I was 19, slightly more than 3 weeks from completing my freshman year at college, and four months from turning 20. I attended a small, private college about 3 hours away from my familys farm. My roommate, Chad, was from the same general area where I grew up, and we had known each other from high school sports. Chad and I were part of residential complex, made up of three-bedroom, three-bathroom, living-dining suites, for students at the college. We were, of course, in a freshman unit, not atypically named Wild Hall. Being away from home, on our own for nearly 10 months had turned out to be a pretty heady experience for both of us.
In early May, my Dads brother, Uncle Ben, called and said his son, my cousin, Tom, wanted to come and visit me for a weekend, to see what this college was like. Tom had just turned 17 in April, and was a junior in high school. Uncle Ben did the talking, asking me if it would be okay, and if we could accommodate Tom. I told him yes, of course, that we had an air mattress as well as a hide-a-bed in the sofa in the living area. He reminded me that both Tom and I were underage, so there should be no drinking, and no misbehaving while Tom was there, or, for that matter (he added), while I was a student. He reminded me that my Dad would be very concerned if I were to get into trouble there. Then, he made me promise to take seriously the responsibility of looking after Tom carefully, to make sure that we were both on our best behavior, and to be a good example for Tom.
Sure, Uncle Ben. Great. Dont worry. Do you want me to come and get Tom? I asked. To my surprise, he told me that with my promises to him, he would let Tom drive to the college.
On Thursday evening, about 7:30, Tom knocked at the door of our suite. We brought him in, asked if hed eaten (which he had on the way), and then sat around and talked until almost midnight. Then, we inflated the air mattress in the bedroom that Chad and I shared, and I gave Tom my bed, while I slept on the air mattress. The next morning, we were up and at breakfast as 8, and Tom went with us to the 9 a. m. class that both Chad and I had. Tom tagged along to my classes for the rest of the morning, and we met up with Chad and some of his friends at the dining commons for lunch. After lunch, I had two more classes, which Tom went to with me. By 3:30 that afternoon, I was done for the week, and we were back at our dorm-suite. We kind of tidied things up for a bit, and by 4:30 Chad came in from his last class for the week.
All right! The weekend! he yelled. We joined in enthusiastically. Lets go get some beer, man! Chad encouraged. He, like I, was underage, but he knew I had picked up a fake ID in the fall semester, and had used it a couple of times to buy beer, and once to get into a young, singles club. So, with Tom at my side, we all piled in Chads Jeep Wrangler, and drove to a discount beverage store. When I handed the clerk my fake ID, along with two 24-packs, she hesitated, looking back and forth at the ID and at me. My pulse accelerated, and I felt myself starting to sweat under my t-shirt. Finally, she accepted it, and we paid for the beer and left.
Back at the dorm-suite, we ordered pizza, and broke out the beer, while we sat down to watch a basketball game on tv. A little past 8 p. m., some friends of Chad, who were commuter students from a nearby town came by for a visit. We shared our pizza and beer with them, but by 10 p. m. we had run out of beer. All of us were well under the influence, but I was probably the most sober. So, I was elected to go back and get some more beer.
I left Tom with Chad and his friends, and drove very carefully to the nearest party store, so I could get the beer and get back without getting stopped for DUI. I knew if that happened, my rearend would be cooked with my Dad. Returning to the dorm-suite without any incidents, I was surprised to smell pot and see Chads friends smoking joints and passing them around with Tom, off in the kitchen area of our suite. Chad, who was in ROTC on campus, absolutely refused to use any drugs, and was back at the tv, watching basketball. We both knew that neither one of us used or wanted to get involved with drugs. I was upset and kind of panicked to see these guys introducing pot into our suite, and to my cousin.
As tactfully as I could muster, I explained that they needed to put that stuff away and not to get it out again, because we did not use it and did not want anyone using it in our place. I didnt say anything about not wanting my cousin being initiated in it, although that was one of the motivating factors. They looked surprised, then smiled and laughed like I was kidding. Seriously, I told them. Get rid of that stuff, or youve got to leave. That went over like a disease, but they complied. By 11:30, they had left.
Chad, Tom, and I broke into the beer that I brought back, and by 1:30 a. m., we were all smashed. As we were stumbling off to bed, there was a knock on our door. Although unsteadily, I walked to the door and unlocked and opened it. There were two campus police officers. I was stunned and scared. Y-yes, sir. What is it? I muttered.
We had a report from some of your neighbors that there was a smell of marijuana and people using it in this suite, the one officer said. Oh, oh, I thought. Chads friends had gotten us into real trouble. In my dazed condition, I couldnt think of anything to say except the truth. Its true, officer, I said. A couple of my roommates friends were here earlier, and we had gone out for a short while – I changed it to we to protect Tom and Chad, and I didnt say what we were doing. When we came back, they were still here and were smoking joints. We told them to leave and they did. That was about 3 hours ago, I exaggerated the time span.
Well, they were favorably impressed with my honesty, and asked if we could give them the names of the two friends. I only knew their first names, Keith and Eric; but Chad gave them their full names, and the town where they lived. He explained that they were commuter students at the college. Then the officer addressed the obvious intoxication of Chad, Tom, and me, as well as the many empty beer cans lying around. You boys know drinking is illegal for anybody under 21. It looks like youve been at it for quite a while, too. Maybe we need to take you boys to the office and use the Breathalyzer.
Now, I was panicked again. Ah, . . . ah, officer, I began. Weve just been celebrating passing a big, tough test. I know we shouldntve, ah, but weve stayed put. We havent gone anywhere, and were about to go to bed for the night, I promised, lying about my drive for replenished supplies.
All right. Look, Im going to give you boys a break, since you were honest and cooperative. Ive got to write up an incident report, describing what I found and saw; but since I didnt actually see you boys drink any of this beer, and I dont have any tests showing that you are intoxicated; if you guys get yourselves right to bed, well leave and simply note that when we investigated and found the beer cans, the residents were in bed sleeping, and there was no opportunity or reason to administer any kind of tests to them. Okay?
In our drunken stupor, we jumped at the offer, never thinking that the detailed, specific information in the report, plus the identifying information about us, could be harmful later on. We all high-tailed it back into the bedroom, jumped into the beds and me on the air mattress, and turned out the lights. We heard the officers close the door. The next thing we knew, it was Saturday afternoon and all three of us were awakening with terrible, pounding hangovers. We all laid around the dorm-suite the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, feeling like we had been run over by a train.
Finally, about 9 p. m., we felt like we needed to eat something, so I offered to go out and get hamburger combo meals for everybody. Chad wanted coffee and a chocolate milk shake, too; I got the same thing for me, but only the milk shake for Tom. This time, I took Tom along with me in the car. He complained that he felt sick, and that made me feel kind of sick about what had happened. We were gone about 30 minutes, and from 9:30 that evening until shortly after midnight, we stayed put in the dorm, watching some basketball on tv, and then hitting the hay to try to recover before Monday was on us. Sunday afternoon, about 2, Tom packed up and drove home.
Three weeks later was the end of the semester. I had packed up my belongings into my car and was ready for the drive home that afternoon. Wearing clothes from the previous day, I stopped by the university gym for a final workout that was free, since I knew I wouldnt have the use of a gym at home over the summer. Although I would be working hard, physically, on the farm with my father, its not the same as a thorough, systematic workout.
