Greg and I were class mates, then friends, while we were in school. He was a lot better student than I, going to class, studying all kinds of hours, and preparing for all classes. He tried all kinds of ways to get me to be a better student, from encouragement to nagging. One night, we were having a few beers, well actually more than a few, and discussing school and our habits, and I told Greg that I just couldn't do it like he could. He said that was ridiculous and that I could do as well if I had the proper motivation and that I just didn't have good study habits. After some more, we got into a bet. We bet a good bundle of bucks that he could get me to get just as good as grades as he got if I did exactly what he told me to do. If I didn't do what he said, I lost the bet. If I did everything he said and didn't get better grades, I won. To start off, Greg gave me a detailed list of study things to accomplish by the next evening, when we were supposed to meet at his house to prepare for a class project.

When I showed up at Greg's house, needless to say I hadn't done all of the things on the list, although I had done many of them. Greg wanted to know why I hadn't done everything he told me. I told him I guess the bet wasn't working out. He said to remember that I agreed to do anything that he told me. I told him I forgot to do part of it. Greg said he was going to help me remember to do the rest of it, and asked me to follow him. We went upstairs to his bedroom, and Greg left me in this room and left for a few minutes When he returned, he had a wooden paddle in hand. I knew that his dad had been a high school coach and that Greg and his brother had been paddled with his paddle when they did something wrong. So I thought he was bringing in the paddle to show it to me. We had once had an argument about spanking kids. Greg thought a paddle should be used and was more intimidating than a belt. In fact, he thought it was wrong to spank kids with a belt and was degrading. Anyway, here was Greg with the paddle in hand, telling me that this was indeed the paddle used on him in the past. It was a fraternity type paddle, about 2 feet long, and 4 inches wide. Then to my surprise, Greg told me to turn around and grab my ankles. I must of looked really surprised because he told me that he was going to give me twelve swats with the paddle for not doing what he told me. My choice was to take the swats or pay up the bundle on the bet. After a moments thought, I bent over and WHAM He gave me the first of 12 really hard swats. I didn't yell or anything, just took the twelve swats even though they hurt like hell. Since I had my jeans up and everything, it was really like getting paddled at school. Greg put the paddle in his dresser and told me to be prepared for our next study session, a few days later.

A few days later, I was not prepared as Greg would like. "Why didn't you get everything done I told you, didn't it hurt when I paddled you?" he asked. I didn't respond so Greg told me we were going to go upstairs and get the paddle out again. Once again, we went up the stairs to his bedroom, he opened the dresser drawer and took out the paddle, and told me to bend over. WHAM. Twelve hard swats, again delivered over my jeans. Once more, I was instructed what to do for the next study session.

Well, one of us was going something wrong, since for the month, every 3 to 4 days, I would go to Greg's house, he would find something wrong with my preparation, and it would be upstairs and out with the paddle. There was one afternoon, though, when it was a little different. This time he stopped before he told me to bend over. "Okay, take your pants down." We had some discussion. His dad had never paddled him on his underpants and I didn't think it was fair to do it to me. I lost the argument and ended up taking my jeans down and standing there in my jockey shorts in front of Greg. Holding the paddle in his hand, Greg said, "Turn around and bend over." I did as I was told, and WHACK! The difference the jeans made was a lot. I couldn't really believe how much it stung to get hit with his paddle just on my underpants. After two shots, I stood up. Greg said that was a mistake, he'd add five swats for getting up, and then just start over. So I bent down, and made it through the first five, then the whole twelve swats, although I didn't cry out a lot, my eyes were watering some when he was done. Greg told me to pull my pants up, and gave me my instructions for our next session.

Once again, although this time thought I had done what he wanted, I found myself marching upstairs behind him and into the bedroom. I was told to take my pants down and the paddle came out of the drawer. WHACK WHACK twelve hard swats, eyes watering, really sort butt. This happened a few more times. Finally, at the end of one session, Greg had something different to say. I was told it was going to be a lot worse unless I made substantial improvement. I told Greg it was all up to him and it wasn't fair. He could always paddle me no matter how much work I did. Greg thought for a minute. "Okay, let's be fair. Day after tomorrow, we have a test. You get an A, and I'll be satisfied. If you get less than a A, you have failed and get you know what." I couldn't argue with that although it still didn't seem what I had bargained for in the beginning.

