(This is part of group of 25+ true stories posted on this site, taking place through out my life, childhood to present day. Like all others in this series, this spanking took place as written here. This story marks the seventh of an eventual dozen plus stories involving teenage punishment spankings that took place as I was raising my own family. All of these spankings were in response to an unusual event that called for a spanking. Plus all of them involve a boy or girl, not part of my family. This story is the second half of a series of spankings given because of teenage drug usage. Please read story "Z4 - Preacher's Kid's Paddling" before you read this. This story takes up at the end of that story.]
I stood looking at Julie with a growing anger inside of me.
"Are you telling me your brother Tom gave this stuff to you?" I asked.
"Oh no. I heard him talking to somebody on the phone and I listened in. He told the guy where he keeps his stuff, so I just went and got it this morning for Eric." She said propping herself up on one elbow. I wanted to paddle both of them all over again.
"OK. You show me where it is." I ordered. She got off the bed; her cotton covered butt looking pink thru the thin white panties. Eric started to follow, and I snapped my fingers, he quickly laid back down on the bed, his brief covered bubble butt on full display.
We found Tom's stash in his football cleats, in his bedroom closet. 'Good spot. He hasn't used these in two years, and no one is going to borrow them this time of year.', I thought to myself.
We went back downstairs and Eric & Julie put back on their jeans, shirts and shoes as we discussed the stupidity of their stunt this morning and what it cost them. I reminded them of the contents of the envelope and their signatures and dates. They both nodded quietly at my threat...and that's all it was, because the envelope wouldn't prove _s_h_i_t_ in a court of law.
My walk home was fun, because Eric biked along with me, and a few kids joined in for the long walk. By the time we got home, you wouldn't think his humpy butt had just gotten a hard spanking and paddling. But, the walk also gave me time to think of a way to catch Tom and cause him more pain in his 16, almost 17 year old, buns than he could imagine.
Monday morning was a mandatory 8AM sales meeting for me, and I got back to our neighborhood about 11AM. I stopped at Ralph & Vi's and she invited me in for coffee, since Ralph was already on the road. We discussed Julie's spanking, sans the drug & _s_e_x_ part. She remarked that Julie's attitude was very contrite when she got home, so my spanking must have really worked. I then put into motion my plans for Tom's butt.
"Vi, there is a field prep job open for someone for the baseball season. It wouldn't cut into any regular summer job that Tom might have, can I wake him up and take him to the fields for a couple of hours and show him what we need?" She readily agreed and I went upstairs to his bedroom to wake his lazy ass up.
He was starting to stir, stretching his almost 6' slender body, this first day of spring break in his junior year, when I walked in. I sat down on his bed and swatted the seat of his tight white BVDs. His head snapped back and he sat up. I told him what I needed and he really liked the idea. He pulled on his jeans, socks, sneakers and T-shirt and we headed downstairs to my car. He kissed his Mom 'good morning', grabbed a Twinkie and headed out the door. I purposely had left a binder upstairs and hollered out my need to go back and get it. At the same time I removed his stash, and then joined him in my car.
We headed to the south ball fields, but I detoured to Mr. Brown's barn instead. I had cleared its usage with him earlier, and he was going to be gone all day anyway. Tom looked at me as we turned into this farm.
"We need to cover some things, just you and I Tom. "Don't worry, we won't take too long.", I said as casually as possible. A different look crossed Tom's long face, his brown eyes looking around as we drove up to the barn. I got my binder and a sports equipment duffel bag out of the car and motioned for him to follow me inside. As I did, I turned on my miniature tape recorder in my shirt pocket.
I pulled open wide the barn's double doors and Tom helped, and then I turned and faced him once we were inside.
"Tom, I am going to spank your ass so bad, that you won't ever forget this morning, the rest of your life. Do you want to know why?", I yelled. He took several steps back in surprise & fear and shook his head. I pulled out his stash from my binder, along with the envelope from yesterday and unloaded on him. He slowly sank to the straw covered dirt floor of the old barn, legs crossed, head hanging down. He knew he had been caught, and their wasn't a thing he could do but run or get spanked.
"Tom, Ralph and your Mom won't put up with you ruining the lives of your sisters, so there is no telling what they will do with you. Your other option, is my spanking your ass so hard, that next week when school starts you'll still need an excuse to get out of gym class. Choice is yours. Which is it? Your parents or me?"