After a rigorous workout, I showered, and then pulled out a clean beater and a clean pair of Kansas J-Hawk basketball shorts. What was missing was a clean pair of socks and boxers. Instead, all I had was a thin, tight, runners jock-brief, and no clean socks at all. Oh, well, the jock-brief was clean and would do for the drive home, and I could go without socks. So, I pulled on the jock-brief, the basketball shorts over it, the t-shirt over my head and torso, and stepped barefoot into my cross-training shoes.
Pulling away from the gym and campus that I wouldnt see again until fall, I felt a wave of nostalgia, then turned my mind towards the 3-hour drive home. The cool, late-spring breeze made the drive home kind of exciting. I was speeding unthinkingly when suddenly a state trooper pulled up behind me with his top light flashing. I got a ticket for 82 in a 55 speed zone. It was for $285! I was mad and felt sick at the same time. That was a lot of money to have to pay when I would be working over the summer to save up for the next year at college. Besides, if my Dad found out I was speeding, it would be big trouble for me. So, I stashed the ticket in the glove box of the car, and headed back home. This time I set the cruise control at only about 4 miles over the speed limit.
I had to pass my Uncle Bens farm about 6 miles before arriving at my parents farm. Feeling like it would give me a pick-me-up to visit my Aunt and Uncle and my cousins as the big college dude, I decided to stop by, even though it was already early evening. I hopped out of the car, walked confidently up the front walk, and knocked on the door. My 17-year-old cousin, Tom, answered the door. When he opened the door he really looked shocked, and he was a wreck. His eyes and face were red, his hair was disorderly, and it was obvious he had been doing some crying. He tried to quietly shut the door behind him while telling me to get out of there.
Whats wrong?! I spoke out too loudly. Before Tom could explain anything that made sense, Uncle Ben had heard my voice, and came up behind Tom, pulled the door open, and called out my name, telling me to get inside that he needed to see me. He barked at Tom to get back to his room, and my cousin melted away instantly. I had no idea what was going on, but I was about to find out, all-too-soon, what was going on, what had already gone on, and what was about to go happen.
My roommates friends, who had come over to drink with Chad and me on the Friday when my cousin, Tom, was visiting me at the college, are both of legal drinking age. They are also commuters, living just a few miles from the college. After Chad and I had give the campus police the information about them smoking pot in our dorm-suite, the college had notified them that they were being investigated on campus and would be subject to discipline, and also referred the matter to the county sheriff.
A deputy had gone to their homes, talked with their parents, and informed them of what had taken place. Although, at first, they had tried to blame Chad and Tom and me, because of what we had told the campus police, and what they had seen, that story was quickly dispensed with. Each of them had then been placed on probation at the college, charged with misdemeanors and given fines and probation by the court, and had the punishment of their fathers anger to deal with.
In retaliation to Chad and me, they had informed the sheriffs deputy, and their parents, that we, along with my cousin, Tom, had been drinking on campus, in our dorm-suite, all afternoon and evening, while being underage, and had offered them beer while they were there. It turned out that the father of Chads friend, Eric, knew Chad and his Dad. So, being concerned about everybodys misbehavior, he called Chads Dad to tell him about what all had gone on that weekend. Chads father knew my Uncle Ben, and called Uncle Ben to give him a full report on what had transpired during Toms visit to the big-men-on-campus. All this took place in the last week and a half before the semester ended.
After the call from my roommates father, Uncle Ben had sat Tom down and had a long, heart-to-heart discussion with him. Tom, who is basically an honest kid, came clean and told his father everything – including smoking the pot while I was out getting more beer illegally! This had occurred about four nights before I left to return home for the summer. Uncle Ben was furious. He took action right away, which included tanning Toms backside with the paddle that night, and for the next four nights in a row, for drinking, smoking pot, concealing it, going along with me and my roommate and his friends, and getting himself in trouble with the law. In fact, Tom had just gotten the fourth of his spankings with the paddle about an hour before I arrived.
Uncle Ben led me into the room that was used as his office, and closed the door. He wasted no time in explaining to me that Toms backside had had plenty of interactions with the paddle for his unacceptable behavior while visiting me at the college. Underage drinking, getting drunk, and pot smoking were inexcusable and unacceptable in any of our families. He told me that he held Tom fully accountable for everything that he did over that weekend, which is why he was being punished with the paddle repeatedly, as well as being grounded for two months. Boy, I knew Uncle Ben was tough, but this time was really a killer!
He then went on further, however, to say that it was also inexcusable for me to have been drinking, and then to have allowed, and encouraged, Tom to drink, and even to smoke pot, in my college dorm. I started to argue with him about the pot-smoking, saying that it had happened while I was away from the dorm, but in so doing, I talked myself into a trap. He asked me why I had left Tom alone with those guys, and my roommate, when I knew they we all were drinking, and what business I had even being out on the road after I had been drinking, and when I was underage at that. He reminded me that he had made me promise to keep Tom and myself on our best behavior, when he agreed to let Tom to come visit. I knew that any more discussion on the topic would really anger Uncle Ben – especially if Tom had told him, or if he had already figured out, how much alcohol we had put away that night.
I was stunned. Just a few minutes before I was on my way home from a long successful year at college and playing the part of a jubilant adult. Now, here I was, my speech shut down, as I felt so embarrassed and guilty before my Uncle. Then he said he knew my parents would be really interested to hear about my antics; and that statement certainly took away any remaining composure off my face.
I spoke up at once, starting to plead for that not to happen. He cut me off, however, saying that he wasnt going to cut me any slack or any deals. He said he did intend to address with me directly my own misconduct, and failure to keep my word – what my parents did was their business and my problem. I gulped, choking back tears that involuntarily pushed themselves up into my eyes, as instantly I remembered a number of times in the past when I had had to pay for my actions by experiencing his paddle.
Ah, Uncle Ben, I began. My folks dont really need to know, cause Im gonna take responsibility for what happened – for my actions. I can explain. My wheedling was falling on my Uncles deaf ears. He interrupted me. You bet your blistered behind youre going to take responsibility for what happened. Just like Tom is taking it. Sweat beads began bursting from some of my pores, on my forehead, and soaking through my clothes as I realized what was in store. Automatically, I started to back away from Uncle Ben.
My Uncle wasted no time. He stepped forward, grabbed me by my solid left biceps, and walking me over to the oak bench that was alongside the wall. Then, he sat down and still holding onto my arm, hauled me across his lap like a sack of flour. I couldnt believe how strong he was. At first, I was so stunned I didnt know what to say. I just sort of followed my arm, and pleaded while being pulled, draped over his legs. Please, Uncle Ben, dont do this. There has to be another way to deal with this. Not this. I pleaded.
There isnt. Thats what Tom thought, too; but he found out – just like youre going to, Danny.
I landed with my head down on the floor, my face staring back up at my Uncle over my shoulder. I was given the order to stay in place right where I was, and he reached over and picked up the old, wooden paddle I had learned to so dread.
I could feel my face flush red with embarrassment and fear. I couldnt believe that this 19 year-old, college jock had gotten himself into another humiliating jam like this. I was now facing my own repercussions, and just the thought of them was taking all the starch out of me. I was a cold and clammy mess. I felt as if the blood had drained from my face and other extremities, and as if the bottom had dropped out of my world, on seeing my Uncle wielding that paddle. I knew I sure didnt want to experience another going over with that same paddle that had so conquered my backside just a year ago, while wearing a pair of running shorts.
