[Acknowledgement is owed to the artist Franco and his drawing of the "Spankinator" for part of this story; I hope he doesn't mind my borrowing the idea. Also, please note new email address. Reader responses are welcome, as always. -JK]
The new driving laws are strict, and man, they mean business. I found out the hard way, when as a result of my DUI I had to spend a day in the Penalty Stockade.
I couldn't complain, because I had voted for its implementation myself. A highly popular institution run in tandem by the State Prison and the Sheriff's Department, the Correctional Institute for Men was a large exhibition hall set up at the County Jail, with plenty of seating for spectators; because this was the place where Mr. John Q. Public was invited to watch, enjoy, and sometimes assist in the administration of inmate punishments.
But I use the word 'inmate' with caution, because it was precisely in the avoidance of creating new inmates that one of the Stockade's chief virtues lay. A petty offender with a family, for example, given the choice of a day in the Stockade instead of incarceration, had the option of getting his sentence over and done with quickly; thus relieving the system and, hopefully, returning him to society a better citizen. It was quick and efficient. It was no fun, that's for sure, but it did offer the convict a choice and a chance to show some courage by stepping up to take his medicine.
If you take the Stockade after you get a conviction, nothing happens at first. You just go home--work, go to school, whatever. What you do get is an appointment for a physical with a state physician. The results go to the Department of Corrections, and with a clean bill of health, you get the notification letter stamped "Competent for Sentence," and a date to report to the CIM.
I was there with about fifty other men, ages nineteen to fifty. They were in for various offenses: petty theft, tax delinquency, disorderly conduct. My cousin Jake had requested to serve the same day as me, as we were both caught on the same DUI. Jake was in a good mood, considering. He flies helicopters in the Marines, and he is a big muscular dude. I think he wanted see if he could take what they were dishing out.
Next thing, we stripped; underwear too, and lined up while the guards laughed at us and whistled. While our stuff was stowed in some lockers, they got riding crops and started using them! They soon had us herded into a narrow, wood panelled corridor with a low ceiling. We stepped pretty lively! "Hustle up, bad boys!" one officer said, and gave Jake a hard smack where he sits down. Everybody laughed at Jake's expression. "I said step lively!" barked the guard. "Yes sir!" Jake replied, and hopped up behind me quick. "_s_h_i_t_!" he said, rubbing his butt.
They packed us tight for discomfort and maximum embarrassment. That wasn't too difficult, with a group of grown men in their birthday suits! We had to line right up, dicks to fannies, and stand there. Then slam went the doors, and on went all the heat lamps in that low wood-panelled ceiling. It got hot very fast, like a sauna. There we were, all in the nude, very awkward and embarrassing. Then, with a crackle, a loudspeaker in the ceiling switched on.
"Welcome to the Penalty Stockade!" it bellowed.
"Otherwise known as the SCHOOL OF HARD SWATS!"
We began to sweat, as the close atmosphere thickened with the smell of bodies and male apprehension--just imagine fifty naked guys lined up in a corridor lined with switches, whips, and paddles!
"Our instructors are waiting," it said, "Todays lesson: a pants-down seminar entitled "My Stupidity! Classes are now in session!"
There was some nervous laughter in response to this; I could feel the dudes shifting uncomfortably, a moist and hairy mass of torsoes, butts and penisses.
"I hope you are prepared to pay a penalty the old-fashioned way, gentlemen! Here in the Stockade, we believe in the BOARD!"
The man behind me audilby gulped.
"This institution employs corporal punishment! We find it's the best method of behavior modification, addressing both body and mind with painful swats and severe public embarrassment! Yes you heard right, gentlemen: make no mistake:
YOU ARE HERE TO RECEIVE A PUBLIC SPANKING!"
Somehow the reality of this hadn't quite sunk in before.
"The new paddles are in today, gentlemen!" he announced, "I can assure you they make an ADMIRABLE impression!"
