When I was growing up, I was severely spanked for infractions both minor (letting the screen door slam when I went out) and not so minor (getting drunk in high school). Dad would spank me 3 or 4 times a week. Particularly if he had been drinking, he would find an excuse to warm my ass. The spankings were always with me stripped completely, and lasted until I moved out of the house.
Sam and I were best friends and both 17 at the time. It was the summer between our junior and senior years in high school. Our dads were best friends, worked together, drank together and our families spent a great deal of time together. We both knew that each other got spanked. Our dads would joke about blistering our butts to each other in front of us. This particular Saturday began early. Sam's dad wanted to replace the chain link fence around their house. My dad volunteered that he and I would help with this. The week before this spanking, we had spent both Saturday and Sunday digging the old posts out and setting the new posts. Because there was a lot to do and since we both worked very hard, nothing happened that day.
On this day, the following Saturday, we were pulling the fence fabric and putting up the gates. This went well, so well in fact that our dads went inside about 10 am to have a beer and let Sam and I finish up the job. We got done about 1pm and went inside to have lunch. There were several empties on the table, so Sam and I were leery of what might happen. We offered to fix lunch for all of us. This went without incident. We cleaned up the dishes and were about to leave when Sam's dad said that they were out of beer. My dad suggested that we all go to our house. Sam and I asked if we could go to a movie. Dad said we should come over to our house and spend the time there.
Sam and I spent the next couple of hours playing cards. About 4pm, we got tired of this and went out into the front yard to throw the football. It was windy. We stood so that we would throw across the front of the house. The wind was a cross wind with some gusts, so we had to pay attention to get the ball to the other one. About 10 minutes into our game of catch, Sam went to throw the ball. It went straight for a window and broke the storm window. We both knew we were in for it.
Both of our dads came running out of the house as fast as their drunken state would allow. Sam readily admitted it was his fault. His dad screamed, "You _f_u_c_k_ up, you should have known better than to throw that ball into the window." My dad said, "What the _f_u_c_k_ do you think you were up to." Sam's dad, turning to mine said, "Sam needs a good whipping, mind if I use your basement and your strap?" My dad said, "Well, Paul was just as much at fault, he deserves a whipping too, we might as well whip their sorry asses together." We were ordered to "march" to the basement, being cussed at all the way.
In our basement, we had an area where all of my spankings were delivered. Dad had taken a work bench and covered it with carpet. It was sturdy and right at waist height. He had put a set of wrist cuffs at each end, so my hands would be held down and my arms outstretched when I bent over the table. He also had a pair of leg cuffs attached to the front so that I would be held firmly in place while he administered the whippings. Over the table he hung his implements of pain. He had a wooden fraternity style paddle with ½ inch holes drilled in it. He had a razor strap which he had gotten from the barber, he hung two belts, a narrow ¾ in one and a wide one, 2 inches wide. He also had a riding crop and a cane. His favorite was the razor strap, though he usually used two or three different implements in any one session.
When we went to the basement, we were both ordered to strip, which we did in silence. Our dads discussed whether we should be spanked at the same time, or one following the other. Sam's dad suggested that since we were playing catch together, we should be spanked together. In fact, he said that they should have a contest to see who could get their son to cry first and which boy could take the most. Sam and I just looked at each other knowing that this would be one of the worst spankings of our lives. Dad took the leg straps off and screwed them into the bench next to the arm straps that were already there. They then put Sam in one set and me in the other so that we were bent over the bench right next to each other. Sam's dad chose the riding crop to start with, my dad chose the strap.
Our dads timed their first stroke to hit at the same time. CRACK. It hit with full force. Both of us let our a scream. The blows continued in a flurry. Both of us were crying by time the 10th had hit our asses. The whipping continued. After about 10 minutes, they stopped to change instruments. I got the fraternity paddle, Sam got the strap. Both of us were sobbing uncontrollably. The whippings then continued. After a few more minutes, they changed again, each grabbing a belt. After some more time, they changed again. However this time, it was to the cane for both of us. We each got 20 lashes of the cane, 10 from each dad. Nothing had ever hurt so bad. Sam passed out from the pain. I was screaming.
When the lashes ended, dad undid our wrists and we both collapsed onto the floor. The dads went up stairs and we just held onto each other in agony. I had looked at the clock before the spanking began and when it was over, it had lasted just over 40 minutes of virtually non stop whipping. Sam and I still refer to that day as the day our asses were turned to hamburger.