One time, three months before I was 18, a few of my buddies and I took a camping trip in the Bluffs, about twenty minutes from my house. We planned on staying the night, and my parents knew about it. Late that night one of my friends got out a case of bear, and being a normal 17 year old boy, I couldn't refuse and drank in copious amounts. My friends always thought it was funny to see me drunk, anyway. That night, though, went by very fast because I don't remember anything from it.

Well, the next morning one of my friends drove me home. I had an awful hangover, which was unusual for me. Well, I just went home, took a shower, and crashed on my bed with a splitting migraine and slept for 5 hours. Of course, when I came in, I was less than friendly to my inquisitive father, and of course he knew something was up and figured I had not been sober the night before.

After I slept for 5 hours my dad came home from some store and woke me up. He told me he knew I was drunk before and that I should tell him exactly what happened because he would find out eventually and that my punishment would be worse if I lied. Of course I was tired and cranky, and answered borderline smart-ass that all my friends had surprised me with beer they had and I didn't want to be the only one not drinking. I then apologized, said it was stupid, that I felt awful about it, and that I would never do it again. My dad was (of course) mad, but he was also concerned with me. I knew this because he started lecturing me about my future, about how I would start college in a year and that in a few years I would have to make all of my own decisions. He lectured me about my lack of direction in my life, and told me that whatever I was trying to prove was not being proved and the only thing that would come out of it was a blistered ass.

He then just stood there and shook his head at me for a few seconds. Then, not to my surprise, I was told to get out of bed and stand in front of him. I did so. I looked awful - I had hair going everywhere and my eyes were pink. I felt awful, too. Next, to my surprise, he came right out and told me that I was going to get a bare-ass whipping, and told me to get my pants down and hand him my black belt. Even though I felt bad, I quickly undid my belt to avoid any extra licks. As I was quickly removing my jeans, he snapped the belt a couple times, which made me jump, but also made me almost jump out of my jeans. So there I was, standing in white briefs and, unfortunately, not boxers. He then told me to take my shirt off, which I did. I was standing there basically being scared of getting spanked in my underwear, and also extremely embarrassed. Actually, the embarrassment was the worst thing of all.

Even though my father generally doesn't talk that much before a strapping, this time was different. He told me I was an immature adolescent and I would be treated like one. He said he was really mad and he was going to whip the tar out of me and I wasn't going to forget it.

Without further adieu he told me to turn around and face my bed. However, I was surprised when he pulled my desk chair out in front of me and told me to bend over it. This was not part of the usual ritual, and I guess I thought this at the time, because I delayed 2 seconds. Because of this, my dad grabbed my shoulders and pushed me down on the chair, and slapped my butt really hard with his hand for emphasis. I laid there on my chair, and adjusted myself, and of course, made sure my ass was well stuck up in the air. I remember I could feel cold air against my ass, and how bad a bare-butt strapping stung. I figured I had to lay on the chair because it was higher, so it was easier for him to aim at me.

My dad grabbed me, put his hand on my neck, which was also unusual, and started strapping the tar out of me. After a few licks I was stinging worse than anything and I started squirming around. This is when I found out why his hand was on my neck. I was smaller than my dad, and he held me firmly in place. He just kept on bringing the belt down, and it made the loudest crack when it wrapped around my ass.

After a dozen or so licks I started screaming, which I usually didn't do. I was in such pain that I couldn't think of anything else. I just started whaling and screaming. I felt so weird, like I was in a different world. Even as I was bawling, my dad didn't stop. He just kept on whipping me all over my butt, aiming perfectly, and hitting very, very hard. God, that was a strapping. He just went on and on, holding me there as I screamed and cried. He didn't care though - he wanted to teach me a lesson.

Of course I always clenched my butt cheeks, but that never helped. So after about 30 (I think it was 30, but I wasn't counting) I started kicking my feet. That was stupid because my dad gave me three licks in rapid succession. After a few more, he stopped and stood there. I just laid there and screamed for about a minute, acting like I was going to die or something. When I stopped, he asked me if I was done screaming. Of course I had been crying so long that I couldn't get a word out, so he brought the belt down again and repeated very angrily "Are you done yet?!?" I screamed yes. He then told me to stand up. I did so quickly. As I stood there with my red face, he told me to put my jeans on. I reached down to get them, and saw my butt which was bruised purple. I put them back on, though, quickly. He then handed me my belt and told me to put it on. I threaded it back on, and buckled it. He then told me to bend over and pick up my shirt and put it on too. I did so, and just stood there in front of him. He then just looked at me and walked out of the room.

My jeans hurt to be on very bad, but I was too scared to take them off. So, I just lay in bed and went back to sleep. I woke up a few hours later because my butt was still in pain. At this time, I thought it was safe to take my jeans and underwear off, and I did so and lay there under the covers. I tried to go back to sleep, and about 10 min. later my father opened my door to see what I was doing. I just lay and pretended to be asleep.

That was one of the worst spankings of my life. My ass was bruised for a while, and I made sure to show off my friends the damage. They thought I was cool for taking it, but I hated my father for it. However, I only hated him for a week or so, and then I was back to my usual self.