Remembering My First Spanking
I grew up the youngest of a big family with a father who had two strong beliefs when it came to raising boys- spare the rod and spoil the child and a boy who has reached the age of five-years-old was old enough to receive a spanking on his bare bottom if he misbehaved. Children younger than that received a mere "busting" on the seat of their pants, meaning a swat or two.
My father was a red headed farmer with broad and strong shoulders; beefy, hairy and muscular forearms; and a fiery disposition if angered. He usually got angry if someone disobeyed or sassed him or my mother.
One spring day after tagging along with my mother when she was subbing at a school (I wouldnt be going to school until that fall), I was playing with my two older brothers in a sand box by the barn. One of them was eight-years-old; the other was ten. My mother saw me playing from the window of the milk room and she came out and told me to go in the house and change out of my school clothes. She was very upset with me, because she suggested that I should know better than to play in the sand in such clothes. I didnt listen to her. I continued playing with my brothers. They looked concerned. She came out a second time and told me to go change my clothes. Again, I didnt pay her any attention. Despite my brothers warnings that I was going to get a spanking from Dad, I didnt fully realize what might happen to me.
Soon, I heard some talking at the outdoor entrance to the milk room. I distinctly heard my father say, "Ill make him mild!"
He marched over to the sand box, grabbed me by the arm, and busted my behind.
He said, "Get in that house and change out of your school clothes. Now move!"
In a feeble voice I replied, "But I need help doing that."
With that my father gave me a wry smile, but nonetheless yelled, "What you need is a spanking. Now you get in that house and change your clothes before I spank you right here in front of your brothers."
Terrified, I complied with my fathers command. I had never been spanked before, and I didnt want to find out what a spanking from my Dad would feel like. Somehow in the pit of my stomach, I knew though that I crossed the line with him and that soon I would be experiencing that which I was dreading.
Once I entered the house I quickly changed out of my school clothes. I even folded them up the best I could and put them back in my drawer.
I didnt dare go back outside for fear of getting myself in more trouble.
What I ended up doing was sitting at the dining room table which had a view to our houses entryway and back door. I was thinking to myself that if Dad was going to spank me that I might as well make it easier on him. He would not appreciate having to go looking for me upstairs and if he thought that I was hiding from him than maybe he would spank me even harder. It is funny how kids minds work. In retrospect, I shouldnt have been waiting for him at all. My waiting suggested to him that I had something to clear off my conscience. In thinking back on those times, Im sure it was only a matter of time before my father was going to spank me. He needed to break me of some of my bad habits.
When everyone returned from the barn and was filing into the house from the downstairs entryway, my father caught sight of me. He remained motionless in the entryway. I remained motionless sitting on one of the dining room chairs, my feet not even touching the floor. Even though there was activity all around us, we stared at each other for what felt like an hour, but really was probably only several seconds. His glare was intense. I wanted to avert my gaze, but the anger seething through his eyes was paralyzing. Without a word and using the index finger of his right, calloused hand, he motioned me to him. Soon that same hand would be unleashing fiery on my tender bare bottom.
I walked toward him while still staring at him. I passed the kitchen, the only room separating the dining room from the entryway and the unknown pain to come. I was absolutely terrified. By the time I reached the floor of the entryway, everyone else had retreated into the main body of the house. My father shut the door leading to the kitchen from the entryway. We were now all alone.
He turned and sat two steps up from the entryway floor. With a light jerk of my arm, he made me stand right before him. His reddened face was level with my own even though he was sitting and I was standing. I was so petrified that I looked way from his penetrating stare. I didnt know what could be worse- the anticipation of a spanking or an actual spanking.
He commanded, "Look at me, son!"
I did.
He asked in what was surprisingly a soothing voice, "Were you waiting for someone?"
I moved my shoulders up and then down as I if I didnt know.
He said again, "Answer me, son, who were you waiting for? Were you waiting fro me?"
"Yes, I was waiting for you." I was not sure where my voice came from.
Dad then asked, again in that deceptively soothing voice, "Why were you waiting for me, son."
"I dont know." I said rather dumbly.
"Oh, I think you do know, son. Dont make this any harder than it is going to be. Now answer me, why were you waiting for me?"
"I thought that maybe you were going to punish me for what happened back at the barn." I said those words rather quickly as if I was relieving myself of some tremendous load.
"What did you do that warrants punishing, son?" Dad said with the same wry smile I had seen earlier when he busted my bottom at the barn.
"I didnt listen to Mom when she told me to change out of my school clothes." I said without any doubts.
"How many times did your mother ask you to change out of your school clothes?" He asked, although he already knew the answer.
"Twice," I said, again matter-of-factly.
"Thats correct, son. I guess that you had time to think when you were waiting for me at the dining room table. What else did you do that warrants punishment?" Dad said.
