's you know the drill by now."
"Dad, please," I begged, "not in front of Mom!"
"She's seen everything that you own," Dad said, "and just because it's gotten a bit bigger don't make it different, pants off now!" Mom leaned against the frame of the door while Dad sat on one of the chairs we had up there.
Blushing to the roots of my hair, I doffed my shorts and walked over to where Dad was sitting, seeing my brother taking his pants off while I went. I was grateful that only Dad could see my woody though Mom could see my bare bottom.
The way Dad was sitting I would be in profile to Mom with my front looking at her so I swiftly lay down over Dad's knees to hide my hard weenie from her view.
"Maybe this will settle you for a while," Dad grunted as he brought the Ping Pong paddle blazing down on my upturned rear end.
I didn't cry from that spanking, not at all. Sure, there were tears spurting from my eyes but I didn't cry. Instead, when I felt the furious sting and burn of that wooden paddle I howled, screamed and wailed at the top of my lungs it hurt so much. Dad's big hand can make a boy's bottom really sore but that felt like a pat on the bum compared to the unbelievable flames that paddle ignited on my poor tail. Every swat of that paddle either lit a fresh bonfire on my tail or fanned one already burning to greater heat and intensity and Dad gave me lots of swats for sure.
When he got through spanking me he put me on my feet and moved me away from him to the left with a hand on my arm to clear the way for my brother. All I could do was stand there with a blistered ass cheek held lightly in each hand, bouncing from foot to foot and stamping my feet furiously trying to put out the flames burning behind me, still leaking tears and snot down my face. In back of me I could hear the 'crack' of the paddle on my brother's bare bottom and shortly his answering wails of pain. There sure seemed to be a whole lot of both sounds though the wails grew greatly in volume as the spanking progressed.
Suddenly I realized that the one spot on my body I didn't want Mom to see had been wagging up and down in front of her for quite some time now. Still hard, it was bouncing all around while I was dancing and stamping my feet trying to douse the flames burning on my fanny. Greatly embarrassed, I turned my back to her, she could now see my fiery red and blistered behind but that was better than the alternative.
In the corner of my tear filled eye I could see Dad putting my brother on his feet and he did much the same as me, held onto his fiery fanny while he danced and howled his anguish to the world. Dad got up and went over to the door and took Mom's hand and left the room. I turned around and looked at my brother, his face was bright red and covered in tears and snot and his weenie was still stiff and bouncing up and down like mine was.
I made my way to the window and looked out and saw my parents get into the car and drive off. I went over and put my arms around my brother and we just held each other and cried for a while. It took him longer to stop crying because he had the more recent spanking but sooner or later he did stop.
"I got so scared when I saw how much that thing was hurting your bottom that I started to leak," my brother told me. "I think that I might have leaked on Dad when he was spanking me."
"Serves him right!" I declared, "if he wants to spank you that hard he deserves to get wet on."
"My bummie has never, ever, hurt this much," he sobbed, "it felt like he was ripping all the skin right off of it!"
"Yeah, it was pretty awful," I said as I went over to where we had our smokes hidden, got two out and lit them and gave one to my brother. As we stood there naked with our behinds still burning merrily away behind us, we puffed on our cigarettes while our spare hands took care of another pressing need. As I shot an enormous load all over the place, white spots spattering the floor, gasping with the intensity of the orgasm, I thought 'Maybe that spanking wasn't as bad as I thought it was.'
Dad proved me wrong on that count about a week later, it was as bad as I thought it was, at least for as long as it was going on, anyway. The paddle had become part of our lives now, Dad had even put one out in the barn with strict orders for us not to touch it.
"If that paddle isn't there when I want it," he said, "I will go to the house and fetch the other one and when I get back out here you better plan on not doing anything for quite some time. You will be very busy looking at the floor while I spank the butt right off of you!"
He never quite managed that though I don't think it was from lack of trying, maybe he wanted to make sure that he still had something to spank in the future when he needed to. The skin of a boy's bottom must regenerate really fast for there always seemed to be plenty back there for the paddle to sting and burn even though I think Dad must have worn many layers from me over the years.
We didn't always get our bare bums smacked with the paddle when we got spanked, like I said Dad was an opportunist when it came to behind tools and used what came to hand when a spanking was needed. He never seemed to forget that paddle up on top of the beam in the barn, though, and if we happened to be in the house when some bottom warming was needed we were taken up to the playroom, even if it was just one of us, for some prolonged meeting of wood and skin.
Dad was by no means adverse to using his hand if a tool of some sort wasn't available and when it was his big right hand smacking a bare boy bum he seemed to be trying to drive our buttholes out of our belly buttons he slapped so hard. Those spankings seemed to last forever as well, with his hand coming down on our tails for a long, long, time.
Though I admit that most of the spankings that I got, as well as the majority of the ones my younger brother received were for smoking, of course, not all of them were due to that habit. Dad still was a firm believer in the application of smacks to a bottom in order to punish and teach a lesson. He had the idea that was the reason a boy had a bottom, it was custom made by nature just for the purpose of spanking.
One fine day I got to feel what a piece of well tanned and limber leather feels like when applied vigorously to a guy's backside. I was helping Dad cut up this big old tree that had fallen down in a storm and after lumping it up with the chainsaw we were cutting it into stove lengths using a circular saw that was driven off of the power take off of the tractor. The attachment between tractor and saw was this wide leather belt, maybe four inches wide or so.
At first the job was fun, seeing that saw on the tractor cutting up the branches was pretty neat but Dad wouldn't let me do any of the cutting, my job was hauling the branches to him to cut up. It got pretty boring after a while and I started to screw off and Dad spoke to me about three times to get going. The fourth time he didn't holler, he turned off the saw and idled down the tractor and headed for me.
He got me by the arm and started for part of the trunk of the tree to sit down to minister to my needs and then made a detour to the tool box underneath the saw. Inside the toolbox was this old piece of the belt that drove the saw and Dad snaked it out and carried it with him over to the log.
It was Fall so I was wearing jeans and shoes and all but it didn't take long for Dad to have my jeans and underwear at my ankles and over his knees I went, sunny side up. The piece of broken belt was maybe three feet long but Dad choked up on it and used about half of it to whip my naked tail. It hurt as much as the paddle but had the added attraction of being able to wrap around a boy's ass cheek and really bite in with a horrible sting. I got lots of licks with that thing anywhere on my tail but the worst thing was I had to pull my pants and shorts back up over my fiery behind and continue working, it was almost three hours before I got the blessed relief of being able to jerk off. You use blankets on the bed to keep warm and my jeans served the same purpose and kept my fanny toasty and hot for quite some time.
But you know, when I was wanking after having my hide well tanned somehow that spanking that I just got didn't seem to hurt all that much. Until the next time when I learned it did indeed hurt a whole lot! Maybe if I stopped jerking off after I got spanked...
Nah. Won't happen. Some things just go together.