A roar of hearty laughter followed in the crackly speaker. They let us wait for a few moments. The apprehensive silence weighed a ton. I was starting to get a sinking feeling in my gut.
"_s_h_i_t_." A comment came from behind.
"Guess we're in for it, fellas," another guy said.
"Step forward!" crackled the speaker.
We moved forward now through an opening at the end of the passage and rounded a corner; here was another passage like the first, but with an iron door at the end, and, as we soon saw, a small recessed alcove in the right-hand wall.
Our jaws dropped in disbelief. What we saw there was a contraption that was the stuff of myth and schoolboy legend. It just couldn't be what it looked like it was, and yet--there was no denying it-- what was standing there sure as hell looked like a spanking machine!
In the little walled alcove it stood beneath a sign that said "The SPANKINATOR." It was about three and a half feet high and two and a half long. The top was about a foot and a half wide, domed and convex, with straps attached to it. It was open at the ends, and you could see through underneath. At the base were cables leading to a control panel at the wall with switches, dials and meters; and supported on posts projected from the lower part of the end, were two hydraulic arms--with paddles.
A chart on the wall showed the suggested implementation for correctional intstitutions. A prisoner was first led into a chamber with the spanking machine, where several rows of observers were seated. The prisoner is first reminded of his crime; then he is stripped for the penalty. As he mounts, straddling the apparatus, his thighs are spread by the curvature of the "saddle" as he leans forward to be fastened down by a strap around his waist, to secure him on the device.
The spanking machine was designed for males; for there was an opening in the saddle area for the prisoner's anatomy. When he gets on board, his goodies go down a hole lined with lubricated rubber, out of harm's way. His wrists are secured to the sides, and then, the technician adjusts the paddles!
Just then two guards stepped in from a side door and the loudspeaker crackled on.
"Welcome to the Bad Boy Spanking Machine!" it said. "Our demonstration is about to begin. We'll need a volunteer to help illustrate the workings of this ingenious and labor-saving device!"
Stone silence, with jaws dropped-our worst fears confirmed!
"Someone's going for a ride!" one of the guards said.
There was a lot of awkward shuffling and shifting in that line, let me tell you, and furious examinations of the floor! Nobody wanted to get on the Spankinator!
"How about you, sir!" said the guards as they grabbed a prisoner out of line. He was a tall gent named Taggart, in his late fifties with a white mustache and a lanky build, gray at the temples, but bald on top. He went pink as they pulled him out of line. Mr. Taggart was in good shape for his age, the type that has a lot of body hair, graying and curling white on his chest and shoulder blades, but also down his belly to his woolly graying bush. He looked mortified as they marched him to the spanking machine!
"Come on, Pops!" they said.
"Wait! this is ridiculous--" he boomed.
"Looks like it's Dad's turn!" Jake said, already preparing to enjoy the man's misfortune. One thing the guy had going for him--he was already naked!
As the man mounted the saddle, he got spread, and the lubricated aperture received him. His privates now hung visibly down through the opening, they cinched him forward by his waist and wrists to the machine, raising his seat. The technician adjusted the paddles, and it sounded like the subject was going to cry; his wide member poking down straight and stiff. The guard put the duration selector on 3 minutes and set the penalty dial to "moderately severe." Then he got seated at the controls.
Dad was going to get a spanking.
"Whrrrrrrrrr" went the Spankinator as the technician switched it to Punishment Mode. Now slowly the front end of the saddle dipped and the rear elevated as the left paddle retracted up to a high angle.