This question threw me off. I had no idea what he was getting at.
"Let me refresh your memory. When I dusted your bottom at the sandbox, you told me that you couldnt change out of your school clothes because you needed help. Yet, I, for one, know for a fact that you are perfectly capable of changing out of your clothes by yourself. You can even tie your own shoes. Now, I hear you say far too often these days that you cant do this or that because you are too young. The truth of the matter is that you are not too young for what is about to happen to you. Frankly, you act like a spoiled brat and I am not going to stand for it. Son, you did nothing less than challenge me back at the sandbox. You did nothing less than sass me. There are two things I will not accept from my children. They may not disobey or sass their mother or me."
Now what should be the punishment for a naughty boy who disobeys his mother and sasses his father?" He said coolly.
I shook my head.
"You can do better than that, son. You werent just waiting for me at the dining room table, but you were waiting for something, werent you, son?" He said rather logically.
I nodded in agreement.
"What was it? Was is it that you need?" He said as if he couldnt wait for the answer.
At that point, I suppose that I could have said that I needed a timeout or that I needed to be grounded or that I needed to go to bed without any supper, but I didnt say those things. In a whimpering, barely audible voice, I said, "I need a spanking."
"What was that? Speak up, son. What is that you need?" My dad retorted.
"I need a spanking, sir?" I said with more confidence in my voice, not knowing where the word "sir" came from.
"What do you need the spanking for?" He said, prolonging the agony.
"For disobeying Mom and sassing you." I said, confused since I felt that we had already established that.
"Now, tell me what you need and what you need it for?" He said, again prolonging the agony.
"Dad, I need a spanking for disobeying mom and sassing you." I said, hoping that was going to be the last question or command.
Dad continued his diatribe by saying, "I honestly thought that dusting your bottom back at the sandbox was enough to get through to you, son. Threatening you with a spanking, I thought, was all that I would need to do. When I saw you waiting for me at the dining room table, I changed my mind. You know that you were naughty and you know that you need to be punished. Quite frankly, I have been wanting to spank you for quite some time. Since you are the youngest, you act like you are the prince around here. Well, bucko, you have been a naughty boy. You crossed the line back there in the sandbox. I am going to break you from being such a little brat."
"Son, I accept, I will spank you for disobeying your mother and sassing me."
"Pull down your pants!" Those last words were not said very soothingly. In fact, I jumped back from his apparent gruffness.
I, of course, complied. I pull down my pants. It wasnt hard because my pants had an elastic band. While I was pulling my pants down, Dad was rolling his right shirt sleeve up, revealing his muscular, hairy forearm.
Once that was done, Dad lifted me up and positioned me over his knees. I had failed to pull my underwear down, but Dad wasted no time in pulling them down for me. I could tell that he was very angry with me and that he meant business because as he yanked my underwear down, my pants fell to the steps I was now dangling over. My underwear rested on my feet. No matter, my father was unhindered in spanking me to his hearts content. He held me down with his strong left hand and arm. There was no way that I was going to be doing any squirming.
At that point, there was a moment of waiting. Father spoke, "Son, you asked for this spanking and I agree that you deserve it. If I ever hear for find that you have disobeyed or sassed your mother or me ever again, you can expect to get a spanking like you are about to receive right now." This spanking is going to hurt and you will cry like a baby. When your spanking is over. I want you to dry your tears and pull your pants back up. When you have composed yourself, then you I want you to come to diner. At diner, you will apologize to your mother for disobeying her. If you forget. I will give you another spanking before you go to bed this evening. Am I making myself clear?"
"Yes." I said.
"Is there anything you want to say to me before I spank you?
"Im sorry, Dad. Im sorry for sassing you."
"Thats what I wanted to hear. You are a good boy. I am going to make a man out of you yet, but now you are a naughty boy who needs a spanking."
I took one last look and saw his right calloused hand raised above my white, bare, bottom. I clenched.
Whoosh. Crack! I began crying instantly.
Whoosh. Crack!
Whoosh. Crack!
Whoosh. Crack! The pain was unbearable.
Whoosh. Crack!
Whoosh. Crack! I could only imagine what my bottom was looking like.
Whoosh. Crack!
Whoosh. Crack!
Whoosh. Crack! The spanking was steady is if my father was counting 1, 1,000; 2, 1,000; 3, 1,000.
Whoosh. Crack! He stopped for a moment. I began to dismount, when I heard him say, "I was only taking a little break. Your spanking is done when I say it is done."
With that, I received ten more cracks in very fast repetition. And then, it was over. My dad lifted me to my feet, gave me a hug, and told me to collect myself. He reminded me not to forget to apologize to mother. I nodded. I wasnt going to disobey my dad anytime too soon.
The end
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