My Fraternity Paddling

by Nathan <Nathan9001@yahoo.com>

Fifty-five dollars. Not that much really, and as I write the check the memory of that time comes flooding back. Yeah, back then, I can remember it all so well, when I was just not quite nineteen, ending up my Freshman year in college and doing the classes and the girls and the parties and living life to the fullest. I was naīve and stupid and big-eyed, and I thought I was so _d_a_m_n_ cool.

I pledged the frat in the fall, and got through the hazing and the hell week and all the rest, and after that it was great to be a brother, one of the gang and respected by those around me. I wore the shirt, knew the chants, and went to all the games. Our fraternity was a force on campus, and we had a lot of fun. We chased the girls, had our parties, and after I was in the frat college was just an adventure that seemed to become better with each day that passed. Best of all, frat guys got laid.

Now, I won't tell you the fraternity name, or even the school where it happened, for that matter, and if you think you are gonna figure them out from this story you are wrong. Sure, more than a few years have passed since I felt that paddle and got my ass fried, but even so the photographs and the videos and the rest of it were taken, and so since I know they are still there, behind the bar, I cannot tell you everything. Instead, I write the check now, as I do every month, the fifty-five dollars to a fraternity that I am no longer a member of. Thrown out, expelled. Banished. And yet, even so, I write the check and I always will.

We had a snack bar, and they ran it with an honor system. Just a big jar you threw the money into, then grabbed what you wanted and had your snack. They had microwave popcorn, instant pizzas in the freezer, sausage sticks and cheese sticks and crackers. There were candy bars of all kinds, and cups of instant noodles and even some hot dogs that you could nuke up. Everything was sold at cost and it was cheap, and we all used it. Most things were fifty cents, and a few things were a dollar. Sodas were thirty-five cents. Beer was a dollar a can. Yeah, I remember that one especially! None of us ever put any big bills in the jar, partly because we didn't have any and partly because the prices were so low. They even had an IOU list...which you could use if you were really short, but you needed to keep it paid off or you would be talking to the Sergeant of Arms.

Now, behind the bar was the paddle. It wasn't a little toy paddle, that much is for sure. It had a history that was more than sixty years old. It was old and the varnish had yellowed over time, and it looked more like a decoration than something to be used to punish someone. It was almost four feet long, and it had 32 holes drilled in a double row right down the center. It was big, and heavy, and rounded, and all of us knew the stories and all of us knew it was there.

Now, I had never seen it used, being only a freshman, but it hung behind the bar as a reminder. We all knew that by a 95% vote of the brothers any one of us could be forced to submit to its lessons. There were four individual photo albums under it, on a shelf, and those albums were known as the "Library of Shame." Each album contained pictures of a single punishment session for one unfortunate brother, and their names were written on the binders. In them were some of the most humiliating pictures of guys ever taken. They were old pictures, and while we all had read the names of the brothers on the binders of the albums I had never met any of them. They had received their punishment and their banishment long before I had pledged the frat. Three of the books were so old all of the pictures were black and white. In all the books you could see the brothers faces, and their asses and their humiliation as they took the paddle and received their punishment. There was something else in the pictures, something else that we used to laugh at and joke about and shake our heads just thinking about. In every single one of them there was a picture of the guy ejaculating, just shooting his wad out for all the world to see even as his ass was being pulverized. No wonder they called it the "Ceremony of Shame." Yeah, those former four brothers were famous, and their individual photo albums sat under the paddle, a constant reminder that one thing you couldn't do was to shame the house or its members.

I never thought about it every happening to me. Perhaps if I had thought about it a little more I might have made different choices. I don't know why I did it...just out the money the first time I guess and then after that it just got easier. I mean, I just did it....just took something and didn't drop anything in the jar or put my name on the IOU list. A week or so later I borrowed a five, when my wallet was empty and I needed it for something. I don't know what I was thinking...but the five turned into a lot of fives, and each time I figured I'd pay it back sooner or later. I'm not really a thief, never was that, although I had shoplifted in high school and had gotten away with it. So, anyway, I did occasionally take a bill from the big jar in the snack bar, and I just didn't think anybody noticed and nobody cared.

