"Time to go get out the old spanking chair!"
I cannot begin to tell you how many times Ive heard my Dad say those words, but I can tell you I utterly and totally hate those words with every part of my soul and being. Dad had a chair. He had that chair especially for me. And everybody who knew us well knew he had it too! It was lightwood, the kitchen type, and polished too. It was every shiny. And every single time he spanked me growing up – and it was a lot! – he sat in that one special chair when it was time to give it to me. I know every single grain and flaw in the wood on the under side of that chairs seat where he would be sitting and Ive be over his knees with his big hand on my underwear and ass and just waiting for him to pull them down and spank the hell out of me. I had lots of time over his knees looking at that wood while he would be telling me why he was spanking me. And he would have his hand on my buns while he was talking to me and there was nothing I could do but wait for him to do it either. And I was always real anxious waiting. When he would pull them down it was worse cause he would put his palm back on my buns and rum me around back there. I knew what he was seeing but all I could do was hand over his knees with his looking and talking and feeling. He never once spanked me without first pulling them down first either. He believed in tanning my bare bottom anytime he felt I needed it.
And he felt I needed it a lot!
Dad was a big man and a kind of a gruff one too, but he believed in routine and that routine when he spanked me never varied one bit. "Time to go get out the old spanking chair," he would say with a twinkle in his eye and a broad smile across his face as he looked right at me and then he would add, "OK, go get it out!"
And I would. I had no other choice. I would go down into the basement and get it out from the side of the wall and set it in the middle of the basement under a single bulb that would light up and give a bit of light to that old musty basement. We had an old carpet down there so that chair sat on the middle of it too. And I did not have to be told the rest of it cause I knew it by heart. I would take off all my clothes except my underwear and I would fold them neatly and put them on his workbench and then I had better be sitting down on the spanking chair in just my underwear when the old wooden stairs began creaking from his weight as he came down those basement steps to spank me. When I was a kid, I was terrified when he came down to spank me, but even when I was older and in high school it still scared me a lot!
My folks were old school. "When youre three times seven, you can do as you want but until then and as long as youre living under my roof, youll live by my rules." Yea, sure. His rules, but it was his spankings and that _d_a_m_n_ed "old spanking chair" that I hated the most!
Most of the guys I knew got restrictions and were grounded and sent to them room when they got to about fifteen, but not me. My dad would say, "A spankings what you need and a spankings what youre gonna get, now go get that chair out." Yea, I got spanked in high school. I actually turned down an athletic scholarship at the local university to go away to school mostly just to get away from him and that _d_a_m_n_ed chair.
But it didnt work.
The first semester I like came out in a big way and the freedom of weekend discos filled with other gay guys of all ages and shapes was awesome. I made LOTS of friends. Like too many. When I went home for Thanksgiving my Dad was anything but happy. Being gay was a non-issue, but grades and partying was a major issue. I got spanked.
From then on I knew I was missing something.
I have always liked older men and so when I found one older and very handsome and academic looking, I was in heaven. And he was dominant, a top for sure and that was what I wanted. Anyway, one night after wed had super _s_e_x_ during which hed playfully slapped my ass a few times, I told him about my dad and the way I was brought up. There was a twinkle or spark or something even I could see in the darkly lit bedroom that night. The next day after school he took me to "The Country Furniture Shoppe" where he asked me to show him the kind of chair my dad had in the basement back home. I thought we were just like joking and I did.
Then he bought it on the spot. The clerks wrapped it and it ended up tied down securely in the trunk of his big town car. When we got it home and I was the one to carry it in a put it in his house. It had not sat there where he told me to put it when he made it clear he had bought it for more than sentimental values for me. He hugged me and took all the clothes off me and a few minutes later, he christened his own spanking chair. _d_a_m_n_ he got into it too.
Im still living with him and I love him to death. We have a great relationship, but I still cringe when I hear him say, "Time to go get out the old spanking chair!"
Its hard to explain. I hate it; yet Im glad its there.
And hes already told me to ask my folks about our getting the old chair in my dads basement when they are no longer around. I did, but I was hugely embarrassed when I heard my own dad tell him directly that the chair would be ours and also tell him how to use it!
"Time to go get out the old spanking chair!" _d_a_m_n_!
Other guys you know of have this kind of experience with a chair?
Tom