We all chuckled as the round, perforated paddle gave him a sharp, loud swat. The large man yelled in pain and surprise. WHACK! the right paddle followed suit, after about a second and a half. WHACK! WHACK!! Back and forth, back and forth they went, stamping a sizzle on his behind. What a sight! Taggart wore a look of shock and horror as the paddles swatted him, WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!! They were hinged for proper impact on the seat of learning! We gathered around to enjoy the spectacle, and offer comments. That's the stuff!" said one. "Teach him a lesson!" called another. WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!! "Ol' Dad" was humpin' up and down on the saddle, trying to move outta the way, but all he did was offer new spots for the mechanical Board of Education! His hairy buns were fiery red! WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!! Ho ho ho, I bet it stung! He craned his neck around to look behind him on the spanking machine, tears and perspiration flying from his bald head! SWAT! SWAT! SWAT! went the swift, mechanical paddles as Taggart got a hard, bare bottom spanking!! His thick dick was big and long and stiff! He better watch that up and down stuff, or he was gonna put on a show he didn't intend! Bamm! Bamm! Bamm! went the Boards! The ol' dude was starting to cry! But after a last pair of swats, the spankers retracted and the saddle part returned to straight horizontal as the descending "Whrrrrrrrr" said it had switched out of Penalty Mode.
The straps were removed, and as the tearful man was allowed to extricate himself from the spanking machine, the technician took him firmly in hand. Led to the right, the graying gentleman was made to stand in the corner! To conclude his punishment, Mr. Taggart had to face the wall naked with his hands on his head while the technician scolded and berated him, and tearfully contemplate his disgrace with his paddled butt and his big erection poking the wall! My cousin thought he ought to have to wear a dunce cap too!
We enjoyed a good laugh at his expense; but viewing his shame after the disgrace of his spanking, we got somber and realized for the first time what we'd gotten ourselves in for. Maybe this wasn't such a joke after all! I think we were all a lot more contrite as they marched us to the iron door leading to the main exhibition hall. Since we were naked as a bunch of jays, we were mighty glad to hear we were gonna get clothes. But then they issued us those ridiculous convict uniforms with the stripes, and underpants with a target on the butt! Troopers at the door made us get into them fast, then shoved us through.
Crowds of spectators were waiting for us there, to give us a warm reception. The guards started dividing us in to "classes" of ten. While they did this, we talked amongst ourselves to take our minds off what was coming. Me and Jake were in the same class, along with Steve, a salesman arrested for soliciting Prostitution, and the older man, Vince, who was about to discover the cost of petty tax evasion. Along with those guys, there was a young nineteen year-old named Matt, who had been disrespectful to a police officer, and a couple of brothers who were wrestlers at the college and had been in a bar brawl with a sheriff's deputy, though they hadn't realized he was one at the time. Shy, slender Matt with his sideburns and goatee hadn't really intended disrespect, he said. He was just trying to impress his friends. "Guess you'll know better next time," said Dave, one of the squat, square-built wrestlers, as he mimed whacking a paddle over his palm.
"Yeah, just like at the Pi Chi House," Dan grinned, a little taller than his brother, but not as broad in the shoulders. Both men had a fine growth of chest-hair for their ages, wandering down over their bellies, though not so deep and woolly as Steve and Vince, the two champs in this department. "During Hell Week the new guys get invited to a Birthday-suit Party," he grinned, "We lock the doors and then, heh heh heh, out come the paddles!" He and his brother grinned as they remembered the fun of hazing.
Of the other three guys, one was a big Swede named Carl. He hadn't actually committed any crime, but was there in place of a buddy who had skipped out to avoid his sentence. This was perfectly legal on Carl's part and would get his friend off the hook, but with the understanding that the punishment would be meted out in full. The other two gentlemen were actual prison inmates. Skip and Wayne were their names, and they were burglars.
We shook hands and wished each other luck.
A State Trooper with a whip started yelling at us.
"Welcome to the Doghouse, Dumb_s_h_i_t_s!" he said. "We've got a program of painful humiliations and embarrassments for you today that you'll find highly memorable!"
Bam! Bam! Bam! He gave three of us a hard lick across the backs of our legs.
"Let's go, ballerinas! Hands on your heads! Straight ahead to the Paddling Party!!"