I was wrong.

I remember the Saturday...oh God, how can I forget it? It was the worst day of my life, before or since. We had all been called together, for a special meeting, and after we all had gathered in the big room with the snack bar and the tables and the stage where we had the parties our frat's President Jason Heartman called the meeting to order. Then he asked us to each pass our wallets to the brother beside us. After we had done that, passed our wallets, he started talking about the meaning of a fraternity, and how one brother is dependent on another. He emphasized the need for integrity, for unity, and for honesty.

Yeah yeah yeah. I was listening, as was everyone, but I hadn't figured out the wallet thing and I was curious as hell.

Then, well then he started talking about the snack bar, and how somebody had been stealing from it. I remember the chill I felt as he mentioned it, and then how he went into how the money had been taken and the bar had actually lost money on some weeks and the normal small profit margin had slipped to nothing. They had done an inventory and been checking for a while, looking at the times when things had disappeared and trying to pin down the list of suspects. They said that they figured that someone had lifted fifty-five dollars out of the kitty since they had started looking for him.

I swallowed, and I think the fear was intense then. I did the mental calculations...and knew that was probably about the amount I had taken. It was pretty _d_a_m_n_ close anyway. I could remember some of the fives and the ones, and I knew I had had a few beers that I had drank for free. There was also a few food items too that I hadn't paid for. _d_a_m_n_! I had also taken two five's earlier that very day right after lunch when the house had been empty. But the jar had been full, with at least a hundred or more in it, and so the ten bucks I had taken hadn't seemed at the time to be that big of a deal.

_s_h_i_t_. Yeah, the total amount might not have been quite that much, but it was _d_a_m_n_ close, and I knew, just KNEW that I was the guy they were talking about I swallowed my fear, and forced a smile, trying to look as shocked as everyone around me.

That's when Jason said "Now, this person lives among us, steals from us, and robs the house and in turn robs us all. The leadership of the house has called this meeting to root him out and to make him pay for his disloyalty."

I looked around, as did everyone else, and as I did I saw anger on their faces and I tried to make mine look the same. Still, my heart was pounding and my fear was real.

Then, Jason said: "If you will please open up the wallet you are holding and remove any five dollar bills that you find and lay them in front of you. Sometime after lunch today our thief struck again and two fives were taken."

My face probably went white. I don't know. I remember thinking that I had already spent one of them...I had bought some _s_h_i_t_ after my last class and so I only had one of the fives from the snack bar kitty in my wallet. Still, I had that five, and I was scared. But lots of guys have fives, so what the hell did that prove anyway? It turned out that of all the guys in that room, only seven of us had a five dollar bill in his wallet and only Ricky Rienworth had two. Immediately, we became the suspects, and I could see everyone looking at each of us.

Everyone was staring at Ricky especially, and his two fives. He started to speak up, to defend the bills in his wallet, when Jason put his hand up and silenced him. Then, he said the words that doomed me.

"Last night, the trap was set. We marked all of the bills in the jar with special ink, and we are only interested in finding the marked bills. When we find the brother who is holding them, we will have our thief."

It was over, and I was done. I almost spoke up....but then I remembered some movie I had seen and thought that it might be a trick. I took the chance and tried to stay calm...to pretend I knew nothing and to just go with the flow of the meeting. As we all watched, they had this black light tube that had been mounted in a shop light, the kind you use to work on cars...and they already had it plugged in on the end of an extension cord. Mark Stinson carried it around, walking down between the tables and shining it on the bills that were laid there. When he came to my five, to my wallet, my heart was pounding and I was praying that it would be OK. But it wasn't.

"S-T-O-L-E-N"

The letters were blue, and stamped clear across the face of the bill and when I saw them I gasped. They all looked at me then, and I looked back and my eyes teared up and then I started apologizing. I begged them...promised to pay them back, and made up some excuse of not thinking, of being poor even and only borrowing it. I could tell as I talked and my shame grew that my words were falling on deaf ears, and the room was silent and the looks said it all. Finally, I looked around, and I just stopped talking altogether. There was nothing to say, not really, and all I could do was hang my head in shame and feel their stares.