Whatever was going through his mind must have scared the _s_h_i_t_ out of him where his parents were concerned. He slowly stood up, popped the buttons on his worn jeans and pushed them down to his knees. His T-shirt barely covered his white cotton briefs as he stood silently waiting for me to begin. I had remembered several things about the contents of the barn from when I had spanked Jeff, (Story "Y-Jeff's Paddling for Stealing.")
I walked over to the wall and pulled an old 10' wooden ladder over to the middle of the floor and laid it down. The old style had the base at about 3', and the top at barely 12". It was perfect for my needs. I motioned Tom over to the narrow end. I pulled up the narrow end and he knew from his "Indian Raid" spanking what to do. He pushed his jeans to his ankles and spread his knees apart and slid over the ladder. I lowered the ladder forcing his feet apart. I took some duct tape out of the duffel bag and secured his jeans to the second from the top ladder rung. I had centered that end of the ladder, directly under an old rope and pulley, that at one time had been used to hoist hay bales into the upper loft. I went to another wall and released the rope and it dropped next to the top rung. After tying that end of the rope to the ladder, I went back to the wall and pulled the rope and with it the narrow end of the ladder rose.
Tom groaned as he was turned nearly upside down, the ladder tilted at a steep angle. His jeans held his ankles tightly in place with the duct tape, and his knees spread apart on the ladder sides, spreading apart his cotton covered buns as his T-shirt slipped downwards to his shoulders. I tied off the rope at the wall and walked over to a softly crying, slender 16 year old. His hands were on the bottom rung, giving his body some movement. I reached into my duffel bag and pulled out a piece of carpet sample that I had rolled into a 6" round cylinder, with some duct tape. I slid the carpet roll under his upper thighs, and pulled his _c_o_c_k_ and balls flat against his stomach inside his briefs, before I positioned the carpet roll tight against his brief covered balls. Now his butt was an angled white target, and his hands just resting on the lowest rung. Duct tape secured his wrists to the side of the ladder. Tom was ready to see what I was going to use to spank him.
The previous night I had pulled out the old riding whip I had used on Geoff and Matt years before, from the garage shelf, and put it in the duffel bag, along with the Jokari paddle. The riding whip was 18" long, 3 layers of leather, about an inch wide at the handle, and tapering to less than a 1/4" at the business end's two pieces of 3" unsewn leather. I pulled both of these items out and laid them in front of Tom's upside down face. He started to beg as I stood and adjusted his briefs. I purposely let him wear his old clothes, because I wanted his white cotton briefs to be slightly baggy from a day's wear and they were, despite their size XL boy's BVD label. I rubbed his twitching buns as I told him what was going to happen.
"Tom, your underpants are going to determine your spanking. I am going to first give you 12 swats with the paddle. Then I will stop and tighten up your underpants waistband. Then I will give you 12 swats with the riding whip. Tighten your underpants. I repeat this procedure until I can no longer tighten your underpants. That should take about 8 sets of swats. But, in the mean time, your underpants will slowly give you less and less protection, so that a lot of this spanking will land on bare skin. Once I can no longer tighten your underpants, then I will pull them up and give you 16 swats each on the bare with the paddle and whip. Any questions?", I quietly asked as I continued to massage his buns, crotch and inner thighs, letting him know in advance his backside was toast. His tightened buns were level with my lower rib cage, making a perfect spanking target.
He tried to beg out of it, blaming an adult in the next town over for getting him hooked on wacky weed. I let him ramble on for a couple of minutes, continuing to rub his backside's various spanking targets. I finally stopped, picked up the paddle and laid the tape recorder down close to his face. Now, I would have a record of his spanking. He started to beg and cry in earnest. I then pulled his white T-shirt up to his neck and the back over his head to his chin, blinding him with his own T-shirt. He started to openly blubber and beg.
I took a position facing his cotton covered spread buns. My feet were about two feet in front of his T-shirt covered head and face. I tapped his buns with the paddle to gauge the distance. I drew back and landed the first one dead center and he bellowed. I then carefully paddled his cheeks from an angle that is the most effective in spanking. I caught both of his bun's tender sides once. I put the paddle down and massaged his warm buns for a moment. Then I rolled over his waistband, not changing his cheek's protection at all. I picked up the whip.