I protested, No! No way! You cant. Im 19 – almost 20. Im a college student. Im too old for this.
Before I could think or speak any further, I heard the paddle whistle through the air and SMACK! My outer left butt cheeks nerves felt as if they had just been awakened out of a sound sleep. My cheek stung a lot, but I was bound and determined that I could handle it. SMACK! A second one arrived on the shiny fabric of the overturned seat of my basketball shorts – on the same area as the first! SMACK! Then a third. Whooooooaaaa! That third one was really beginning to burn and caused my cheek nerves to feel as if they were being lighted up with electrical current, like a Christmas tree. I grimaced and gritted my teeth, trying to hold on tough.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Oh, man! That last series had punished my cheeks and upper thighs where they meet the cheeks. Wow! Ow! Ooo-uh-ow! There was no way I wanted to admit to Uncle Ben that he was getting to his college nephew, – and so soon. After a very full swing, SMACK! The tenth shot arrived right where four of the other nine had landed, which just compounded and amplified all the previous shots. My butt cheeks and upper legs and thighs were already stinging more than this 19 year-old could lie still for.
The increasing stings of my Uncles repeated smacks with the paddle caused me instinctively to use a massive amount of energy, in order to try to flip over on my back and protect my smarting behind from more deliveries of the paddle, or to flip off his lap and get away, while I instinctively shifted my weight onto my left arm and raised my right hand and arm to shield my battered bottom. Uncle Ben stopped for only a second, grabbed my right arm, and yanked it up into my upper back, under my beater, effectively securing me across his knees in a painful vice-grip.
SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK!
He resumed the spanking, with a series of 19 more fiery smacks of the paddle against my smoldering rearend. He also continued lecturing me about how he had trusted me, taken my word, and I had proven to be dishonest and unreliable; how he expected better of me, just as he did his own son, and he knew my Dad did too; how the answer to this kind of behavior was exactly what it earned; how I was not too old to get the tanning that I had coming; and how this old paddle would get me back in line, just like it had in the past, – just like it had done to Tom.
That paddle had worked all too well on my nearly bare butt last year, and it was already penetrating my bottom and my brain, as he intensified the speed and force of another volley of 21 swats. I wasnt crying yet, but I was in a panic – and desperately closer to tears than I ever would have wanted to admit. I began writhing and twisting, trying to break loose and get away. It was futile, as Uncle Ben had me pinned over his lap, while he spanked my smoking bottom.
While I pleaded and yelled, he grabbed the baggy crotch of my basketball shorts and gave a solid yank. I felt the waistband of my shorts pass by my hips and butt, and slide down to my knees. Total panic seemed now to be settling in. I was dependent only on the protection of my thin white jock-brief that fit like skin. I wished I had remembered to bring some boxers along, but it was too late to think about that now.
Before my mind could fully comprehend the full gravity of my position, that paddle landed over and over again with a loud smacks to the same areas of my butt cheeks that it had been working on for the past few minutes. The paddle was just swinging and smacking, my butt, my upper thighs and inner thighs, the curved seat of my bottom, even the sides of my cheeks. Wow! I was nearly beside myself with the increased pain! Those basketball shorts had protected my bottom a bit more than I realized, and I was now missing them badly. My butt cheeks were really on fire! The difference between having my basketball shorts on, and now just underwear, made me feel as if I might have just been stripped bare.
I was kicking and bucking, as he relentlessly worked my bottom and thighs over with that horrible paddle. The next series of swats penetrated the form-fitting thin fabric of my jock-brief and raised hell with my butt cheeks. The last ones nailed my bare upper legs just below the elastic leg opening that rested in the crevice where they meets my butt. I again yelled out pleas and promises, as I squirmed and thrust, bouncing and rocking all over my Uncles lap – or as much as I could while captive in his strong hold. This time, however, my voice cracked with regularity as tears eked out from my eyes.
Just when I believed that this was the worst possible spanking a 19-year-old could get, it got worse. My uncle paused, reached down, grabbed the very stretchy waistband of my underpants, and pulled it along with the rest of my jock-brief rapidly to my ankles – to where I had kicked my basketball shorts. Those tight-fitting briefs now held my ankles fairly close together while my legs were trying to kick out and thrust in reaction to the blistering stings of the paddle against my butt.
He resumed smacking my cheeks again, and now I was bare and – boy! – was it nasty. I reacted by instinctively kicking as hard as I could, and Uncle Ben just wrenched my arm up backwards into my back, between my shoulder blades. Through my tears, I cried out in pain, as I quickly found that it was a position I could not move around or maneuver from. I realized how completely vulnerable I was at that point, as that hot paddle incessantly struck my already burning backside and legs.
There is not much left to say except that, as that paddle danced cheek to cheek and around all the curves of my now-bare butt – even with shots to the back of my upper legs, – the tears flowed like a waterfall and I screamed and bawled at the top of my 19 year-old lungs. My Uncle really got me bellowing when he began applying a number of shots to my lower inner cheeks. Boy are they sensitive! Every grunt and groan, grimace of my face, clenching of my jaws and gaping of my mouth, squinting and widening of my eyes, as each swat landed – and the resulting buildup of each swats sting – took its toll.
The scorching, all-consuming burning of my bottom caused me to kick my shoes, and then my shorts and jock-brief, off my feet. I shrieked and begged, promising, pleading, until, exhausted, I collapsed into wracking sobs and heaving gasps, choking and gagging through my bawling and wailing. And still the paddle continued connecting with my scorched bottom and thighs.
That paddle isnt overly heavy, and its lighter weight allows it to be down right maneuverable, as well as menacing. While it stung with agony, it didnt do much visible harm, except to turn my entire bottom and upper legs deep, dark, angry, hot red. I later found out it didnt leave bruises. The bite that it generated though was something that I could not have come close to imagining before – or even now after the fact, and I shudder even to think if I were to ever get it again like that.
You can believe I never want to tangle with that thing ever again, especially in that position. At 19 – almost 20 – I was certainly too old to cause myself to deserve such a working over. I also realized that that piece of wood will always be able to dish out more than I think I can handle, pants or no pants. I cant imagine being any older and deserving – and living through – such an experience again.
After the last of the fiery swats had landed, Uncle Ben sat there, letting me hang, dangling over his legs, while I sobbed and choked like a small child. For quite a few minutes I lay there sobbing, bawling, and feeling terribly sorry for myself. I was generally, down right humiliated. I finally calmed down enough to get myself off of his lap and onto my feet. Doubled over with still weeping pain, I was bouncing around with dancing, clutching my sizzled bottom.
Uncle Ben finally took hold of my arm and pulled me up to stand up straight. Put your clothes back on and come on out into the family room, he ordered. Uh-uh! Augh-uh! Okaaaaaay, Uncle Ben, aghaugh-uh! I wailed. He walked out and closed the door behind him, leaving me still squalling and jumping around. Eventually, I pulled my basketball shorts back on, but left off my tight jock-brief, as I felt it would only irritate my tender, throbbing butt. After rolling the briefs up and putting them under my arm, I hurried out of the room towards a bathroom, where I combed my disheveled red hair into order, did my best to wash up, to make my face look as close to normal as possible. My eyes, and face around my nose and eyes, were still very red.