Crowds of spectators gawked as they marched us down the Midway. Grassy knolls and flower beds, neatly landscaped on either side, surrounded the contraptions, scaffolds and devices which today would serve our betterment. Bursts of applause and approving laughter erupted here and there, mixed with the ringing impact of swats and howls of surprise. Visitors were free to view the spectacles at will, as at a carnival, and they were all around now as we were marched out in line.
Suddenly spotlights were on us, and a loud jeering voice that filled the exhibition hall started to taunt.
"Attention citizens: Here come the dunces!" People pointed at us and laughed. "They got too big for their britches!" it bellowed, "and now they're gonna get a licking!!"
I must have been turning red as a beet, being singled out like this!
"Time to award the scofflaws their penalty! Officers are waiting! Pull your pants down and bend over!!"
Jake looked horrified. He obviously wasn't prepared for this kind of public humiliation. But that's just what the Punishment Stockade is for. We were gonna get plenty of it, and there wasn't a _d_a_m_n_ thing we could do about it!
"Report to the Principal's Office, bad boys! You've each got a date with the paddle!!"
The spectators were eating this up and started making jokes at our expense. Boys made fun of us and told us we were in trouble. One man was pointing us out to his young son, whose eyes were wide with astonishment. "See those men, Billy?" he said with relish, "They broke the law, and now they're not going to be able to sit DOWN for a week!"
"Come on, bad boys!" jeered the voice, "Think it's gonna hurt?? You're _d_a_m_n_ right!!"
That got a big laughs from the men watching. "Ha ha ha, that's right!" yelled one, "Pull their britches down for them!"
"Hustle up now gentlemen and don't delay--there's a penalty for stragglers!" We heard chuckling in the background.
"Better step lively!" the voice said, "as a special offer for convicts today, the first five to sign up for a spanking will be exempted from the ducking-stool!!"
"Whooooooo!!!" went the spectators.
"The --ducking-stool!?" I thought--
But before I could pursue this any further we came on a most unusual sight. A wooden stage with steps leading up one side was set up on the left, with rows of spectators seated in front. There were a couple of dubious contraptions and several officers up there, and a large banner over the top said "Welcome Convicts!"
"Here come the contestants!" said a man at the microphone. Then our trooper used his whip; he hustled the ten of us up the steps real fast, where we lined up on the platform as the people on the benches applauded. Whap! _d_a_m_n_ that thing hurt!
"Ladies and gentlemen," said the host, "welcome to one of our most popular attractions--the Stupidest Criminal Contest!" This was greeted with a rally of raucous laughter.
"We're gong to find out which one of these big morons is the dumbest!" I shot a glance of alarm at my comrades, who were staring at the grinning spectators, mortified. They brought out a big circular "applause-o-meter" thing labelled "smart" and "dumb" at either end of the scale. Then they started to read off out names and offences. "Clap hard if they're stupid!" instructed the host. "The winner's going to get a prize!"
In a few long minutes we had three "finalists."
"Wayne David Dunn, Daniel Henry Serviola, (and--oh _s_h_i_t_! my own name--) Thomas Alvin McCord: STEP FORWARD GENTLEMEN!
We had to step up and stand in our underpants while the MC publicly berated us. This was so embarrassing, I didn't know what I was going to do. He described in detail how much trouble we were in. He had the audience in his hand now, and they wanted to know what was going to happen next.
"I'll bet each one of these dumbasses deserves this award," he said. But unfortunately only one will get the honor, and we'll find out who it will be in just a moment! But first, Officer Wetzel is going to tell us what's in store for our winner. Bill, what's the Stupidest Convict going to get?"
"John, the winner is in trouble today if he's dumb enough to win our prize: he's going to find himself on the receiving end of a Stinging Lesson with the Hickr'y Switch!"
The crowd laughed as an officer in an academic robe and mortarboard stepped out with a long, pliable switch. He swung the rod several times through the air to demonstrate its swift and pliable stroke. I wished I had opted for the jail time now. I didn't know if I could handle this kind of punishment!