I stood on his right side and again gauged this distance with a slight tapping on the tightly stretched white cotton protecting his just paddled buns. I drew back and took a full arm cutting motion, creasing the seat of his briefs with my moderate stroke, and he cut loose with a terrific scream. Two more times I creased his brief's seat and then I switched sides to do the same from the opposite angle. By the time all 12 swats had landed he was screaming as loud as I think he could because of intense sting of the whip. I had his attention, even though the whip's swats were controlled and moderate.
As I slowly adjusted his underpants waistband for the second time, my lecture on drug use met with hysterical responses of never again, as I massaged his warm, sweat moistened buns through his underpants. The second adjustment made the white target smaller and tighter, but still covered his buns. I picked up the paddle.
The second dose of the paddle caused him to bounce and squirm as the hard wood made contact with the stripes of the whip. At the end, I took duct tape and secured his knees to the outside off the ladder. The third adjustment uncovered alittle of his ass crack. I pulled up on the waistband, covering back his ass crack, but baring some red butt cheeks and the some of his _d_i_c_k_.
The second dose of the whip got just as loud a reaction as the first set, with even more attempts to twist his buns. I purposely sent one stroke apiece across each thigh, just below his underpants leg openings and wrapping inside. You had thought WWIII had broken out on his backside with his screams. The fourth adjustment of his underpants again uncovered his ass crack, and my upward tugging to recover it, really bared his lower red and striped cheeks.
The third dose of the paddle concentrated on his lower cheeks and upper thighs. Tom did everything but promise to become the Pope if I just stopped. I didn't. The fifth adjustment of his briefs took some additional tugging. I pulled up on the back leg openings and pulled some crotch mark forward. This recovered his upper ass crack mark, but the rolled over waistband was tight against his _d_i_c_k_, just covering his balls.
The third dose of the whip was done from the same overhead angle as my paddle swats had been. This allowed me to concentrate on his exposed lower cheeks, since his white fabric was a "V" up the middle of his butt. I split the swats between his inner thighs and lower cheeks. He couldn't promise enough if I would just stop. I didn't, as his screams became shrill shrieks, as each new swat crisscrossed a previous whip mark.
The sixth adjustment hooked the front of his waistband under his balls and increased the angle of the white "V's" vanishing protection. The fourth set of paddle swats were virtually on the bare, with the exception of two placed high on the remaining cotton protecting his buns.
The seventh adjustment tightened his waistband against his balls, as I had to pull up more crotch fabric to keep covering his ass crack, but effectively baring his buns for the fourth set with the whip. I returned to spanking him from the side with the whip, because his balls were now exposed. But, it didn't stop the sting of 12 more strokes on his multi-colored squirming buns. I purposely slowly drew the whip across the target area, before I drew back and let fly with actual swat. It drove him nuts knowing where it was going to land, but not being able to do anything about it.
At the end of the fourth set of swats with the whip, I carefully examined the stripes and welts of his butt. I wanted to give him more, but I knew his buns might not recover for school next week. So I pulled them off, just past the whip marks on this thighs. He started begging for no more, he had learned his lesson, etc. I then let me negotiate out a plea for no more swats, but a total bare butt whipping if I caught him again. During this lecture I landed numerous hand swats at a particularly sensitive area of his inner thighs and butt cheek. He screamed out his eternal gratitude and promises of sainthood.
I went to the duffel bag and retrieved two kinds of ointment. A stinging antiseptic spray and a soothing cream. I liberally sprayed his butt and thighs. The antiseptic caused a new round of screaming, especially when some of it hit his tender balls and asshole. I waited for a few minutes and picked up the barn as he began to ask to be released. He got another dose of spray that I rubbed in, really causing him to sound off. A few minutes later he got the cream and stopped crying.
As he was released he dropped to his knees and sobbed. I kneeled down next to him and stroked his hair. He eventually leaned forward and hugged me and I hugged him back.
I wish this story had a happy ending. That I never spanked Tom again for drugs, and that Tom learned his lesson and today is a personal and professional success. No, just the opposite. A little over a year later, at 18, I gave him a bare butt belt whipping & birching, when he placed my oldest son and his older sister in life threatening danger, by having Paul drive his car to a drug buy that went bad. Today, Tom is in the Atlantic City area, supplying the needs of certain of the clients and workers in gaming community with his own products.
(The rest of my true stories are posted on this archive, in somewhat alpha/chronological order. Put your mouse's arrow on the blue colored "Jason Parker" just below, to read them. Many of you email me each week with your compliments about my stories. In my business travels I then sometimes satisfy those same reader's needs to be spanked by an old fashioned Dad.)