Jeffrey Hamilton was our Sergeant of Arms. He was the house disciplinarian, along with Mark Stinson, who was his deputy. Jeff was a junior and a good friend of mine. He was African-American, although back then he called himself black, and he was the only minority we had in our all white fraternity. I've never cared what race someone was, and our house was good that way. But he was a big man, and he was always working out and he had that strong, football player body that made him perfect for the role he had been elected to.

Even though I knew he was my friend, I also knew I was screwed, and when I thought of him punishing me or swinging a paddle I just knew I was in for it. I think I was hoping for a reprieve...praying that the big paddle wouldn't be used. Oh I prayed that they would give me another chance.

After a few minutes the house was brought to order again and then I was given another opportunity to speak, and I used it to apologize and ask for forgiveness. I promised to pay back the money, and to make things right. Then, I waited, and the brothers voted. In the end, it didn't matter what I had said. The vote was unanimous, and my fate was sealed.

I was sentenced to the "Ceremony of Shame" and when I heard that was my fate I bit my lip and felt the tears well up inside. God! While we all knew of it, and had seen the pictures of the four who had received it before me, none of us, including me, had ever seen it performed for real. Still, it was all written down somewhere in the house book, and while I didn't know exactly what the specific punishment was, I did know it was all written down and they weren't going to be making it up. I also knew that the paddle, the big paddle that was always behind the bar, waiting, well, after the vote I knew it was waiting for me.

After that Jeffrey and Mark took me by the arms and jerked me up to a standing position. All eyes were on me, and my face flushed crimson. Then, they escorted me out of the room and upstairs to the fraternity study room. I was so ashamed and I felt like a criminal. I thought about running, and figured if I got the chance I might bolt. They must have sensed it. When we got to the room they had me put my hands behind my back, and they then put a thick zip-tie around my wrists, hooking them together better than any handcuffs. I wasn't trying to fight them....hell, what could I do with two of them and one of me? Besides, I had been caught and I knew I had it coming. BUT OH GOD I WAS SCARED! I know I was shaking and I felt my knees go weak. They noticed it, and they let me sit down, in a chair at one of the desks. Then they surprised me by taking two more zip ties and hooking me to the chair by my ankles. I wouldn't have gone anywhere anyway with my hands bound, but now tied into the chair the option wasn't even a possibility.

I asked them "When...I mean, how soon?" They said "Tonight" and then they walked out, closing the door behind them. I heard the bolt close and the lock turn, and I knew I was there and there wasn't anything I could do about it. I was so humiliated....and when I thought of the pictures in the albums behind the bar my heart pounded in my chest.

It was around nine-thirty in the evening when they came for me. Jeffrey was in his role as Sergeant of Arms, and when he came into the room he was all business. As soon as I saw him I knew whatever our friendship had been was gone forever. He cut the zips around my ankles, and I was jerked upright. Then I was told "You won't need your jeans."

I remember blushing. God. I've had my pants off around other guys lots of times, but never when I HAD TO, and there is a big difference in being told to remove your pants and in just taking them off. Jeff unsnapped my jeans and lowered the fly, and then they worked them down and helped me to step out of them. I was wearing Calvin Cline BVD's. They were popular back then, and lots of the guys had them. Mine were gray, and they were tight and hugged my package and OH GOD it was just so humiliating.

Next, Jeff and Mark lowered my underwear to my knees. I was shaking, and my _c_o_c_k_ was shrunken and embarrassingly small. I looked down, at Mark, and in his hand was a can of Rise shaving cream and a razor. I will never forget it. I saw it, and my eyes went wide, and then I begged them.

"Please....don't...don't shave me. Don't do that...please!"

