It was one summer day and I had been off school for about a month. Finally finished with my Freshman year I was waiting to become a Sophomore and no longer be the youngest at the school. Though I was free from school, summer gave me more work with my dad assigning me more chores to do now that I had more time. Among the chores were various cleaning and maintainence work that he didn't have time to do on the weekends. The biggest chores, things like mowing the lawn were chores I had been doing during school, but now had no excuse not to do them. As a result, my dad implemented a strict discipline system by which I would receive punishment for missed chores. Each chore was assigned a punishment, usually grounding or additional chores, that I would receive when I didn't complete a chore by the deadline.

Most chores resulted in punishments of as little as a lecture to up to two weeks grounded. Some, however, larger jobs that had more time to complete carried a more severe punishment. Neglecting jobs such as mowing the lawn and cleaning my room resulted in a spanking. Being almost a sixteen year old, my father felt that spanking was not particularly acceptable for me, but it worked, so should I not complete a chore that was on the "spank list", my butt was to suffer.

On this particular day, my friends were over and we were playing around the house. It had just turned 4:00 and we flipped on the television to see what was happening. It was about fifteen minutes later when I realized that it was Friday, and the lawn was to be done by the time my father returned from work on Friday afternoon. Quickly, I asked my friends to leave as I started up the lawn mower and did the front lawn first, hoping my father would see it was done when he arrived.

I had just started going round the back of the house when my dad turned the corner and began to pull in to the driveway. He didn't look too pleased, but got out of the car and asked me how my day was. I gave the standard "okay" response, and he progressed to ask me why I hadn't done the lawn yet:

"Wasn't this supposed to be completed before I got home?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, I got caught up doing something else."

"You've had since Wednesday."

"I know. I said I was sorry. It'll never happen again" I said, trying desperately to avoid any possible punishment. A few seconds passed, and I couldn't help myself, so I asked:

"Am I going to be punished? I did get most of it done before you got back."

"There will be a punishment becuase the rule is that you finish your chores by the deadlines. You broke a rule, which results in some sort of punishment." he replied.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"We'll discuss this during dinner. Finish your work." he said

"Yes, sir." I replied, quietly, saddened by the news of an impending punishment.

I finally finished doing the lawn and went inside, washed up, and sat down to dinner. My father spoke first, and we began to discuss what I did and what my punishment would be. After a ten-minute lecture or so, the word came out.

"Your punishment will have to be some sort of spanking. I can't put up with you not doing your chores on time."

"But it's the first time in a while that it's happened" I said.

"That doesn't matter. The associated punishment with not doing the lawn by the deadline is a spanking."

He instructed me that after dinner I was to go to my room and wait for him. Just as if I were grounded, I went to my room immediately after dinner and did not turn on my television or the radio. After about twenty minutes, my dad came up and gave me another lecture about getting spanked for what I did, and how it wasn't going to be easy for me. It was at this point that I just wished he would spank me and get the whole thing over with.

"You are to be in the living room in ten minutes, wearing the acceptable clothing" he instructed.

It had been a couple years since I had been spanked, but I still remembered that only a tee-shirt, socks, and boxer shorts were permitted during the session. Two years ago I had received ten strokes with a paddle for lying about my grades on a report card, so I knew the spanking routine. An interesting side note, my father put so much faith into that wooden paddle that he named it the "Attitude Adjuster," after its intended job.

After stripping, only wearing my boxers (I neglected keeping my shirt on, as it wasn't going to aid me in reducing pain), I went downstairs to the living room and waited for my dad. He was in a garage, probably getting the paddle with which he would soon hit my bottom with. I began to grow very nurvous, worrying about the pain that the spanking would bring. I began to consider asking my dad to ground me for the rest of the summer in place of the spanking.

The waiting was growing unbearable, sitting in my oversized undershorts waiting for my dad to come in and spank me. Finally after another five or ten minutes, he returned from the garage and escorted me back into the garage.

"Let's take a little trip out to the garage for a session with the Attitude Adjuster" my dad said as he walked me out with his hand on my shoulder.

In the corner I could see the implements that he had used on me in the past: a small ping-pong paddle that he used on me until about age ten, then a good sized oak fraternity paddle which he had used on me from age ten to the present. Next to the two wooden implements hung an eight inch, 1.5 inch wide leather strap that he had never used -- only threatened with.

"Stand over by the lawn mower" my dad said.

I quickly walked over to the lawn mower and stood by it. Shaking now, about the anticipated pain I hold on to the lawn mower while my dad walks over to the other side of the room where the implements are located.

"You're almost sixteen." he said.

"Yes, sir." I replied.

"This is not going to be particularly enjoyable for you, but sixteen is of adequate age to switch the spanking implement. In a few minutes you will take twenty strokes with this leather strap."

"But dad..." I started whining.

"Keep talking and I add strokes" he bit back. "This is the third time I've had to discipline you for chores this month, and it's too much. You don't do the work, so now you're paying the consequences."

I was shocked, and extremely nurvous at this point. "Isn't there something we can work out? Twenty strokes with a strap is kinda' excessive" I sulked.

"Well, excessive maybe, but you are now up to twenty-five. Do you want to keep going?"

"No, sir. But..."

"Thirty"

I quickly shut up and just stood there quietly. I had just managed to add thirdy more strokes to my already hard spanking. To add insult to injury, the spanking which I thought was going to be given with a paddle is now going to be carried out with a leather strap -- a much more painful proposition. But, I guess it had to happen sometime, like my dad did say, I am now sixteen, and I guess that if I'm old enough to be getting spanked, I'm old enough to take it hard.

"Turn around and bend over the lawn mower. Hold on tight to the lawn mower and maintain your posture. If you move enough so that the next stroke of the spanking is affected, I will add five strokes and then start over. Is this understood?"

"Yes, sir." I said quickly, as I turned around and bent over the mower as ordered.

"After each stroke you will announce the number of the stroke. Failure to do so, and do so correctly will result in the addition of five strokes. The spanking will then resume. Is this understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"You may tell me when to begin with the first stroke. I will then give you all thirty strokes in succession."

Shaking now, I feel the cold leather strap against my boxer-covered butt ready to be applied.

"Sta.." I get choaked. "Start."

A brief second went by, and then...

CRACK! The first stroke of the spanking was applied.

"One" I said, in compliance with the before mentioned spanking terms.

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