It was 1989, and I was 17, almost 18, when this story happened. It was one of the worst spankings I ever got (and I got a lot of them while growing up). I grew up in southern Illinois in the 1980's, and lived with my Mom and Dad in our farmhouse. Dad worked hard as a farmer, and Mom was the homemaker for my brothers and sisters and me. I was the oldest, and was in my senior year.
I was friends with identical twin, 17 year old brothers, Adam and Aaron. Like me, they lived on a large farm. Like my Dad, their father expected them to work hard, be good students and behave themselves, and administered no-nonsense discipline if they stepped out of line. One day, in April of our senior year, I ran into the twins on a Saturday morning, when our fathers had sent us to town to get supplies for the farms.
As soon as I asked them how they were doing, I could tell that they were both upset. It turned out that they had both gotten severe whippings the night before, and we now grounded for the rest of the school year. When I asked them why, they said they had borrowed their Dads truck, got into a little fender bender with it, but lied to try to keep him from finding out that they had gone where they were forbidden, and had been drinking. He found out anyway, and their butts were suffering reminders to obey their Dad and tell the truth.
They were feeling like this was way too rough on them, and softly told me that they were planning on running away from home. I was stunned. They were good, smart kids, and I couldnt imagine them flirting with such a drastic step as this. Thats when they told me that, besides the whipping and grounding, their father had promised to paddle them every weekend, for the rest of the semester. They were upset, saying it wasnt fair, they couldnt take it any more, and they werent going to stick around and be treated like this anymore.
I tried to discourage them, telling them we all had it rough at times, and had to just put up with it. I even shared with them something I had kept so secret I didnt want anybody to know: my Dad had spanked my bare backside the week before the last one every night for three nights – Friday, Saturday, and Sunday nights – for getting mad at him when he told me I had to stay home and help him and my Mom, and letting loose with some cuss words. He even washed my mouth out with soap each night, before applying the hairbrush to my bottom.
Adam and Aaron looked wide-eyed, but understanding, as they listened. "So," I finished, "youre no different than I am, guys. I wish our Dads were different, and would let us do more things we want. But what can you do? We just have to go along, lay low, and keep out of trouble."
"Nooooo waaaaay!" they both replied. "We dont have to take it! And were not gonna – not anymore! You should join us, Evan," they urged.
"Are you crazy?! My Dad would kill me if I tried to do something like that."
"See. Thats was we mean," they replied. "Thats why weve got to get away. We cant take it anymore."
"Adam! Aaron!" I called out to them. "You cant be serious. Youre gonna get into a lot more trouble – with the police, school, and your Dad!"
"Oh, noooooo! We are goin to St. Louis, where we can get jobs, melt into the crowds, and no body will find us till were adults and they have to leave us alone. You need to come with us, Evan."
"I dont think so," I called back as I headed to the family truck to drive back home.
When I got home, Dad was irked because I had taken so long, and then had forgotten to get the husks that he wanted to line the hog pens. "I cant even send you on an errand without you lollygagging around and then coming back without the very things you were sent for," he reprimanded me.
"I forgot," I replied, then foolishly added, "Is that a crime? Like you never forget anything!"
As soon as I said it I knew better, knew that it was a mistake that was going to get me into trouble.
"Come over here, young man," Dad commanded. I froze. I knew that dictate, and instantly regretted my loose mouth. When I stood without coming to him, my father strode right up to me, grabbed me by me left arm, and marched me into the barn. He directed me over to the old bench that was against one wall, where he sat down and pulled me over alongside him. Without a word or a pause, he grabbed my belt and quickly unbuckled it, unsnapped my jeans, yanked down the zipper, and then the jeans over my hips and past my knees to gather at my ankles. Then, instantly, I was topsy turvy as he hauled me across his knees. My head and arms were on the ground to his left, my feet and tangled jeans at his right.
WHAUMP! WHAUMP! WHAUMPWHAUMPWHAUMP! . . . he began walloping the overturned seat of my boxers. His strong, big hand was like cement pounding my behind, and I was wiggling and twisting, trying to evade the swats. It was futile though, because he was so strong. I groaned and hissed, trying to hold back any tears, until stopping momentarily, he jerked my boxers down my buttocks and legs, to my feet, baring my bottom. The next moment,
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! . . . a torrent of smacks with a wooden paddle was peppering my butt and thighs. Instantly, I was bouncing and bucking all over his lap, reaching back to try to protect my blazing behind. Dads steel grip twisted my arm up against my back, pinning me painfully in place on his lap, while he intensified the volleys delivered.