"He'll get twelve of the best, John," continued officer Wetzel, "and if his brain isn't too smart, why," he chuckled, "why he'll be getting his other end smartened up good!"
The crowd applauded at this, eager to see the embarrassing punishment.
"Well, Bill," said the MC, "let's find out who's going to get that lesson! Mr. McCord here made a big mistake last month when he went out drinking with his cousin Jake over there. Jake had been convicted for drunk driving before, but that didn't bother Mr. McCord at all! He decided he would take the wheel. And take the wheel he did. --After six beers!"
"Hah ha ha ha ha ha ha!" went the crowd.
"Didn't you, Mr. McCord!?" I wanted to sink into the ground.
"Pretty dumb, eh folks?"
The applause meter went high, way into the red. "Touch your toes!" a man yelled, eager to see me get swatted.
"But what about Mr. Dunn here? He thought it would fun to rob a house, and he was thoughtful enough to leave a business card with his address and phone number at the scene of the crime! The police casually drove to his home and arrested him-- in his own living room!"
"Aaah hah ha ha ha ha haah hah ha!" laughed the spectators. "What an idiot!" Wayne looked at the floor of the stage, scarlet with shame.
"What do you say to that, ladies and gentlemen? Shall we ask him to pay a penalty!?"
Up went the applause meter, high, high, higher, and touched the high mark before it went down. The Schoolmaster stepped up and smilingly showed him the long narrowing rod, with its wrapped handle and beaded whippy tip.
"We may have a winner, ladies and gentlemen. But let's not forget young Mr. Serviola here. He's a wrestler, and proud of his muscular build! See him? He's tough! Well, Big Boy was a-feeling his oats one night at the corner bar, and he thought he'd teach someone a lesson! So he got himself into a good old brawl. Unfortunately the man he picked to teach a lesson to was this man here--" he pointed to the Schoolmaster, Officer Hank Cummings of the county Sheriff's Department!"
There was droning roar of disbelief from the crowd.
"Now that was REALLY stupid! What do say to that, folks?"
The applause meter didn't even rise; it slammed into the high end of the meter and just stayed there for several seconds.
"Looks like we got ourselves a dummy!" said the host.
The crowd was still raging. They had their man.
"Gentlemen, we have a winner," said the MC. "Step back to the line, Mr. Dunn, Mr. McCord, and watch carefully." We went back and joined the other guys, gasping with relief. Dan was red in the face and looked back at his brother, as the Schoolmaster took a practice swing with the long, flexible instrument of correction.
"Into the Loser's Circle, Serviola!
Dan had to step into a red circle, under where a bucket was suspended.
"Ladies and gentleman, I deeply regret to present the winner of our contest. Help us welcome The Stupidest Convict!!"
As Dan's pants were taken down, the bucket tipped forward and started pouring thick, dark molasses all over him. Everyone laughed as he had to stand there like that in front of everyone and get syrupped! Tears were rolling down his cheeks as they humiliated him. His wide dick stood up straight. Here came the dunce cap!
He wasn't betting on this kind of punishment. The switch was really gonna sting! Bringing his balls forward, Dan bent and touched his toes.
Swwish--Thwwhaack!!
His howl were nearly drowned out by the roar of the crowd. Serviola jumped up and grabbed his butt. We were sympathetic, but we couldn't help laughing too. He was in no danger after all, just on the receiving end of a fair lesson given to many young men and boys for centuries!
The Schoolmaster told him to get back in position and take his punishment. He was enjoying every minute of this.
Swwish--Thwwhaack! Swwish--Thwwhaack! Swwish--Thwwhaack! went the rod. The Schoolmaster did his duty as Dan got a schoolhouse hiding.
Thwwhaack!
Thwwhaack!
Thwwhaack!