When, I came out and walked stiffly into Uncle Bens family room, he and Aunt Mary, along with my cousin, Lydia, were sitting watching the news. They all had heard, and knew, what had happened to me. I was so embarrassed standing there – not at all how I had expected to act before them. All I could say to my Uncle was, Im sorry, really sorry, ah, I didnt mean for Tom, ah, . . . didnt realize, . . . didnt think . . .
Those I didnt think statements really struck a chord with Uncle Ben. I was then told emphatically, You bet you didnt think, boy, but youre going to do a lot of thinking now – and for quite a while afterwards! And you better – if you know whats good for you!
Ah, I know, ah, Uncle Ben, I stammered, as I stood there, head dejected, humiliated and silenced, eyeing my Uncle with dread, respect, fear, and sorrow. I couldnt think of anything else to say, except to mutter Im sorry again and again. I felt he had been overly tough on me, but I sure wasnt going to gamble about whether this was the time or place to say anything about that.
Uncle Ben told me Id better get going, as my folks would begin to worry about me. He suggested I go apologize to Tom before I left. Apologize?! I thought, Why apologize to him? But by then, I had no fight left in me. Besides, my Uncle was probably right. I walked toward Toms bedroom.
I spoke with Tom, who was still grounded in his bedroom. I did say I was sorry that I had not been more vigilant about watching his drinking, and that I hadnt avoided doing the same thing myself. He knew what had just happened to me by his Dad, and told me he was really sorry that I had to take such a fall for his foolish actions. He apologetically told me how he tried to talk his Dad out of disciplining me, but Uncle Ben had not been willing to listen to such requests – especially when he said I had asked for it, and had it coming, for my own bad behavior. We both knew we had screwed up and that our butts had paid dearly for it. We both realized also that pain, although severe, was only temporary; but our stupidity could have caused permanent sickness or permanent injury.
I left my uncles house and got back in the car, putting my briefs in the back seat with some of my other loose clothes. Although it was actually a little cool with just my beater and shorts on, I had all the warmth I needed radiating from my well-warmed tail and upper leg backs. I drove off, but drove to a food store parking lot and sat listening to some music on the radio while I tried to regain my composure before meeting my folks. I combed my hair again, and waited for the deep, red flush of my face to subside so my freckles were visible, and for my reddened eyes and nose dry out. After about an hour, I finished the drive home.
My parents had been waiting, and were beginning to get worried about me. They met me at the door, with all the normal greetings that a college boy could expect after being away. They noticed my red eyes, but I was easily able to pass them off as caused by late nights of studying, a long drive, and being just plain tired.
When asked about my grades, I was eager to tell them truthfully that they were even better than the fall semester. My Dad responded with good job, a friendly arm around my shoulders, and a firm swat on the seat of my still warm and irritated butt. Man, that one swat set off my inner alarm bells! Only my basketball shorts were between my Dads hand and my tender, raw bottom. The thought crossed my mind if maybe my Dad had noticed how warm my butt was. I decided that I needed to keep a long pair of shorts on so that my tender, red butt and upper leg backs did not show.
I was tired and worn out, and decided to leave the unpacking of the car until the next day. After eating supper, it didnt take me long to get done what was needed before I hit the sack. In my room, I closed the door and pulled down my shorts at once to see my butt and leg backs. They were definitely deeply red and very warm, but not bruised. I decided that it was in my best interest to keep the red areas covered, but with something softer. I changed into a pair of thin, cotton knit shorts. They were snug in the waist but long and loose enough to cover my upper legs, yet comfortable enough to allow my sensitive skin a little breathing room. Little did I know that they would be no protection against what was still in store. I turned out the lights, slipped into the sheets and quickly collapsed into sleep.
I did not hear the telephone ring in the early morning. My Dad answered it, and spoke with his brother, Uncle Ben. Hes sleeping right now. He should? Why? What did he do? What?! No way! He knows better than to do that! Ill tan that little brats behind so he wont sit comfortably all summer! You did?! When?! No kidding. Well, theres second helping coming here – you can count on it. Well be over to see you and Mary next Sunday. Bye, now.
I didnt hear my fathers solid strides up the stairs and into my bedroom. Suddenly, I was stirred from my coma-like sleep by a voice and feeling the comforter and sheet being pulled off me. Dad quickly sat down on the side of the bed, reached over and grabbed me as I reached for the blanket and sheet, and hauled me up, off the mattress, dragging me across his lap. I turned to look backwards over my shoulder and saw him with the old, oak hairbrush in his right hand, as I lay sprawled, upended across his lap. What was he doing here? What was happening to me?
SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK!
Oh! Ow! Ow! Oh! Ow! A sudden volley of hard smacks descended on the thin seat of my cotton shorts. Then another and another. SMACKSMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACK!
Whewwwww! The sharp shocks to my rearend were also jolting my senses. At once I began huffing and grunting under the continuing barrage, as I squirmed and twisted all over my fathers lap. My behind was already raw and throbbing, as he pummeled my backside over and over with that hot, branding hairbrush.
Wait, Dad! I called out with shortness of breath. Dont dooooo this! Stop it! Please! Dad! Dad! Why, Dad? Why?!
SMACKSMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACK!
Without any letup in the battery of whacks with the hairbrush, Dad answered my desperate, pleading and questioning. Why, Danny? What happened 3 weeks ago that you have conveniently kept concealed? What happened last night, at Uncle Bens?
Oh, oh. I was furious to find myself placed in the same situation – only worse – as I had gotten only hours ago by my Uncle – and all because of the same situation! Ooooo-aaaa-ow! Besides this despicable outrage to my pride, my agonizing, wounded butt was being insulted over and over by that smacking hairbrush. I spoke up in despair. Dad, you dont understand! I can-uuumaaummph! Uh-explain-uh-aughumph! And-uh--besides-Ow! Uh-uh-Uncle-uh-unnaughummph! Ow-ow! Uncle-uh-uh! Ben-uh! Ow! Uh-uh-unnngggghummmphaaa! Ow-ow-ow! . . .
Instinctively, I began kicking and bucking under the assault on my sore, aching bottom, and I thrust my right hand back to cover it. Dads powerful left arm grabbed my wrist and wrenched my arm up onto my bare back, locking me in position across his lap. Wow! Even though I was in great condition from regular workouts, he was so much stronger than I was!
SMACKSMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACK!
Dad kept up the torrent of the hairbrush striking over and over against my burning bottom and upper legs. Uncle Ben did what, Danny?! Gave you a first dose of discipline for your behavior?! Is that what youre trying to say?!
SMACKSMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK!
Ow! Augh-uh-uh-yes-uh! He did-uh!
Dad bounced and shifted me over his knees, so that my eyes were staring only inches from the floor, my bottom was elevated and aimed, and my bare feet scarcely touched the floor. Well, good for him! You had every bit of it coming, young man! Underage drinking, and driving! Allowing and encouraging your cousin to do the same! Then pot-smoking in your dorm! Well, youve earned every bit of what youre getting today too!
SMACKSMACKSMACK! SMAACK! SMAACK! SMAACK! SMAACK! SMAACK! SMACKSMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK! SMAAACK!