Jeff said "Sorry dude. You don't deserve your pubic hair, and its important that the brothers when they see you know you have had it removed. The punishment book requires that we shave it, so it's coming off. You can stand here like a good little boy and let us do it, or you can struggle and make it difficult. If you struggle, we will get help and then we will pull your pubes out by the roots. I swear I'm not joking here. Now, don't move...we wouldn't want to nick you."

I felt the tears then, and yet I stood there and let them do it. I didn't see it as much of a choice. They had a pair of scissors, and the first thing they did was run it up my back and then strip off my t-shirt. It was my frat shirt, and after they cut it off me it was ruined. Then, they used the scissors first to take off the majority of my bush. Then, I felt the shaving cream. I felt Mark working it into my pubic mound, and then I felt the razor that took off my hair, stroke after stroke after stroke. I was surprised how fast it disappeared. After they had taken the bush they did my balls and after my balls they did my pits. Soon, I was bald, totally bald below the waist and my _s_e_x_ hair was gone from my body. My dick looked funny, and it was semi erect and yet it looked like the crotch of a little boy. I had the armpits of a ten year old.

Next, Mark took out a tube of Ben Gay and squirted out a big blob into the palm of his hand. I watched him then as he smeared in into my crotch...working it into my sac and up and down the shaft. I felt him doing it and it felt almost oily and then it began to burn a little and then the burn increased until my genitiles felt like they were on fire.

"What are you doing? Oh GOD...my balls...oh MY DICK! _s_h_i_t_!!!!" I yelled!

He looked up at me and smiled, then he globbed another pile of the goo and just reached out and cupped my balls in his hand, cradling them as he worked in the sports cream. Then he said "Oh, you will enjoy it I'm sure." Then, he droped my balls and grabbed my _c_o_c_k_, and then worked in the cream as he ran his hand up and down my pole. I grew stiffer by the second. After that, he pulled up my BVD's and gave my tented bulge a little, friendly pat. I felt so humiliated and my crotch was feeling really hot....on fire even...and that's when I realized I was in serious trouble and my _c_o_c_k_ started twitching in my underwear. God! There I was, standing in only my underwear with my bald dick, stiff and hot, pushing out the material and the heat rising by the second to higher and higer levels. God! I wanted to cry! Then, with one of my previous friends on each of my arms, I was escorted downstairs to the big room, where the fraternity was assembled and the paddle was waiting. On my way down I confessed that I had to piss....and I asked them if I could at least do that.

Jeff said "Sure....if you want to piss your pants its OK with me." Then he pulled me harder and they pushed me towards the room. I started to struggle then, fighting them...the heat burning now so hot I couldn't sit still. God! No! And as the heat built and built my _c_o_c_k_ seemed to grow ever stiffer.

When they dragged me into the room I could have died. It was packed! There were all of the brothers, all of them! There was also a number of alumni there, and it was obvious that the word had been put out and invitations issued. There were at least a dozen girls there too, and I recognized most of them from our sister sorority. The girls were in the front row, next to what looked like a steel rack, ready to hold someone. Me!

It was made from portions of a chain link fence, without the fencing material. An inverted "U" shaped bar rose up out of the floor of the stage about waist high. Directly in front of the horizontal bar was a single fence post, and it too was secured into the stage floor. When I saw the steel post and the horizontal bar I know my face blushed red and my humiliation went to the core. The Ben Gay working on my dick intensified my humiliation, and when combined with the need to piss my erection grew stiff and hard and eager. My underwear was bulging, my burning _c_o_c_k_ tenting out the material and as I looked at it my face flushed with the shame.

I couldn't take my eyes off of the bar. I had never seen the bar or the post installed on the stage, yet the places for it were built into the stage and from the photo albums I knew it had been set up there before. I also knew it was where I was to be tied to take my punishment. As I looked at it, and the leather straps that were attached to it, I knew from the pictures I had seen in the albums that the straps were waiting for me.

