I was somewhere around 11 years old and I, like so many others, thought I was "pretty big for my britches." (or in my case, blue jeans). I had been fooling around with some of dad's tools and not put them away like he always wanted them. In fact, when he went looking for something, he couldn't find it.

"Mike, have you been in my tool box again? I told you to stay out of it, didn't I?"

I had to think of something fast, so I tried to blame it on my little brother.

"I wasn't in there. It must have been Wayne. He gets into your tool box when you're not around. He probably screwed it all up for you. Why don't you ask him?"

" I will," Dad said, as he went into the living room where Wayne was busy watching TV.

"Wayne...you tell me right now. Were you into my tool box. Did you take the hammer from my tool box? I want an answer right now, and it better be the truth, or so help me, I'll give you an ass-warming you will never forget! Now.... did you take my hammer, and where is it?"

"I didn't, Dad! I swear I didn't! Mike's the one who was into your tool box. I saw him earlier today with your hammer. Don't let him blame me for what he did. He's the one you ought to punish, not me!"

"And that's just what I'm gonna do, too," replied Dad.

Not a minute later, I could hear that loud shout from the other room.

"Michael...get in here RIGHT NOW!"

I knew I was in trouble. Dad only called me Michael when I was going to get it. I was sure that Wayne had told on me...little tattle-tale. I would get even with him somehow. But for now...I had to answer to Dad. I went into the living room and he was standing right there looking at me.

"Didn't I ask you before if you were into my tool box? And didn't I hear you say you weren't. Am I correct? Or is Wayne lying when he tells me you were in that tool box today and that you had my hammer? Tell me the truth! I don't want to hear any of your stories. Did you take my hammer? Where is it?"

"I...I...I'm sorry. I used it, and when I went to hammer something with it, the handle broke. I hid it in my room. I thought I could get the handle replaced before you found out. I'm sorry, Dad. I didn't mean to break it! It was an accident.

"That's all I needed to know," Dad replied. But boy you are in for the whipping of your life. You not only disobeyed me and got into the tool box, but you also lied to me and that makes things worse. You're gonna get your ass warmed. Come here!"

I begged not to get whipped by Dad, because when you got a whipping from him you felt it for a week. He had a really strong back hand, and he hit you with a fury, and when he whipped you it went on for ten to fifteen minutes. But all my begging was to no avail.

"Get over here right now! And I don't want to hear any more arguments out of you! Just do what I tell you when I tell you to do it! Get over here and bend over my knees! NOW!"

I could tell by the tone of his voice it would be worse if I didn't, so I stood before him and bent over his lap. I knew I was going to get it anyway. So why prolong it any more. As soon as I bent over, he grabbed my belt like he always did, tightened the seat of my blue jeans, and then let fly with the back of his hand across my butt. It hurt like you can't believe.

"Whack, whack, whack, whack, whack, whack...." It went on like that for about five minutes, punctuated by Dad's voice questioning:

"Didn't I tell you not to get into my tool box. WHACK! Didn't I tell you what you would get if you did? WHACK! But you still disobeyed me, didn't you, boy? WHACK! "

The interrogation and the spanks continued for a while until he let me up, and began to rub my sore butt. I could feel the heat clear though my jeans. And then he looked at me again, and struck terror in me with the next few words:

" Now that was for disobeying me. Now you're gonna get what you deserve for lying to me. I won't have a lying kid in my family. Surprise! Surprise You thought you were done! No way, Jose! I'm not through with you yet. Come here! Take down your overalls. You're gonna get the bare-ass warming I told you I'd give you someday. Get over here now, get those pants down. And if you don't do it, then I will, and if I have to, you're gonna get it worse! Now take down your overalls and get back over may knees."

I wanted to get out of there, but at eleven years old, where are you going to go to escape? Even if I pleaded with Mom, it wouldn't do any good. She never disagreed with Dad when it came to our punishment. So...I had to face it. At eleven years old, I was going to get a bare-assed spanking I couldn't believe he would ever actually DO it, but before I knew it, I was hurting big-time.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! It went on for I don't know how long. but for a long time. My but was already sore from the first whipping and now I was getting it again, and it seemed like it was even harder and a whole lot longer. My butt was so sore I just kept screaming in pain. It was a wonder the neighbors didn't call the sheriff on Dad, but they didn't. I suppose they figured I was getting just what I deserved. In those days the neighbors didn't interfere in family punishment times. (Spare the rod and spoil the child!)

When it was finally over, Dad let me go.

"Now pull up those pants and go to bed. And I don't want to see you in this living room the rest of the night, or I'll give you more to think about! "

I complied, and as I headed for the bedroom, I could see Wayne's face peeking through the curtains that separated our rooms. He had a smile of delight on his face. I had gotten the surprise of my life...a bare ass-warming, and he had been watching the whole time! Sooner or later, though, I would get even and get a chance to tell on him, and he, too, would get the surprise of his life.

We lived in fear of Dad's backhand for one more year and a whole lot more spankings and whippings, and then he was gone from our lives forever... the victim of a heart attack. But let me tell you, I still remember them all, and I don't know about Wayne, but I still crave that same old-fashioned way of settling who's boss...over the knees. In fact, I try to paddle myself once in a while just to feel the sting of a good old-fashioned whipping. Too bad I'm too timid to actually find somebody to give it to me. I'll bet I could still be surprised by a suddenly conceived bare-ass warming. Surprise! Surprise!