After we took the test, I was really worried. I didn't think I did that well and was afraid of the consequences. A couple of days later, Greg and I met at a bar near school to have a few beers. He had already picked up the tests and had the test scores. He handed me my test and I had gotten a C-. He didn't look pleased. We talked about what to do over a few more beers. I said it wasn't working. Greg looked sort of ticked. "It isn't working because you are not working hard enough. So I am going to have to work harder on what I do. Maybe you have been right all along. The paddle may not be as good as the belt." I asked him what he meant. "I mean we're going to leave in a minute and go to my house, when we get there, I am going to take you upstairs and this time, instead of spanking you with the paddle, I am going to whip you with my belt." With that, Greg reached down and grabbed his edges of his belt between his thumb and forefinger. "This belt right here" I looked at the belt as he gestured. It was a pretty heavy belt and I thought it would really hurt if he went through on this threat to whip me with it. "I am going to whip you with it until you can't sit down for a week. Then we'll see what grade you'll get". I tried arguing with him but his mind was made up. After a few minutes, he said it was a time to go and pay the piper. When we got to our cars, he told me to follow him and stay close behind. I followed him all the way to his house. When we got there, we went inside. As soon as he shut the front door, he slowly unbuckled the belt and pulled it off. It looked even heavier once he got it off. Greg's belt was a brown leather belt, maybe two inches wide. Greg doubled it up and held it up for me to see. "Are you ready for the belt?" . I told Greg I would like to talk to him before he started so we went into the living room. I sat on the couch at one end and he sat at the other, laying his doubled up belt on the coffee table. I tried for a few minutes to convince him not to use the belt and suggested he try the paddle a few more times. "So, I was right about the paddle?" he asked, with a small smile. I said he was. With that, Greg stood up and picked the belt up. "Well, let's do an experiment and see, lets go". We marched up the stairs, Greg in front. I couldn't take my eyes off of his belt which he was carrying by his side. When we got to his bedroom, Greg went over and pulled the chair from his desk out to the middle of the room. "Take your pants down" he said solemnly. I dropped my jeans and stood there. "Okay, bend over the back of the chair, and grab the seat and hold on." I bent over the back of his chair and grabbed the seat, so I was pretty well positioned for what he wanted to do. Once I was in position, I could still see him standing behind me. The Greg took a really good swing and brought the belt down, hitting me on the right side of my butt. WHACK. "Ow!" I said, involuntarily. Greg didn't pay attention to me, but raised the belt up and brought it down hard again, this time right across the center, hitting both cheeks. WHACK. After the third swat, I stood up, immediately realizing it was a mistake. "Oh," Greg said, 'You know what that means?" I nodded. "Bend over again. We start all over, and I'm adding five strokes each time you get up." I bend back over and Greg quickly delivered five really hard slashes, WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK one after another without any pause. "Okay, let's start." Greg went back to his measured pace, a hard stroke followed by a pause. I couldn't get up for fear I could get more, but after a few more licks I began asking him, begging him to quick, promising him I would study as long as he wanted if he stopped. "Be quiet!" WHACK Greg kept it up, maybe five seconds between each stroke, each stroke well placed and hard. Finally, he got to 12 swats after the five for getting up. He stopped. I started to get up. "What are you getting up for. This is not the paddle. It doesn't stop with twelve swats. Now, you're getting five more for getting up and then I'll continue" I bent back over and got the quick five. Then he started it with his paced strokes again. I got another dozen hard strokes with the belt. My eyes were more than watering by the time Greg stopped. He told me I could get up and pull my pants up. As I did that, he asked what I felt I had learned. I told him not enough and I wanted to go home and start studying. He laughed. To the surprise of both of us, we didn't have another spanking or whipping the next time we got together. I had done everything he told me. In fact, the whipping with the belt seemed to "take" pretty good because I kept up with the stuff he gave me for a month or two. Of course, it wasn't permanent. Every couple months, I would slip up. But at the slightest hint, Greg would quickly pull off his belt, take me upstairs, have me take my pants down, and lay into me. So while I saw Greg's belt from time to time, we didn't see the paddle again.