With his right hand, my father instantly yanked my thin, cotton shorts down over my buttocks, down my thighs, past my knees to catch at my ankles, baring my visibly reddened behind. With his left arm, he grabbed me around the waist, pushing down on my back.
"Waaaaa-uh-aaaait-uh-uh! Nooooooo! Uh-uh-ahrrghhaa-uh-noooooooooaaaaa! What are you DOING?!" I gasped, shouted, and demanded. Dad swiftly juggled me further across his knees, sliding my head, shoulders, and arms down towards the floor, and lifting my feet off the floor and my bottom up at an angle aimed for even more spanking.
Oh-oh! Wow! Oh-ah-oh, man! This was too much! I had already been spanked soundly only a few hours ago, and I remembered instantly what the faster, harder spanks on my bare backside would feel like. This was so hot, and hurting, and stinging! I felt myself moaning and breathing hard – near gasping – trying to control my emotions, trying to hold back frenzied wailing, and keep calm. But I couldn't do it.
SMACKSMACKSMACK! SMAACK! SMAACK! SMAACK! SMAACK! SMAACK! SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK! SMAAACK!
The long, swift, volley from the brush shocked my brain. With last night's whipping fresh, and my butt already seared, my tears and crying began permeating immediately. My bottom was far more sensitive at once from the spanking my Uncle had administered to me last night – and maybe also because of the dread of the punishment in my brain. My rearend was igniting, burning, blazing! Right away, I was kicking and bucking, thrashing and pushing, twisting and sliding, bouncing and thrusting – trying to avoid the unrelenting bites of the hairbrush. I squirmed and wriggled, pushed and bumped under the constant, inferno of my father's spanks.
"Ah-uh-Dad! Stopit! Owwchaaaa! Stopit, Dad! Ooooo-ah Stop! OwowowowOW! P-please STOP! Ooooo-aaaa-owowoweee! N-nooooo! Oooooooo-uh-ah p-please! Uh! Aieeyowowow! Uh–uh-oooooooo-ah! N-no-no-no-no-nooooooooo! Aaaaaaa-ugah-uh!"
SMACKSMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK!
Youre underage and have no business buying or drinking beer – and then getting out in the car. And getting your cousin involved with you! Im really resisting taking the car away from you, Daniel! But, one thing, for sure, youre grounded for the entire summer, mister.
Awww-uh-uh-hrrraugh-uh! Daaaad! Ooo-uh-aww-uh-nooooo! Daaaad! Uh-uh!
SMACKSMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK!
You heard me. Youve got yourself to thank for all of this, Daniel! Ben says you promised him youd behave and see to that Tom did too. Instead, you both acted like you were hell bent on getting in trouble! Well, you are in trouble, young man – as your rearend can tell! Anytime you get outta line, or get in trouble, you can count on being taken to the woodshed and getting your behind blistered. Thats true with me, or with Uncle Ben, Daniel. You get in trouble with him, youll be in worse trouble with me!
And thats not just while youre here this summer, you man. It also applies when you go back to college. Cause if Uncle Ben or I – either one of us – hear that you have been acting outta line, or getting in trouble, one of us will make the 3-hour drive to deliver an unforgettable reminder to your brain by the board of education to your backside! Am I getting through to you, Daniel?!
Yeeeowowow! Aaugh-uh–uh-yesss-uh-Daaaad! Ow-uh! Oooo-uh-uh! P-pleeez! Uh! Stop! Aieeeyow! Aaugh-uh-uh! It's-uh-uh-h-hurrrt-uh-uh-uh-eeeeeng! Ooooo-uh-uh! Owowow-uh-OW! Oooooo-uh! It's-uh-uh-uh-uh-HURRRRTING! Oooooooo-augh-uh-uh! Daaad! Ooooo! Its-uh-hurrrrrting-uh-uh-sooo-uh-baaaad! Oooo-uh-aaa-uh-uh! Waaaaaaaaa!
Incredibly, Dad only intensified the pommeling. That hairbrush danced all over my butt, my thighs were they meet my bottom, the inside of my thighs, and the inside of my buttocks against my scrotum and anus. I couldnt believe he was doing this to me – at 19 and in college! I was beside myself from the excruciating pain! Feeling again and again like I was going to be launched or catapulted off his lap, I felt his grip keep me tightly in position, and recurrently settle me down, only to be incited over and over by the smacks of the brush.
In kicking and thrusting my legs, bucking and bouncing on Dad's lap, twisting, writhing, and thrashing, trying to escape the relentless spanking, my shorts flew off my flailing legs. Dad meant business, and in quick time, my resolve collapsed. My head jerked up, and my body arched backwards, stiffening, and I began screaming, begging, pleading, amidst a flood of choking, gagging gasps and sobs that burst forth from my throat and eyes. I succumbed, wailing and howling, bawling and sobbing, shrieking and lurching with each new smart to my blistered bottom.
"Aieeyaugh-uh-uh-p-please! Aw-uh-uh! Oh, please! Owowowow! Aaaguh-uh-uh! Ow! N-nooooooo-uh-uh-MOOOOR! Uh-uh! P-pleeez! Ooooo-uh-uh-nuh-uh-noooooooo! Uh-uh! Stop! I'll-be-good! Uh! Owowoooo-uh-ooooo-ah-ah-yoww! Uh-uh-ummmah-ah-uh! Yoweeee! I'll-be-good! Dadeeee! I'll-be-GOOD! Uh-uh-uh! Ooooo-uh-uh! Daaadeeee! Uh-uh! Daaaad-uh-uh-uh-uh-DEEEEE! Aughuh-uh! Stop! Ooooooaaa! Haugh-uh! Uhuh-uh! Ooooo-uh-haugh-uh-uh! Awaaaa! Waaaaa! Waaaaa! Uh-uh-aw-uh-waaaaa! Waaaaaa! Uh-uh-waaaaaa! Uh-noooo-uh-waaaaaaa! Uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-waaaaaaa!"
I couldn't speak any longer. My father was raining, pouring incessant spanks down all over my backside and upper thighs. I no longer could find the strength to try to fight or resist, much less plead, beg, or shout. I simply lay hanging over my father's knees, gasping, shaking, shuddering, sobbing, and jolting across his lap each time another spank scorched my fiery bottom. When he finally stopped, Dad let me hang, dangling across his knees, heaving and shuddering through sobs.
I dont know how long I lay dangling across his lap until my sobbing began to subside somewhat. Dad then reached down and pulled me up, off his lap, and stood me straight in front of him in an unmistakeably harsh manner. He spoke softly, sternly, and firmly. I stood sobbing, doubled over before my father, wobbly and clasping my battered behind with my hands.
Grabbing my neck, Dad marched me out of my bedroom, across and down the hall into the bathroom. 'You have 10 minutes to shower, get yourself dressed and down to the kitchen, young man. Thats all the waiting I intend to do. If youre longer, Im coming in to get you, and youll be back in place for another session with this hairbrush. Do you understand me, young man? Im through talking with you.
Uh-uh-oh-uh, y-yes. Yes, sir. Please-uh-uh!. Ill-uh! d-do it-uh! Ill do it!
I stepped stiffly into the shower to clean up, vowing never to have to undergo this again. I broke down into more sobs as the water washed over me, but I raced, still gasping and sobbing, through a rapid shower, superficially shaving, brushing teeth, shampooing hair. Then I scurried out of the shower, back to my bedroom, and almost jumped in my boxers, a pair of basketball shorts, and a t-shirt. Woodenly, but quickly, I hobbled down the stairs to the kitchen.