I screamed and begged: "Im sorry, Dad. I didnt mean to talk bad. Please, Dad! Im sorry. I wont do it again. I promise. Pleeeeez!" He ignored my pleas and promises, blistering my bottom until it felt like I had sat on an inferno! No more could I fight back the tears, as from deep within burst forth, wailing tears and apologies. "Oooo, uh, uh, awww, uh, waaaaa! Waaaaa! Daaaad! Im sorry. Uh, waaaaa! Ill, uh, beeee, uh, good! Uh, uh, waaaa, augh-uh-waaaa! Daaad! Uh, I wont, uh, haugh-uh-waaaaa, uh, dooooo, uh, it, uh, uh, gaaaain! Oh, uh, uh, waaaaa, uh, Daaaadeeee! Im sorry! Uh-waaaa! Ill-uh-be, uh, gooood! Waaaa! Dadeeeee! P-pleeeez! No, uh, moooo, uh, oooo, uh, waaaaaa! Waaaaa!"
When it was over, he pulled me up to sit on his rough, dirty jeans. I shook and sobbed with the excruciating pain and shame of being spanked like a naughty, bad boy. "Evan, you better learn fast. As long as you are living in this home, you dont ever talk to your mother or me – or any other adult – like that! Never! I dont care how old you are, if I hear you, or find out, your in for a butt blister session! Is that clear, young man?"
"Gggg-augh-uh, y-yessss, sir," I choked out my reply.
"It better be, cause the refresher lessons will be a lot worse than this one. Understand me?!"
"Aaugh-uh-yesss, Daaaad," I wailed and whimpered. He finally let me get up off his lap, and stood be in a stall, with my face to the wall until he told me I could pull up my shorts and pants, and return to helping him with the work. After over an hour, he came back in, barked at me to pull my pants up, and get out and help clean up the grain elevator. I jumped, pulled up my boxers and jeans, and raced out to get to work. The rest of the day, I worked hard, if stiffly, breaking down into tears and sniffling from time to time.
That night, as I lay on my stomach in my bed, I though about Adam and Aaron. Maybe they were right. This was not fair and no way to have to be treated.
The next Monday, in school, I caught up with them in the hall and asked when they planned on making their big escape. "This coming Friday night," they whispered. "Well, Im in with you," I answered back, and they both stopped and looked at me with disbelief.
"Youre serious?" they asked. "I am now," I said.
"What happened?" they asked. Lowering my voice, I told them about Saturdays whipping. "Okay," they said. "Start packing up your things now. Well meet at midnight Friday night at the river bank.. We can take the river down to St. Louis, and no one will have any trace of tracks to follow. Well head out from there."
In my naivete I agreed, never even thinking about what we would travel down the river in or on. I packed up my clothes in my old suitcase, but hid it in my closet. Then I started getting toothpaste, shampoo, deodorant, my toothbrush, to take with me. By Fridays classes, I was feeling tense with nervous energy mounting, as the countdown began.
As usual, Friday night was a weary night from the week, and I went to my room about 10:30 to go to bed. At 11:45, I got up, dressed quickly in jeans, t- shirt, jacket, running shoes and socks. Then, quietly, I brought out my suitcase, walked in my stocking feet to the front door, slowly and stealthily opened it, and then walked out onto the porch. Sitting on the step, I tied my shoes, picked up my suitcase, and was off to the river.
About 12:10, I arrived to find Adam and Aaron already there. They had obviously given a bit more thought about this than I, because there was their fathers dingy at the rivers edge. It was scarcely big enough to hold the three of us, not to mention our suitcases. We all piled in, and pushed off from shore. We sat at each end, and one in the middle, and with the two oars, slowly propelled ourselves along with the current.