When his whipping was over, Dan got his pants up, his face moist and scarlet, and got down the scaffold with the rest of us, walking with difficulty. Any lingering high spirits or excitement was gone now, as we were marched on our way, and driven on with dread toward what was coming.
Pretty soon the pathway--clearly marked with painted footprints--widened out some, then opened up on either side. The barricades dropped away, and now we were in full view of the visitors again. There must have been nearly a thousand people there, though in the huge exhibition hall it hardly seemed crowded. Still, the State was generating plenty of revenue from entrance fees today, with us as the main attraction.
Up a ways on the right, a 18 or 19 year old teenager was experiencing a novel form of punishment. He was on a dunking booth! We made our way up to get a load of him in his predicament. He was perched on a merrily painted contraption known as "The Sorry Box." He had taken part in a school prank, and now he would pay the penance. We read the placard about how it worked and had to chuckle at the good-natured and effective lesson in store. Candidates for this ingenious device were generally taken to the public square. Instead of a target to throw balls at, however, this one had a "Wheel of Jeopardy" with spaces painted white and red. Spectators were invited to pay a small fee and give the wheel a spin. If it landed on white, the culprit was safe for the moment. But if it didn't, a buzzer triggered the dunk-seat and he went in the tank!
It looked like it was a big tank of pancake batter for the dude! The big boned boy was in front of the crowd in nuthin but his jockstrap. The school principal and the boy's father were there, as well as a police officer and several other officials. It looked like his basketball team and coach were watching too. He was never gonna live this down! But I'm afraid there was more than just a little public embarrassment at stake for this young man; for the coach was going to administer fifteen swats with the paddle every time he got dunked! Now we knew why they called it "the Hot Seat!" Ha ha ha! Of course he might get lucky and only get a couple of dunks, but if not--well, it was going to be a red face and a red behind for this young man!
"I can think of a few guys at the office who could do with a turn on this machine!" I thought.
A man with two boys stepped up and paid a buck fifty. The first boy gave the wheel a yank. Safe! There was a sigh of disappointment from the crowd, but then the other boy said "Ple-e-ease! Let me DUNK him, Dad!" The fellow chuckled good-naturedly and paid another dollar and a half for his son. Whi-i-izzzz! White - red - white --- oh, it looked like the bad boy might be in trouble, uh oh, red! Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!! Plop! Splaatt!! Down he went, right into the big, waiting tank!
You should have heard the mirth around the dunking booth. The spectators gathered in closer now as they hauled the boy from tank and led him to his penalty. "Board of Education for the Seat of Learning," said the coach, bending him over. Swwwaatttt!!!!
What a great, excellent punishment! As the boy learned and the paddle stung, we got going on the way to our own destination, perhaps for a dose of the same!
There were plenty of other punishments in progress as we continues our march of shame. For an unfortunate fellow down the way, it was Tar and Feathers. He had lost a lawsuit, with no money, and was about to pay in an unexpected fashion. The plaintiff, under police supervision, was to be allowed to administer the penalty. The loser, a stocky thick-shouldered man, was fastened to a post. He was in his underpants, shackled. The plaintiff, assisted by his sons, had been allowed to strip their adversary to his BVD's, as an eager mob gathered. I couldn't imagine gettin' my clothes taken off in front of all those people. They allowed him a moment to experience this embarrassment before they reached for the buckets of thick, steaming tar. Above the man's head on a crossbar, a large tub of white feathers was ready. Taking up a stiff-bristled brush, the plaintiff now began to paint the warm tar over the man's body; first his broad, hairy chest and belly, and paying plenty of attention to his armpits.
"I--I'm sure sorry about that money, Mr. Phelps!" the victim said, beginning to sob.
"Oh yes, I expect you are," Phelps said, as he lovingly spread the tar. "Scott, take this brush and tar his backside. Get his shorts down, Mike! Are the feathers ready?"