There, my Dad was waiting for me. After I hate a hurried breakfast standing at the counter, he told me to unpack my car and put my things away in my room. Then he said, And make sure you put everything away, Danny. I dont want your mother telling me your room is a mess because you were too lazy to put things away. I nodded yes.
Oh, yeah, and take off those basketball shorts and put on some jeans or jeans shorts. Youre home for the summer, now, boy! Goofing off and playing around are through! Ive got work for you out in the barn. See that you come out there as soon as youre finished in your room.
Okay, Dad. I will. I said in a softer, muffled voice.
The rest of the summer I was on high-alert, extra-good behavior. I worked hard for my Dad at the farm and tried hard to please him. Every week, instead of paying me, he would put money into a bank account for me to have for college in the fall. Not a hint of trouble could be found around me.
Except, in early July. A letter, addressed to me, arrived from the States Automobile Office. I was working out in the barn when my father strode forcefully in carrying the envelope – already opened –, the speeding ticket that Id gotten back in late May, my fake ID, and my car keys. Dad had opened the letter at once, to see what it might be about. When he read that my drivers license was suspended because I hadnt paid a speeding ticket, he was provoked. He has a duplicate key to my car, and went out and searched through it, finding the ticket in the glove box where I had stashed it and forgotten about it. Then he went straight to my room, picked up my wallet and found the fake ID in it, which he confiscated along with my car keys.
Whats the meaning of all this, young man?! he demanded in a sharp, crisp tone.
What is it, Dad? I asked unsuspectingly.
You can see for yourself, Daniel. Youre drivers license has been suspend for about 10 days now, because you didnt pay this speeding ticket! He tossed them both at me. 27 miles over the speed limit! $285! $55 more to get your license reinstated! Ill show you some speed in firing up your butt, young man! I could tell he was really steamed. And you hid the ticket, thinking you could misbehave and get away with it! Just like with Tom! And this fake ID! How long have you had that, Danny?! Theres only one reason you have that – to get things and go places where you arent legally allowed! Well, youre about to relearn some lesson, young man!
Oh, oh! The bottom fell out of my stomach, as Dad walked up to me, took the shovel out of my hands, and placed the vice-like grip of his huge hand around the back of my neck. Pushing and guiding me, he walked me towards the back of the barn – where Id been taken so many times over the years to be taught lessons by having my bare bottom tanned. I gulped twice, and automatically began shallow, rapid breaths of nervousness and anxiety. I tried briefly to resist my father, pushing back against his propelling grip, but he only exchanged it for other hand, while he landed several, thunderous swats crashing against the seat of my jeans shorts. WHAUMP! WHAUMP! WHAUMP! WHAUMP! WHAUMPWHAUMPWHAUMPWHAUMPWHAUMP!
I began whining and pleading right away. Wait, Dad. Stop. I can explain. I forgot about the ticket. Ill pay it. Ill pay it. Im sorry, Dad. The ID was a mistake. Im really sorry.
You bet it was a mistake, Danny, and youre going to be sorry – real soon, and real sorry, was all Dad said. We reached the northwest corner of the barn, where an old milking stool stood alongside the wall, with an old, dark, leather strap hanging on a hook. Dad wasted no time. He took the strap down from the hook, then turned to stare me straight in the eyes. I could feel strong tears flooding my eyes, and I swallowed hard and blinked to force them back. Dad just reached out, unbuckled my belt, unsnapped and unzipped my jeans shorts, and yanked them down to my feet. I bemoaned that it was necessary for him to do this, all the while standing there in just my dirty t-shirt and boxers. Saying nothing in reply, he reached down and pulled the stool under him, and sat down.
Instantly, he pulled me down and over his lap. Even though I knew what was coming, I was still unprepared for being dragged off my feet and draped across my fathers lap so low to the ground. My face was against the dirty, straw-strewn, barn floor. My legs stretched out at the other end. Dad kept my head and upper back pushed down with his left arm, while he began pelting the thin seat of my boxers with that thick, menacing strap. CRAACK! CRAACK! CRAACK! CRAACK! CRAACK!
I exhaled and gasped, alternately, grunting and groaning against the assault on my thinly clad behind. After a very few minutes of this, my bottom was heating up swiftly. I began squirming and wriggling, at first, then twisting and thrashing around across my fathers lap and the around the barn floor.
Without further ado, he grasped the waistband of my boxers and snatched them down over my buttocks, legs, knees, to join my tangled jeans shorts at my feet. My right arm flew back to protect my bare posterior, as I choked on my gasped protests. Noooooo-uh-Daaaad! Not this again! Not this again! Not thissssss! Noooooooooo!
CRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACK! CRACKCRACKCRACKCRACK!
He grabbed my right arm and twisted it up and back into my upper back, then resumed the attack of the strap on my exposed butt. I bounced and bucked, kicked and thrust my legs as much as they could move wrapped in my shorts and boxers. As he trounced my blazing bottom, he announced: Youll pay that ticket right away, young man. But you can forget about getting your drivers license back until January, cause youre not going to have the car before the spring semester at the earliest.
I was already at the point of crumbling and collapse from the blistering pain on my bottom and upper legs, and the humiliating shame, at almost 20, of being whipped by my father like an 8 year-old. With that decree, though, I was utterly and bitterly defeated. My back arched upward, and then collapsed as I broke down into bawling, squalling, gagging sobs and shrieks. I tried to beg and plead, promise and negotiate, but my father was unmoved. It was not up for discussion or negotiation. He continued striking my now-raw rearend with that fiery, biting strap, saying only, You heard me, Danny. No car, and no driving til January.
Oh how I wailed! – against what he was decreeing, and against what he was administering to my hot, hind-end! But I was once again helplessly and futilely struggling against what was inevitable not only now, but for the coming 6 months! I couldnt speak anymore, as my sobbing and gagging overwhelmed my consciousness. I was defeated once again.
When it was over, Dad sat there, quietly letting me sob out my pain and shame. In a bit, my weeping subsided to whimpers and soft crying. Then, Dad helped me scramble off his lap, but I was dancing around on one foot, then another, grasping my scorched bottom. He walked over to me, clasped my shoulder tightly, quieting me down for a moment. Put your clothes back on, Danny. Then return to your work and finish it. After that, come on back up to the house, shower and get your night clothes on. Youre going straight to bed for the night! he pronounced more punishment. I was 19 – almost 20 – and a college student, and now this! Treated like a 10 year-old! How much was he going to pile on me?!
Awwww-uh-Daaaad! I began to wail again. Dad instantly spun me around and smacked my bare, blistered bottom several times with his monstrously big, granite hand. Oookaaaay! Ill do it! Ill do what you say! Daaaad! Ill do it! He stood there, silently watching me pull my clothes gingerly up over my battered bottom. Then, he walked me back to where he had come in, picked up the shovel, and handed it back to me. I took it, looked away, and immediately began scooping up more straw and muck. That night, I was in bed by 7:30, muffling my tears until shortly after 8 when I was asleep. In the morning, I was awakened by Dads routine call at 6 a. m., and got up quickly, if stiffly, to get going, helping him for the day.
