Growing up in the South in the 1950's, Sunday morning meant a spanking in our house. Dad really wanted us to go to church with him but none of the kids wanted to. My brothers and me wanted to eat sugary cereal and watch cartoons. As we got older, we wanted to be outside riding bikes or playing ball.
Our sister always went with my parents to church because she was afraid of a spanking. However, my two brothers and I always opted to stay home. We knew the penalty was that we would each get a bare bottom spanking in front of the other two when Dad got home. Even still, we made the same choice every week.
After church, Mom would take our sister out for lunch and go shopping downtown. At least Dad insisted they be out of the house for our punishment.
We knew exactly what time he would be home and we were always looking out the living room window to see the family station wagon pull into the driveway. As soon as we saw it, we dashed upstairs. The rule was you had to be sitting on the edge of your bed wearing nothing but a pair of briefs. You also had to have the implement of your choice across your lap. Dad might decide the implement was too easy or too severe but he did let us make the first choice. We had a ping pong paddle, various hairbrushes, his old belts and his old well-worn leather slippers to chose from. His fraternity paddle was also among the choices but we did not pick it very often.
He would come into the bedroom and spank us in order of age, oldest first. Between the three of us, there is only five years difference so we are close. However, as the oldest I knew I was first. The others got to watch but you got to stay and watch them get theirs. Dad usually accepted the implement you had chosen unless it was something too light like a ruler.
We would hear the door handle turn and in he would walk. He would come right up to my bed and say "Stand up son." He sat down where I had been sitting and you knew right away to hop across his lap. Any delay or protests meant extra strokes. The way he figured it was we had a choice. We could go to church or get a spanking. There was no point in discussing it; we had made our choice -- spanking.
We each got twice our age in swats and half were on the briefs and half bare. He did not make us get up to take our briefs down which we appreciated as we got older and started to mature. After the spanking was over, he would say "Well that's it for this week. Sit down on your bed, if you can, and watch your brothers."
We thought nothing of it and it was common in the South at that time to have a regular weekly spanking. Many Dads chose Sunday after church to have their boys pay for all the week's infractions as well as any last minute wrong doings Saturday night. In the summer when we would go to the public pool in the neighborhood, we were not the only boys in the locker room who sported rosy red butts from that morning.
Once I started getting a little older, Dad came up with the idea to spank us individually in private. Rather than spanking us in our room together, he came home from church, passed by our room and on the way told us he would be ready in five minutes. I nervously watched the clock and exactly five minutes later knocked on his door. Each of us went in wearing just our briefs and holding our implement and got the usual spanking.
Later that day we were all at the pool and the subject of the morning's spanking came up. It turned out that none of us liked the new arrangement. We liked being spanked in front of each other. Dad has always spanked us that way even when we were bad. If he caught two of us throwing rocks or stealing something, we got it together.
So that night after dinner we asked to speak with him. We knew Mom and our sister would be out of the house and we approached him in the living room where he was sitting in his usual chair.
Sunday night was a time of relaxation for my Dad. Mom and my sister always went out after dinner with some other women and Dad got to watch TV and relax before the week started again. We knew it was a rule in our house that on Sunday night you had to be quiet and not disturb Dad. So it was with some anticipation that we all approached his chair that Sunday night.
We told him that we preferred to be spanked together on Sunday mornings and asked him if he would consider changing the new arrangement. He said he would consider it if it were really what we wanted. We assured him it was. He asked me if I did not mind my brothers seeing my development and I told him no. We realized right then that our Dad had no idea how often we saw each other changing in the locker room, the woods or in the room. After all, we three shared one room.
He told me if it was all right with us then he would go back to the old arrangement. However, he added, "You'll have to have another spanking tonight for interrupting me while I am relaxing." We had never been spanked twice in one day and we all shot anxious looks at each other. My youngest brother Timmy was clearly not into it but we all finally agreed after some quick discussions.
Dad said "OK. Get straight upstairs and wait for me in your room. Ill be up soon." That night he made us wait nearly 45 minutes and it seemed like forever. Timmy was crying by the time he came upstairs.
Our usual Sunday morning routine continued until I went into the Army after high school. Timmy and Robert kept up the routine after I left but Timmy decided for his last year at home when it was just him to go with my parents to church since he did not want to be spanked alone.
Now that we are grown up I sometimes get a call on Sunday mornings. When I pick up the phone and it is one of my brothers, they invariably ask, "Which implement did you pick today?" I look over at my partner and tell my brother that today he is going to use Dad's old hairbrush.