I woke up one fine, spring morning with the sun streaming in the window. It fell in a long shaft of light across my taut stomach. It had been warm that Spring, so Id been sleeping nude and as I turned over to shut off my alarm the sheets slipped down, exposing my firm butt, kept high and tight by my time on the swim team, amongst other sports. As I turned, I caught sight of a new addition to my rooms décor. Hanging on the wall beside the door was a brand-spanking-new maple paddle. I smiled to myself and reached back to rub my buns. I cupped my own soft mounds and crossed to the mirror to examine myself. The stripling height that had come to me in my fourteenth year had fulfilled its promise. I had filled out plenty that year and was now broad across the shoulders and chest, running into a narrow waist, firm, ripe butt and (if I do say so myself) killer legs. My _c_o_c_k_ was semi-hard with its usual morning-stiffy and I stroked it to full erection, all the while admiring my own firm, young body in the mirror. I took especial note of my plump backside. Showing up lily-white against my tanned body now, soon it would be a rich, rosy red and likely to stay that way for a while. I turned to the paddle hanging newly beside my door. Today was my eighteenth birthday and, in the loves of our community, a man. I was expected to prove my manhood today and for the rest of the year.
I reached out and touched the paddle, running one finger down its solid length. Holes would be drilled in it throughout the year, marking special events in the spanking calendar that I and my buddies would be going through. When our town was first founded, the founding citizens had taken a good, long look around themselves whilst they were writing our charter. At the time, hooliganism had been a problem with young men tearing around, smashing things up and generally making a nuisance of themselves. It was decided that something would have to be done. Taking the paddle down off the wall and testing its weight, I remembered my Dad explaining it all to me.
I was about twelve or thirteen at the time and in trouble, as usual. Dad was lecturing me in preparation for a long trip over his knee. He held his slipper in one hand and sat on the old dining chair he kept out in the garage for this express purpose. After a spanking, I was supposed to sit on the chair, which was wide and hard and of no comfort to my freshly spanked boy buns. Dad used a cushion, of course. Anyway, I was complaining that at going on thirteen I was too old to be spanked. Dad looked at me and pointed over at his work bench. "Do you see that, son?"
I looked where he was pointing and saw, hanging on the wall, a fearsome looking paddle. To my young eyes it seemed massive, which twelve smartly drilled holes puncturing its gleaming length. He wasnt going to use that on me, was he? "Yes, sir. What is it?"
"That, Michael, is your old mans paddle. My Dad made it for me for my eighteenth birthday and when your eighteenth comes along, Ill make one for you."
"What for, Dad?" He reached out for me at that point and as he unbuckled my belt and pulled my jeans and briefs down around my ankles he explained. My attention became a bit split at that point, but, as Dad pulled me down over his wide lap and began warming up my poor twelve-year-old butt with that Size 10, thick-soled slipper, he explained the peculiar rules of our town. At age eighteen, each young man of the town must prove his worthiness to join the adult community by showing the attributes the founding fathers had deemed most important in their young men. Fortitute, self-control and a willingness to serve the community. Many tests and trials were suggested and rejected until someone suggested old-fashioned spanking. All the young men were already used to it, from the Schoolmasters cane, the local policemans belt and whatever implements the boys father, uncles, grandfather or brothers used.
It was laid out that on their eighteenth birthday, each young man would be given a paddle, traditionally the boys father gave it to him, but sometimes it would be a favourite uncle or grandfather who gifted this two-edged sword. On the one hand, that paddle, which I would carry with me constantly for the next year; hanging up at home, on the dash of my car, sticking out of my knapsack in class, was a badge, a proud statement that I was an adult. I was allowed to drink, my curfew was gone, all the little niggly rules were gone. On the other hand, though, that paddle was not just for show. Throughout the year there would be specific events and markers where I would be bent over, ass-up for swat after swat after swat. Today would be the first of many where I would go to sleep on my stomach, ass welted and sore. Like I say, no boy in my town was a stranger to a toasted butt, but your adult paddle was a different matter. It was expected that you take your punishment like a man, keeping your butt up, and these were not love-taps, let me tell you. A few tears was all right, it let your punisher know he was doing a good job, but no-one liked a sniveller.