It didn't take them long to get me in them either. They dragged me right to the bar, and then pushed on my back until I was lying across it and bent over, my bottom stuck up in the air. Then, they pulled my legs apart and cuffed my ankles to the leather restraints that were at the base of the inverted "U". After my legs were secure, they cut the nylon zip-tie that held my wrists, and then two brothers grabbed my arms and stretched them forward, straight out in front of me, to the vertical post that was standing right in front of me. The post was higher than the bar my ass was draped over, so although my arms barely reached, they forced me in a slightly standing position. There they strapped them to the wrist cuffs that were attached to the top of the vertical post.

I was stretched out, over the horizontal bar, and that bar literally forced my ass to jutt up into the air, almost as if it was eager to feel the paddle. Because my arms and shoulders were slightly higher than was my ass, I was almost forced to look up at the crowd, and there was nothing blocking the view of my package that my underwear still luckily covered.

I could hardly move. My heart was pounding, and as I looked in front of me I was facing the audience of seated witnesses. Everyone seemed to be anxious and excited as they watched me get tied into place. I knew this was gong to be bad and yet there was nothing I could do about it. In front of my face was a tripod, and mounted on it was a video camera. Likewise, there was a second camera off to the side, looking on at a profile view, and a third camera pointed directly at my ass. Two of the brothers were standing, and I could see the Nikons in their hands and I knew that they would be photographing my punishment from every angle. God it was humiliating!

I wanted to beg them not to do the pictures, but I knew I was being turned into another example and there was no point in even asking. There was no doubt that as soon as this was over there would be five photo albums on the bar. Really, the only question was how long it would last, and when it would start. I was secured in place, waiting for my punishment, when Jeff leaned up to me and whispered in my ear: "You deserve this and your ass is mine! I hope you cry and beg like a baby." Then, I saw him go to the video camera and press the button. The red LED came on, and I was staring at it as it looked into my face.

Suddenly, I heard the rap of a gavel, and then the room grew quiet and the fraternity president began to speak.

"Before us is one of our brothers. It is past time for his punishment. He is tied before us this evening convicted of his crimes of thievery against the house. He deserves the punishment he will receive, and he will get what he deserves. In just a few minutes you will see him be stripped of the rest of his clothing, and then he will be punished. Afterwards, after he has received what he deserves, he will be stripped of his membership in this fraternity as well, and then he will be expelled from the house forever. We will not have a thief live among us! He stole fifty-five dollars from the members of this fraternity. He will receive one stroke of the punishment paddle for every dollar he stole.

The lights in the room dimmed, and some spotlights came on lighting up me and the stage. Then I heard laughter. One stroke for every dollar! Oh GOD! I pulled hard on the restraints, and my muscles rippled and someone fired off a flash that blinded me. I bucked my hips, and they were secure and I was tied well. I could feel the cool air on my naked chest, and I felt my underwear covered ass jutting up and eager. Thanks to the Ben Gay my balls were burning up, and my dick was already on fire. I felt so exposed...and with my legs spread so wide and my body facing the audience, my entire package bulged in my underwear and everyone could tell what I had. I wiggled and tested the bonds, and my thighs jerked and yet other than wiggle my ass up and down there was almost nothing I could do.

I felt Jeff behind me, and I looked over my shoulder to see what he was doing. I was just in time to see his black hand reaching out, grabbing the waistband of my Calvins. He grabbed them, and I swallowed. God! Then, I turned and looked away from him, out into the room and the crowd and my friends. I can't describe the feeling....the room full of people, all staring, staring at ME, and the Sergeant of Arms holding the waistband of my underwear. One of the girls in the front laughed, and then, before I could think about it, Jeff just jerked his hand, hard, and when he did my underwear ripped, and suddenly, and instantly, they were gone and I was as naked as the day I was born. Everyone seemed to laugh.....as my underwear came off and my eager and hairless _c_o_c_k_ and bald balls went on display!

I was jutting up and stiff and everyone laughed when they saw my excitement. I just wanted to die!

The flashbulbs caught the moment, my expression, the fear and the dread and the embarrassment. Then, the room just suddenly roared and as I spun my head around I was just in time to see the blur of wood.