As of today, I have received more than eight emails about my original posting of my Last Parental Spanking. Interestingly, one was from a 17 year old, one from an 18 year old, and one from a 23 year old. If the list moderator allows, I would rather try to answer all the questions by posting this, rather than trying to answer each individual email. (To the 17 year old specifically, no my parents were not divorced and my dad is not your dad, regardless of the similarities!)
My mother handled discipline until I was twelve. Up to age six, it was over her lap with her hand. At about age six, dad (who was a woodworking hobbyist and very good at it – he built all the furniture, shelves, and cabinets in my bedroom) made a paddle for her. It was ¼" maple and was fashioned after her hairbrush which he used as a template. So the business end was 6" by 4" with a 6" handle. Over pants it really hurt, but on the usual bare butt it stung like all hell!
But at about age twelve, discipline became dad's responsibility. He didn't think the "hairbrush" paddle was quite the right implement, so he made his own from scrap 3 8" maple plywood. It was 14" long and 3" wide including the handle. His signature finishing touch was a neat grid of tiny 1 16" countersunk holes. They were spaced 1" apart in 2 rows 1" apart. For "minor" infractions you got swats. You had to bend over the end of kitchen table, hands flat out in front of you. Actually, the kitchen was used only in cold weather. During warm weather, there was an old drafting desk in the garage. I really liked it better because it's size would allow you to grab the opposing edge making it less likely you would "get out of position" or try to protect your butt with your hands which would always get you an additional punishment after the first matter was settled. Since we lived in the country, there were no neighbors close by to hear the sounds emanating from the garage. Dad never gave fewer than 12 swats, and there was plenty of time between licks to think about what you had done.
For "major" infractions forget swats, you got a "_d_a_m_n_ good spanking". You would have to lie down over the end of the table or desk and reach above you and grab the sides. Or worse, you would be told to "head for the living room" which had the big overstuffed low-backed chair with the straps that held the seat cushion in place which you had to grab onto. From experience I had learned two things: 1) if you slid your wrists under the first one, and grabbed hold of the second, you could always stay in position, and 2) he used the chair when he intended to really "blister your butt". Also, "drop `em" was usually uttered only in the living room. The whacks would come as fast as he could deliver them, and it continued for a long time. He would then make you face the wall, spread you feet "a shoulder width apart", and place your hands flat on the wall at shoulder height. You were not allowed to move your feet or hands until he told you the punishment was over. He would then go off and decide whether you had learned your lesson. If not, he would come back and lecture you some more then continue the lesson.
A "minor infraction" was forgetting to turn the basement lights out, turn the burners off on the stove, leaving the exhaust fan running, and stuff like that. Everything else was a "major infraction", of which three were the most serious – lying, stealing, or disobeying. You learned very quickly that if you were nailed with something, you did not try to lie your way out of it. The punishment for that would assure that your pants and underwear would soon be down around your ankles and it would be far worse and added to whatever punishment you had already earned.
At age fourteen or so, "the board" was replaced with a new one made from laminated 1 8" oak veneer. Dad glued three layers together cross-grained with a new product called "epoxy glue". The actual strength of the piece was in the glue; the wood was the weight and the volume. This new paddle was 18" long and 4" wide, with the signature grid of holes, only 3 rows - the middle one staggered from the others. Even through jeans it stung like all hell and "swats" took on a whole new meaning. Bare bottom spanking was still given with the old paddle (which became known as the "spanking paddle", basically because it was lighter and easier to deliver a flurry of licks over a long period of time. A spanking over pants, however, was done with the new one even though it seemed to tire him out for anything over 3 minutes or so.
Then at age sixteen two things happened. The first was that someone gave dad a Jocari paddle, which became the new "Spanking Paddle". He, of course, customized it with his signature pattern of holes. And the second was the introduction of "the strap". This was what I believe was the belt from his tool belt, which had been replaced with a new one. Rather than throw away a perfectly good belt (the man never threw anything away, there was always another use for it – he invented re-cycling) he cut it into two pieces 14" long. He then sewed them together, and inserted it into a paint scraper handle. The whole assembly was now about 20" long and about 2-1 2" wide or maybe closer to 3".
It was important that each implement had a name (the board, the spanking paddle, and the strap) so he could tell you exactly which one you were to go get for your punishment. Man, I hated having to bring the implement of my expected pain to my own beating! But then again, there was always the mystery of whether you were going to have to drop `em . . . . . . . .
My parents gave you one warning only. The next time you were punished, unless it was something "any five year old knows is wrong". If that, you were paddled. Punishments were pretty immediate, you usually didn't have to wait longer than for Dad to arrive home and hear the basics. Then you would be summoned and told where to present yourself. Explanations were brief and concise, punishments long and painful.
You might think my parents were "strict". But in our community they were considered rather permissive. My friends were amazed that I could question any rule (unless I had already broken it and was about to be punished for it) and my parents were more than happy to discuss the issue, even alter the rule if I could convince them with my point of view. The punishment, however, was never up for discussion. At 16, I once got a real butt blistering for telling them they had no right to paddle me any more. I never brought that up again, and it was made clear that as long as I lived at home and they were responsible for me, they would punish me as they saw fit. So when I went off to college, and they were paying all the bills, I still knew (and received) whatever punishment they thought I deserved. They believed in spanking.
My friends were never, ever allowed to question a rule. The rules were the rules and you followed them without question. Junior high and High schools were run pretty much the same way and I wasn't brash enough to go around questioning or breaking their rules. They paddled too . . . and often.
I hope I've covered everything that was asked about. If not, or if you have further questions, email me.