The rest of the summer flew by, spent in long hours of hard work on the family farm, with occasional visits to my Aunt Mary and Uncle Ben. Since I was grounded for the summer, I was glad for a chance to get away from my folks farm and visit my cousin, Tom, even if he was almost 2 ½ years younger. I stayed out of any trouble, with my Dad and my Uncle until the weekend before I was to go back to college. My Uncle Ben knew that my Dad had grounded me for the summer, and he called and asked my Dad if I could come and spend this last weekend before I went back to college with my cousin, Tom. Dad agreed, and Tom stopped by in his family car about 6:30 Friday evening, to pick me up to go over to his house.
I was surprised, but kind of excited, that Dad allowed me to do this. All summer long, whenever any of my friends called – or even stopped by – I always had to make some excuse why I couldnt meet them or go with them. My roommate, Chad, had called to tell me he had gotten a new truck, and wanted me to come over and celebrate with him. I told him that I was really excited for him, but we had family plans that I had to be there for. Id get by soon to see it, I lied, knowing I was glued to the farm for the whole summer!
Anyway, I was really starved for the company of young people – even if my cousin was 2 ½ years younger. I pulled on an orange t-shirt and a pair of navy basketball shorts with orange and white marking. Then I packed up some clothes and toiletries for the weekend, put them in the car, and got in to ride with Tom. As we were pulling out of the long drive from the farm, I suggested to Tom that we stop by the house of my college roommate, Chad. It was out of the way by about 50 minutes, but I was dying to talk to him, see his new truck, and make plans for the fall semester that was starting Thursday of this coming week. Although Tom looked kind of uneasy, basically he did what I asked.
About 55 minutes later, we were at Chads house. He was getting ready to go out, but sat and talked with us for a while. When he got up and said he had to go, he asked why Tom and I didnt go with him. He was going to a party at some guys apartment in the town just past where he lived. It was another 45 minutes away. I knew we shouldnt do it. Even Tom said, I dont think so; but when Chad pressured, I caved in and said, Okay, but only for a little while.
At 9:30, Uncle Ben called my Dad to ask if there was something wrong, if I wasnt going to be able to spend the weekend at their house. Dad was caught off guard and asked what he was talking about. He told Uncle Ben we had left around 6:45 to go there. First Uncle Ben expressed his concern and irritation that we were both missing. He said he had thought about driving Tom over to get me, but had given Tom the benefit of trust – which now it looked like wasnt deserved. Then, he told my Dad that it seems when those two boys get together, they cant seem to behave.
Dad retorted that there had better be some very good reason to explain this or my hide was going to be scalded. He suggested calling the county sheriff, to be on the lookout for us. Uncle Ben said hed give us until 10 p. m., before he went to that length. Dad told his brother to be sure to let him know when we arrived, and what had happened.
It was almost midnight when it dawned on me that Tom and I were MIAs. In the meanwhile, these same two, underage guys had consumed several beers, eaten pizza and wings, and were way-too-relaxed for our own good. I went to Chad and told him that we needed to leave, that my cousin who is still in high school had to get home. He was not really happy about having to leave the party because of us, but when I pressed him that my cousin would really be in trouble, he finally acceded. We arrived back at Chads house at nearly 1 a. m., and my cousin and I got in his car to drive to his house at Uncle Bens farm. Tom was really sleepy, probably from too much beer, so I offered to drive us home. He didnt know I didnt have a drivers license anymore.
About 20 minutes from Uncle Bens farm, a sheriffs cruiser pulled up behind us, set off his flashers, and signaled us to pull over. I did, and waited for him to come to the window. May I see your drivers license and registration, please? he asked. All at once, I felt sick. My drivers license was suspended, I knew. As I stalled getting it, I spoke up, This is my cousins parents car, deputy. He was just sleepy, so I decided to drive for safety. But his parents have the registration. I made it sound like I was being so cautious and helpful.
He took my license, then peered intently into my eyes. You boys been drinkin? he asked. I knew I couldnt deny it, so I gave the cliche, just a couple of beers, sir. Were headed to Toms house right away, I tried to excuse our conditions.
He looked at the drivers license, and then asked Tom if he had one too. Tom fumbled around trying to get is wallet out and handed over his drivers license. It was obvious that he was impaired. You boys stay right here. Ill be back in a few minutes, the deputy ordered, then returned to his vehicle. Not more than 7 minutes later, he returned.
Youre the Bradley boys, arent you? he asked. We have missing persons reports on both of you, he informed us. My eyes widened as I realized what that meant: either my Dad or Uncle Ben had called the sheriff because we were missing. You dont have a valid operators license, youngster, he addressed me. Its been suspended for over 2 months now. And both you boys are in no condition to be out on the streets anyway – especially him, the only lawful, licensed driver. Im going to have to take you both in to the substation. Well call your parents from there. Get out of the car, lock it up, and walk ahead of me to the cruiser. Ill put you both in the back, he directed.
Now I was really sick. Caught without a valid license; arrested; my Uncle – and probably Dad – notified. How bad could it get?! I would soon find out. We locked the car, and I helped Tom stagger to the sheriffs vehicle. The deputy opened the back door, pushed us both in, then closed it; and we were locked in the back of the cruiser. At the substation, a field sobriety test was conducted, which both Tom and I flunked. We were sitting together in a holding cell, when the next thing I knew, Uncle Ben appeared.
So this is where you both end up? You boys have some lessons to absorb and to learn! he exclaimed somberly. The deputy had called both my Uncle and my Dad; but my Uncle called my Dad just after he hung up from the deputy. Uncle Ben convinced my Dad to let him pick us both up and deal with us. I didnt know that, so when my Uncle appeared, I was looking next, with dread, for my Dad.
The deputy wrote up an incident report, issued me a ticket for driving without a valid license, and then released us both to my Uncle. Uncle Ben returned to our cell, barking at both of us to get up and come with him. I started to say something about waiting for my Dad when Uncle Ben turned around, and with eyes flashing fierce, but tempered, anger, barked, Get up and get yourself over here right now, Danny, if you know whats good for you. Youre definitely in need of some lessons in listening and following directions. Unless you want the first of them right here, you better come with me right away. I got up right away and followed him and Tom out without speaking.
We piled into Uncle Bens truck together, me crowded between him and Tom. He drove in silence back to the farm. It was around 3 a. m. by this time. The effects of the hour, a previous day of hard work, and too many beers, made me very tired. Tom was still drifting in and out of sleep. When we piled out of Uncle Bens truck, he stopped us both. You boys come with me, he directed, and grabbed each of us by an arm, guiding us forcefully past the house off towards one of his barns. Even in his sleepy stupor, Tom realized where he was being taken, and what it meant.
Dad, Dad. Im sorry. I can explain. Ill tell you the truth. Honest, Dad. I will. he tried to evade the pending punishment. Instead, Uncle Ben kept escorting us both to, and then into, the barn. It was surprisingly a lot like our barn at my Dads farm. Instead of going to the back, though, he had us sit down on bales of hay, while he went over and got another, older and thicker wooden paddle from the wall.
Now, Tom, this is the first of several lessons youve earned for yourself by tonights behavior. Get your pants down and get over here now, he ordered. Tom began to beg and plead, even as tears and squalling started tumbling from his eyes and mouth. He knew what was in store. Uncle ben sat down on an old backless bench, and waited for his son to come over. In the meanwhile, he looked straight at me and said, You pay close attention, Danny, cause everything Tom is getting youve got coming too.