We drifted in the dark all night, until almost 6 a. m., when dawn began breaking. All three of us, big as we were, felt exhausted and a little uneasy about where we were and were headed. About 7, Aaron said, "Im hungry, man." Oh, oh. It dawned on me that we didnt even have any food. Well, once again, Adam and Aaron had thought ahead more, and they pulled out some biscuits and a jar of their mothers home made jelly. We scooped it out and spread it on the biscuits with our hands, and ate ravenously, washing our hands in the river alongside the boat. They had brought a thermos of milk, and shared it with me too.
We were all satisfied for a while, and I think we all fell asleep for a little while, as we drifted further down river. I woke having to urinate, and convinced the twins to put ashore so we could relieve ourselves. After that, we were back in the boat and once again on the way to St. Louis.
By Saturday night, we were all famished, and had no more food to eat. I had a few bucks, and so did the twins, so we came ashore near a small town, and left the boat tied while we went to a restaurant for supper. We could all get a roast beef dinner special, and ate nonstop. We used the bathroom at the restaurant, and then hurried back to the boat to resume our trip to freedom.
Sunday morning, we floated past lots of families heading off to church, and little churches with crowds of parishioners gathering. We would have been in one of them had we not become fugitives. By noon Sunday, we were all starving again, and had stopped ashore once for relief. We were also beginning to feel pretty grubby, as none of us had had a shower since Friday morning. The twins were still, at 17, pretty bare of any facial hair; and although I had some fuzz that I shaved every two weeks, I didnt show a need for that yet.
About 2 p. m., we spied a large church picnic near the grounds of the church. We decided that we could "blend" into the group and get some food to last us. Our plan was to get to St. Louis some time Monday. Where we were going to go, and what we were going to do, once we arrived, we had no idea.
Anyway, we stashed the boat, and walked softly over to the church grounds to make our way to the food line. I guess we thought we were being unobtrusive, because we stayed there, until we got close enough to pick up paper plates, and then help ourselves to the array of potluck that was available. We filled our plates, and headed away from the group, over to a shade tree where we sat down under it, and began filling our bellies with the delicious meal. We drank iced tea, and even had a piece of cherry pie. We interrupted our rapid eating only to talk about how far we probably were from home, and towards St. Louis.
As we talked, none of us noticed the sheriffs car that had pulled up to the church lot. A few minutes later, two large deputies were standing over us, asking our names. We gulped, and Adam and Aaron – who were unmistakeably twins – gave their first names, but a false last name. Answering last, I had a split second to come up with something more, and I gave my name as "Ned" and also used a phony last name. The deputies asked us where we were from, and we all said St. Louis, in such unison that it had to sound unbelievable at once.
"What are you boys doing all the way up here?"
"Ah, we were doin some fishin," Aaron spoke up.
"Is that so? Wheres your fishing gear, and boat?" We said we had left our boat back at the river and were planning on heading out back home, to St. Louis, shortly. We just hadnt had much luck fishing, and were feeling hungry when we saw the picnic.
"So, you just crashed these folks picnic, is that what you did?"
"Well, uh, not really."
"Stand up, boys," the deputy ordered. "You come with us. Bill radio for another car." In a few minutes, we were in the back of separate sheriffs cruisers, as the deputies in each told us to direct them to our boat. What could we do at this point? I guess we hoped that when they saw the boat they would believe us and let us go.
At the river bank, the deputies got out, leaving us in the back of the cruisers. They went to the boat, retrieved our suitcases, and noted the registration of the boat in Illinois. Ten minutes later, we were at the jail, being booked into a large cell, where we were told to stip out of your dirty, sweaty clothes, and put on baggy, striped pants and pullover tops. We were now barefoot and sitting in the cell wondering what next was in store. This was something we had never foreseen.
About 7 p. m., Sunday evening, a deputy came to the cell and told us that we had visitors. "Who is it?" Aaron asked.
"Your father, and his," the deputy replied, pointing to me. I about fell off the bench I was sitting on.
"No way," I responded.
"Yes, way, youngster," the deputy responded.
"Gulp. Ah, no, you cant, uh, hell burn my butt if he comes in here."
"Too late. You should have thought of that before you stole the boat and ran away," the deputy replied.
We looked up to see our fathers walking up the corridor towards our cell. I guess all of our eyes and mouths were agape, as we watched our fathers come for us. Our Dads waited for the deputy to unlock the door and open it, then walked in to us.