I looked up from the paddle in my hand as I heard my Dads bedroom door open. My door open and he walked in. My Mom died when I was very young and my Dad and his brothers have been everything to me. We also dont go in too much for modesty. It seemed silly to be modest in front of my Dad and Uncles. Each one of them had stripped and spanked me not once but several times each over the course of my childhood so its always seemed stupid to bother about being naked in front of them. Dad was already dressed in his work suit, jacket over his shoulder. He noted my obvious erection with a raised eyebrow and gestured at my paddle. "Got your present, then?" he grinned at me.
"Yes, Dad. Thanks, its brilliant."
"Not going to keep me waiting, I hope?" he asked, jerking his head towards the stairs.
"No, sir, Im ready now if you like." I followed my Dad downstairs to his study. He opened the door and gestured me in in front of him, giving my backside a playful slap as I walked past. My still-erect _c_o_c_k_ bounced as I walked, coming to a stop in front of Dads desk, hands behind my back. This was to be the first of six paddlings for me that day. As a new adult my first task was to prove myself to my immediate family. My buddy Scott got off lightly. He only had his Dad and his elder brother to bend over for. I had my Dad and my Dads five brothers. There was to be a family meal that evening and I knew that my ass was for dessert. Uncle Jack, the eldest and three years my fathers senior had let me know the previous day while he took me shopping for some new sports gear. Id been trying on some new soccer shorts when he pushed a pack of three jock straps through the curtain. "Try one of these on, Johnny." Obediently, Id slipped off my boxers and pulled up one of the brilliant white jocks. Uncle Steve pulled back the cubicle curtain and surveyed me. I felt pretty packed into the jock, my _c_o_c_k_ and balls firmly supported. Steve put his hand on my shoulders and, turning me round, pulled at the various strings and straps framing my backside. Hed patted my ass, where a light blush still lingered from my morning warm-up. My Dad had been giving my bare butt a fairly decent hand-spanking each morning for the previous two weeks to toughen me up a bit before my birthday. Uncle Steve told me to dress while he paid for the sports gear and on the car-trip home had told me to wear one of the jocks when he and my other Uncles came round for my birthday dinner. "I dont want one of the lads getting swat-happy and catching your balls." I had shivered a little inside, imagining myself spread wide in front of my Uncles, receiving swat after stinging swat from each in turn. I still had all that to look forward to (and dread) whilst I stood before my father, who was casually twirling the paddle ! in his hand and surveying my young, bare body.
"Right, then, son, lets have a proper look at you. Spread your legs. Now bend over, fingers on the floor." I felt him run his hand over my ass, fingers stirring the soft down of hair which had sprung up over my crack. "Well, son, this is truly one very spankable butt you have here. Lets get to it." With that he brought the paddle down in a resounding crack, stinging my bare butt. Whack! Crack! The paddle bounced over my stretched-wide butt as my Dad peppered it with swats, high and low, individual swats and a series of whacks on the lower part of my pert cheeks, right on the sit spot. I held firm, my _c_o_c_k_ now dripping slightly as my Dad burned my ass. The swats started to slow and then stopped. I felt him rest the paddle on my upturned butt, balanced along my back. "Thats good, son, but were not quite done yet. Youve still got your Uncles to see this evening, but theres plenty of time between now and then for your butt to recover. So, were going to do fifty good swats and then you can go get dressed for school. I recommend you dont horse around too much with your buddies, by the way, your Uncles wont go easy on you this evening. Now, are you ready?"
"Yes, sir. Thank you, Dad."
He pounded on my butt, spank after stinging spank over my already burning buns. Whack, Whack, Whack! I counted in my head and, although I was sniffing a little by the end, struggling to hold back tears, I loved every minute of it. I was a man. I could take any paddling going and, although I took my Dads warning about my Uncles seriously and my butt was burning enough to make me yelp when Dad smacked it with his hand to send me upstairs to the shower, I couldnt wait to get into school and show off my new paddle. Id have to take a few swats off my buddies and Coach would probably have me bare-ass after swim practice, but thered also be plenty of younger guys begging me for a few swats from my paddle, and I was going to be only too happy to oblige.