Then, he almost ripped Toms boxers off his butt and down his legs to his feet, before sliding the tall, high school senior across his knees. He didnt wait for Tom to try to protect his bare, accessible behind, but grabbed the boys right arm, wrenching it up backwards between his shoulder blades. Then the relentless, rhythmic smack of the paddle hit every inch of Toms buttocks, inner and outer, and thighs and upper legs, inner and outer, until he was shrieking and wailing with pain, shame, and fear. When Uncle Ben stopped, Tom was a totally defeated, submissive kid, bawling and dancing around while he tried to dampen the inferno on his behind. All the time I sat there wide-eyed, miserable, and letting go with choking tears. Though terrified of what was impending, I felt so demeaned like a little kid.
I was next, and Uncle Ben did not delay ordering me to do exactly as Tom had done. Nor did I delay in doing so, as much as I cringed at the thought of what I was going to suffer and the humiliation of getting it again, at my age, from my Uncle. If anything, he was even rougher with me. He jerked me across his lap like I was being dragged over a chute. My right arm, too, was secured tightly to control me in place, and he released the longest, hardest, fastest barrage of licks from that paddle that I could ever have imagined. In far less time than Tom, I succumbed to sobbing, wailing, gagging, heaving, while involuntarily kicking, bucking, twisting, and bouncing around on Uncle Bens lap.
When my whipping was over, we were both standing, bouncing boyishly up and down and around, trying to soothe the agony of our torched behinds. When we finally quieted down to whimpering and crying, Uncle Ben pronounced our fates. This was for disobeying, boys. Tomorrow morning, youre both going to get another one for underage drinking – and since weve been around this one before, youll both get an encore tomorrow night.
I felt like a condemned prisoner when he addressed me directly. You – as you know, Danny – have been grounded by your Dad; but Im going to blister your behind again Sunday morning for getting your cousin to help you violate your Dads orders.
But, Uncle Ben! You cant . . . I began.
Be quiet, boy. Youll see exactly what I can do, and maybe youll finally learn some lessons through your backside in the process. Whats this about you not having a valid drivers license?! Youre getting another blistering Sunday night for taking over the wheel of our car when you know you dont have a license or any right to drive! Am I starting to get through to you, young man?!
Oooo-aaa-uh-uh-y-yes, sir, I stammered. Was he ever! I couldnt believe it. Then I shuddered, remembering what my Dad had said:You get in trouble with [Uncle Ben], youll be in worse trouble with me!
Uncle Ben announced to Tom that he would be getting another trip to the woodshed on Sunday morning, along with me, for acquiescing in my influence to help me disobey my father; and another one with me Sunday night, for allowing me to drive the car when I didnt have a license. Tom started to object that he didnt know, but Uncle Ben silenced him by saying, If you hadnt been so stinkin drunk, young man, youd have been able to drive yourself. Youll join your cousin in another spanking Sunday night.
While we both wailed some more, we said nothing more, although we both felt so juvenile and disgraced by Uncle Bens punishment agenda for us. We were hustled back to the house, and into bed in Toms room. At 10 a. m., Uncle Ben woke us, took us both to the bathroom, and brought us back to Toms room, where successively he administered severe thrashings with the small, light paddle to our overturned, bare, already-battered butts. We wailed and screamed almost immediately, and continuously. Afterward, he sent us back to the bathroom to shower, and return dressed. All day long he worked us strenuously on the farm, and we were quiet.
That night, after more showers and a hardy supper, he took us both back to the barn, where we got another taste of unrestrained lashes from the old, heavy, wooden paddle. Neither one of us could sit down much, and he took us back up to Toms room, waiting until we both we in bed, before shutting off the light, telling us to be quiet, and closing the door. We whimpered and whispered commiseration to each other for a while, and then dropped off to sleep.
Sunday morning found us both back over Uncle Bens knees, being spanked harshly with the small paddle – me for disobeying and getting my cousin to help me; him, for going along with me. Sitting in church Sunday morning was such torture, it was nearly impossible; but Uncle Ben had told us both before we left the house to sit quiet and behave, our hed have us back across his lap outside in the churchyard. Believe me, I didnt doubt him for one minute.
Sunday afternoon, we swam in the small lake on Uncle Bens farm, which was like cooling balm to our ignited butts. But Sunday night, we were again back in the barn, our upended, raw, bare bottoms being devoured by the striking bites of the heavy wooden paddle. This one, as he reminded us, was for me driving their car without a valid license, and for Tom being too drunk to know better. After these many spankings from Uncle Ben, we both broke down in to flailing, wailing sobs as soon as the first smack of the paddle made contact with our ravaged rearends. Afterwards, we were two, wounded, humbled young men.
Monday morning, Uncle Ben drove me back to my parents farm. He told my Dad exactly what had happened, and what he had done, which evoked only my fathers strong approval. That afternoon, I got another spanking with the dreaded hairbrush, for disobeying my father; and that night, another one for enlisting my cousin in helping me defy my Dads orders. I couldnt believe it, only a couple of weeks from being 20, and a few days from returning to college! I really thought I was going to die, and be buried without a butt!
Tuesday morning, first thing, Dad administered another one for more underage drinking; and then again Tuesday night, for repeated underage drinking and driving. He started out Wednesday morning with another blistering with the hairbrush, for driving when I knew I didnt have a valid license; and Wednesday night, the hairbrush taught me the penalty at home for getting another ticket because of driving without a valid license. I was an utterly disgraced and humiliated, not to mention agonizingly spanked beyond thinking or imagining, young college student of almost 20!
Thursday morning, at 6:30 a. m., Dad administered a final blistering with the hairbrush – a reminder (as he said) to me of what to expect, what lay in store, if I misbehaved or got in trouble again anywhere, including college. I could hardly even scream, as I sobbed from the moment he hauled me over his knees, and afterwards in the shower as the water drowned out my crying. At 11:30 a. m., with my Wrangler packed with all my belongings, but Dad driving, we left for the 3-hour drive back to college.
I brought along a pillow to sit on in the car, as I couldnt bear to rest my battered bottom against any surface. My tearful face had disappeared, although my eyes remained reddened from bawling so much and so hard over the past 7 days. Not only was I going back to college without a car, and without a drivers license, and everyone would see my Dad take my car back home; but I was starting out my sophomore year of college with a freshly, excruciatingly, and repeatedly spanked bottom like a disobedient, small boy.
When Dad and I had carried all my things into the dorm-suite that Chad and I would be sharing, he arrived. Later, my Dad hugged me, tousled my red hair, told me he loved me and was proud of me, and admonished me to behave and be good, before leaving and driving the Wrangler back home to the farm. Chad asked me what had happened, why I didnt have the car? I told him my Dad needed it back home for awhile and that I understood that. Are you gonna be without a car all semester? he asked.
I dunno, I lied, it might just be that long.
Well, dont worry, buddy. Ill drive you where you need to go. We got the new truck, remember? Chad reassured me. I was really grateful for a good friend like him, but there was no way I was going to tell him what Id been through all summer – and especially the last week – from my Dad and Uncle. Boy, this was sure going to be a different, much humbler year of college for me!