"Im sorry, Dad," I started right away, deeply ashamed and terrified of how upset I had undoubtedly made him.
"No, Dad, please, not that, and not here," I heard Aaron say, and out of the corner of my eye I saw his and Adams father holding what looked like a longer, narrow ping pong paddle. Mr. Tomlinson pulled Aaron up off the bench where he was sitting, and replaced him by sitting down. Immediately, Aaron was yanked off his bare feet, falling headlong across his fathers lap. Mr. Tomlinson wasted no time in snatching the waistband of the loose jail pants, and pulling them down to Aarons feet. Then the fierce spanking began. He brandished that paddle over every part of Aarons bare bottom, inner and outer thighs, until Aaron was shrieking and kicking, but unable to halt or flee from the paddle that scorched his bottom fiery red. Aarons pants flew across the cell from his thrashing feet and legs. Finally, he ceased struggling, collapsed, sobbing and pleading, amidst choking and gagging. When it was over, he was standing, red, but bare, bottomed, facing the corner of the cell; and Adam was over his fathers knees, receiving the same punishment.
Meanwhile, Dad did not wait for Mr. Tomlinson to finish with Aaron and Adam. He had me splayed across his knees, my pants at my feet. Mine too were history as I kicked and bucked, and twisted, writhed, and bounced, trying to elude the hairbrush that my father had brought to tan my behind. Sooner than either Aaron or Adam, I was broken and beaten, and succumbed to sobbing, bawling, and begging for forgiveness and a stop to this spanking. Dad might as well have been deaf, as it went on and on and on. As I choked and shuddered with gagging sobs, I looked up to see the badly battered backsides of Adam and Aaron as they stood with their noses in separate corners of the cell. Still, my Dad kept on blistering my bare, blazing bottom.
When it was over, Dad pulled me up, and led me out, followed by Mr. Tomlinson with Adam and Aaron, all of us bare from the waist. In a while, we were given our old, dirty clothes to put back on, which he did with gingerly care. Then, our Dads escorted us out, to their cars (with Mr. Tomlinsons boat trailer and the dingy behind it). The long ride back home was agony, as Dad was silent the whole trip. When we pulled up at the farmhouse, he spoke for the first time.
"Get upstairs and into the shower, Evan, Then, wait there with our pajamas on for me." I fled into the house, ran upstairs, leaped out of my dirty clothes and raced to the bathroom. The hard stream of warm water was brutal on my punished butt. Afterwards, I hurried back to my room, pulled on my pajamas, and laid face down on my bed.
Less than an hour later, Dad came in. He did not speak to me then either. He sat down on the side of my bed, reached over and hauled me over his knees again, yanked down my pajama bottoms, and once more whaled my battered bottom. In a minute, I was screaming and squalling as I writhed and bucked under the barrage that he applied. Once more, he went on seemingly without end. Afterwards, he pulled me roughly up off his lap and stood me before him. He lectured me about my behavior, my cheating, stealing, and lying, dishonest behavior, running afoul of the law. I only sobbed and nodded my hanging head up and down in agreement.
Then, when I thought he had finished, he sat back down and pulled me bare-bottomed back across his lap, and administered an unbelievable, second round of spanking. I could not believe how severely his discipline of me was. Then, he stood up, wrapped his arm around my waist, and lifted me hanging at my waist, and dropped me into my bed. I fell on my stomach, still sobbing. He pulled up my sheet and blanket over my battered behind, turned off the light at my bedside, and walked out closing the door behind me.
Like the twins, I was grounded for the rest of the school year, and for all summer too. Like them too, I got repeated, extreme spankings every Friday night until I left for college in late August. This was one of the worst spankings I ever got, both in how harsh it was and how long a series it turned out to be.
I got less after I went off to college, but still managed to get too many to sit well for days afterwards, especially on breaks and vacations home, and a couple of times when my Dad came to campus and administered discipline to me in my dorm. That was horrible beyond humiliating.
Adam and Aaron graduated and went off to the same college, and I would get together with them during breaks and vacations. Their father was very strict with them, and if either one of them got less than a B in a course, he received a thorough thrashing and lost the use of a car for the next semester.
Needless to say, we all had some more years of painful learning to experience as we grew up through college.