I was allowed to get my driver's license under conditions. It was already known that as long as I lived at home, the board was still a possibility. I knew that because it was used regularly, my parents never repeated themselves, one warning - the second time you got the board. I could get my driver's license but ANY ticket would get me paddled. I agreed thinking it would never happen. Teenagers are such optimists.
During football season of my senior year, I took the family car to the football games (with all the standard warnings). I was to go straight to the game and straight home, no side trips or "cruising" the drive-in's. While there, a friend asked if I could take him home after the game. He lived only a mile in the other direction, so I said no problem! On the way to his home and fiddling with the radio, I ran into the ditch and got stuck up against a fencepost. It dented and scratched the front fender (and got worse as we tried to get it out) and sure enough, along comes the sheriff. Regardless of pleading, I got a ticket for "Failure to Control". Well, how much worse could the punishment be, I'd already dented the car. (Did I mention it was our NEW car?)
As soon as I got home I told my parents exactly what had happened. You didn't lie if you wanted to sit down anytime during the next week because a lie would get you the strap instead of the paddle and believe me, the strap was far worse especially on a bare butt and that was the only way it was used.
Dad said, "Let me get this straight - You disobeyed and did not come directly home, or call for permission? You banged up the new car? AND, you got a tcket? "Yes, sir". That means three separate punishments, right? ". . . .Yes, sir. . . . " All right, let's get this over with. Get in the living room. RATS! This meant over the back of the overstuffed chair where there were two straps on the bottom cushion that you had to grab hold of. If it was a "kitchen" punishment, you just bent over the table. The punishment wouldn't be so bad as to require something to hold on to.
Being a living room punishment was only the start. My heart sank when he said, "Drop 'em". I tried to get away with just the jeans, but he said, "Do you want me to take those boxers down?" (Uh, oh) He went into the bedroom where he kept the "implements" in his closet. My heart was in my throat and there was a brick in the pit of my stomach. I looked over my shoulder as he returned and my heart sank. He had EVERYTHING! The jocari paddle, the "board", and the strap.
The jocari paddle was used for spanking. Bare or not, it would be delivered solidly, with very short time between licks, and for a L_O_N_G time. 2 to 5 minutes was not unusual - very painful, but not unusual. The "board" was made from 3 8" laminated oak, 18" by 3", delivered solidly, each swat 5 to 10 seconds apart (you had to stay in position, or get back in position for the next swat). The strap was very supple, flexible 1 4 leather, 2 1 2" wide, and 16" long. (I think it was part of an old tool belt, to which he had attached a wooden handle from a scraper, inserting the strap where the blade usually went.) He struck a cadence with it, usually about a second between licks, maybe a little longer.
I thought he was just trying to make an impression until he said, "OK, first we'll deal with the ticket." At that, the first swat arrived with the board. It stung so badly it almost didn't hurt, it was almost instantly numb. Just about the time the pain started to register, the second swat arrived. I was no longer numb, my butt caught fire. I yelped, no matter, the third arrived. The tears welled up. I looked around for mother, knowing she wouldn't let things get out of hand. She was just closing the bedroom door, from the inside. I was on my own. The fourth and fifth swats really, really stung, but the sixth hurt so badly I burst out crying.
"OK, that takes care of the ticket. Now for the dented car." I watched as he picked up the Jocari. He wasted no time applying the paddle, and he was a master at it. He delivered it solidly so that it stung like all hell, but he rarely ever left you bruised. Your butt would glow in the dark for a couple days, but any bruising was light to non-existant. The punishment was the stinging that it caused for the entire time it was applied - whack!-whack!-whack!-whack! whack!-whack!-whack!-whack! whack!-whack!- whack!-whack! whack!-whack!-whack!-whack! whack!-whack!-whack!-whack! whack!-whack!-whack!-whack! whack!-whack!-whack!-whack! whack!-whack!- whack!-whack! whack!-whack!-whack!-whack! whack!-whack!-whack!-whack! whack!-whack!-whack!-whack! It just went on forever! The pain would build until your entire backside was just one mound of stinging pain and then suceeding whacks just kept it going.
After two minutes, he stopped. I was crying like a 5 year old and begging him to stop. It didn't help, he didn't stop until he thought you had learned the lesson. He let me cry it out and then said, "Now, for disobeying. You know that is the one thing we will not tolerate, and you did it anyway. Now you'll pay the price!" And I did. When the first lick with the strap landed the pain shot right through me clear to my skull. It wasn't a surprise, it always felt like that. The strap always left welts and about ten minutes after a strapping, the welts would start to throb just like you were getting strapped again. I prayed he'd stop at 6 licks, he didn't. Maybe 8? Wrong again. Please! Don't go for a record here! He didn't. He tied it - 12 licks. I had cried so hard, and was in such pain, that I just laid over the back of the chair like a rag doll. He helped me up and told me to go to bed. But my butt hurt so bad that was one of the only times I can remember that I held my butt and jumped up and down from one foot to the other. It didn't help. I hobbled off to bed holding my fanny and trying not to trip over my jeans and boxers. I didn't sleep well, kept rolling over on my back and the fire would shoot through me.
Anyway, that was age 19. I got swats right up until the day I moved out at 22, but nothing ever again like that one. The was the final lesson I was taught and it was well learned.
JC