Man, that poor guy. What must it be like getting his ass tarred and feathered in public? I've heard they used to do it a lot in the colonial days, and it was quite a popular punishment. It happened to all kinds of guys. After you got it, you got ridden around the town on a rail! Right in your birthday suit! Wow. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea, these old methods. They sure knew how to punish!
Now the man's underpants were lowered and he cried as they tarred him. Phelps attended to him with a chuckle, taking his time. Ho ho, time for the feathers!
Over on the left ahead, a class of convicts had lost some kind of game. As a result, they were all in the "Spanking Booth," for licks with the "Whuppin' Paddle." It was really just a roped-off area on the grass with spectators around it. A trooper at the entrance had the Board, and the losers were lined up with their britches down, in the underpants with targets on their butts, bending over. For five bucks, a guy could enter the spanking booth, take the paddle, and swat the convicts as hard as he wanted, five times each! As a prisoner held his ankles, his head was fixed in stocks, so he couldn't see who was spanking him. I thought that was pretty good. I wondered what kind of game they had lost to earn them their turn in the spanking booth?
Just then the trooper decided to reintroduce us to his crop. Whap! Whap! it went, making us yell and hop. "Time for yo' lickin', pansies!" he said.
This was it, our next stop would be the public amphitheater used for first offender punishments. Serviola and and Taggart were now separated from the group and escorted to an observation area, as they had paid their penalties. But they were going to have to watch us get punished before they were done. Skip and Wayne got marched off also, to the arena with the whipping post for repeat offenders.
And now it's our turn. We are marched at a trot into what turns into a passage with barricades on either side, painted red. They are hurrying us up--_s_h_i_t_, what's the _d_a_m_n_ rush? "Go, go, go!" They are hollering at us and starting to push and shove. Into the wide corridor we go, which now, like the one with the heat lamps before, has the walls all hung with switches, straps, and many paddles. Between these are pictures of spankings! "Move! Move! MOVE!" shout the troopers. We are hustling it up good, faster and faster. As we turn the corner, there are banners to greet us.
ATTENTION!
PUBLIC SPANKING ARENA AHEAD!
WHUPPINS ADMINISTERED!
"Move your pansy asses!!" they holler, driving us on.
DANGER!
PRINCIPAL'S
OFFICE!
BOARD OF EDUCATION IN USE!!
Now several troopers get behind and begin to drive us with their whips. Whap! "Hyaaah! Git along little Dogies!" they yell. Whap! Whap! Whap!
PUNISHMENT
ADMINISTRATION AREA!
DO NOT PROCEED!
Whap! Whap! Whap! With steady swats they whip our backs and shoulders, and down on our thighs to make us run.
Whap! Whap! Whap!
DANGER FOR MEN!
DISCIPLINARY
ZONE!!
RISK OF PANTSING AND
SWATS WITH THE PADDLE!!
Whap! Whap! Whap! We turn the corner at top speed, and there is what must be the outside wall of the amphitheater where the spectacle is going to happen.
So here we are outside the spanking arena and waiting to get called in for our punishments. Through the glass pane in the door we can see 5 convicts with their pants down, bent over trestles on the stage; and we watch as in tears of smart and humiliation they're getting their hairy butts blistered cherry red by a paddling! We can hear the yells and the roars of laughter. They're gritting their teeth in shame and disgrace as they get it in front of the audience; we see the troopers' look of satisfaction as they give the spanking; and we can hear the resounding smack each time one of the men gets a swat with the paddle! Only a few minutes, and we will be over the trestles in those mens's place, grabbing our ankles! Our hearts drop to the pits of our stomachs as we think what it's going to be like to get a public paddling. Everyone's gonna watch. Everyone's gonna see. They're gonna pull our pants down and paddle our butts!
Now there's a roar of applause. The troopers are taking a bow. The spanked convicts are being led off bawling in tears and snot--five very remorseful men! Looks like it's our turn now--
The door is opening--
The troopers are coming, one for each man--
The troopers pull our pants down and take us by the ears!
In we go!!