What follows chronicles further encounters of an overgrown brat's bare bottom with men who recognize the needs of boys who misbehave, regardless of their age. Since the writing of the original report, I have had further opportunity to understand that there are a large number of mature individuals who are only too willing to take me in hand and teach me the hard lesson of real, old-fashioned discipline. The following are the latest additions to my list of MEN WHO SPANK!
TERRY AND RICK: Ages: 33 and 23p Occupations: Teacher; Grad Student Descriptions: Terry--6', 165 lbs., brown hair, bearded, slim, hairy
p Rick--5'10", 180 lbs., blond, smooth, square build
Terry and Rick are a gay couple who enjoy employing the bare bottom discipline of a bad boy as an enhancement to their lovemaking. Though Terry claims this interest in primarily Rick's, both are extremely enthusiastic and severe spankers. Discipline in their house begins in the living room. Terry sends me to the corner and orders me to drop my pants. As I stand there, he and Rick cuddle and discuss how I am to be disciplined. Finally, one--usually Rick--pulls me from the corner and turns me across his knee. He uses his hand at first on the seat of my jockeys, then gives me a "wedgie" so my underpants are gathered tightly in the crack of my bottom. Early on, he likes to use an 18" ruler on my bare cheeks, as he and Terry joke that I look like a naughty schoolboy getting what he deserves. By this time, Rick has a big hard-on in his jeans, and Terry has his fly unzipped and is beating off as he watches Rick spank me.
Rick and Terry then take turns punishing my fanny. Terry favors paddles, while Rick likes to use a leather strap and hairbrushes. Sometimes, one holds me over his knee while the other delivers the discipline to my bare bottom. Rick also likes to play a "game" with a small paddle or hairbrush where he smacks one cheek and then the other and I must keep track of how many whacks I have gotten on each bun. If I lose count, he starts over. Between spankings, I am sent to the corner where I must stand with my nose to the wall and my fanny protruding. Sometimes, while I am there, Rick and Terry each picks up a paddle and both smack my bottom at the same time.
After a a considerable period of discipline, Rick and Terry are very horny and one or the other announces: "It's time to go upstairs." I know that means to step out of my pants and undershorts, since, as Terry says, "only men in this house get to wear their pants upstairs." Each of them takes a couple spanking implements, usually paddles and hairbrushes, though Rick sometimes like to carry the "Mastercraftsman" carpenter belt. In the bedroom upstairs, each takes his turn sitting on the bed and pulling me across his knee. They usually have big hard-ons and are very turned on, so the paddlings are often very severe. Both especially get hot seeing the other make me kick my legs frantically. When I am out of the corner, Terry and Rick put their underwear on. Though I can see their _d_i_c_k_s, I am never allowed to see their asses. In between spankings, I must keep my nose to the wall, though sometimes, as they are playing with each other's butts or sucking, I am encouraged to rub my bottom or stick fingers up my boyhole. They continue to alternately play and spank me until they both come. After that, each one gives me one final blistering, which results in my fanny being spanked raw. In their discipline, Terry and Rick have broken a paddle over my bottom and several times reduced me to tears.
MR. PETERSON: Age: 36p
Occupation: Teacher Description: 5'7"; 200 lbs.; fair skin, brown hair
When I am with Mr. Peterson, the equation is the following: "Bare bottom + hairbrush =3D discipline." Punishment occurs in both the living room and the bedroom. Mr. Peterson is a stickler for punctuality, and I am almost always late. He lets me in and we go to the living room. There, he has me me pull my pants down to my ankles in front of him and he lectures me about being on time and other matters. He reaches over and pulls down my undershorts. I then have to go across the room, where there is a desk with a pen and pad, and write out five reasons why I should be spanked. There is no chair, so I have to bend over to write, and my bottom is displayed to Mr. Peterson. After I presented the pad to Mr. Peterson, I am punished for each of the infractions listed. He likes me bent over--his knee, the hassock, or, upstairs, the bed. Whacks sometimes have to be counted out, or other times are simply delivered quickfashion to my squirming fanny. As he spanks me, Mr. Peterson lectures me about my misdeeds, and makes me admit again and again that I have misbehaved and need to be spanked. Like with many other men who spank, I have to stand in the corner between sessions of discipline. Mr. Peterson has explained that this is part of my punishment. He has mentioned some other men he knows who are also interested in the discipline of overgrown boys, and has indicated one or more of them may be in attendence at a future discipline session.
"COACH" JOHN: Age: 32p Occupation: Hospital Administrator Description: 5'7"; 140 lbs.; Greek ancestry, black hair, brown eyes.
"Coach" John has a particular fantasy that he likes. When I see him, I knock at the front door and then enter (as instructed). When he hears me come in, he says, "I'm in the back office." I go back to the dining room. He is sitting at the table working. When he sees me, he says, "Well, we both know why you're here." He reaches behind him and takes two paddles out of a drawer in the cabinet behind him. He motions me over, and says, "assume the position." That means for me to grab my ankles. He then takes a frat paddle and gives me ten to twenty firm swats on the seat of my pants. Then he says: "Drop 'em!" I open my pants and let them fall to my ankles. Then--WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!--ten to twenty more to the seat of my shorts=2E "Bare 'em!" Coach John shouts, and I obediently peel my jockeys down to mid-thigh. Ten to twenty more strokes crack across my bare bottom, and by that time my "Ows" and "Ouches" are coming out in a high volume indeed.
Coach John sits down and growls: "Get over here!" I bend across his lap, and he picks up the small paddle, and lights into my naked fanny. There are no breaks. He gives me a straight, ongoing, constant spanking till he is satisfied I have learned my lesson. I can squeal, beg, and cry, and it makes no difference. He will spank me till he has taught me to behave. The only way I know things are over is when he says: "Okay, up against the wall, now!" I go and stand bare bottom with my hands braced against the wall while he beats off looking at my throbbing rear end. When he is finished, he says: "Okay, now get along." Then I leave.
Getting punished by Coach John usually takes between a half hour and forty five minutes.
DADDY MIKE: Age: 38p
Occupation: Sculptor
Description: 5'10", 230 lbs., reddish-blond hair, green eyes.
Daddy Mike looks like a biker daddy--pony tail, beard, overalls; a big man with a hard hand. As soon as I arrived at his house, he led me into the living room and bent me over the back of a chair. He gave me a quick twenty swats on the seat of my shorts with his hand, then twenty more with a hairbrush. Then he yanked both my shorts and my underpants down and repeated the process on my bare fanny. Then he pulled me into the bedroom and took me across his knee in front of the mirror over the bureau. Just Daddy's Mike's hand is calloused and big enough to sting plenty, but he also had a ping-pong paddle, a wide, thin leather belt, and, of course, the oblong wooden hairbrush. Each of these were used successively over the two hours we were together. Occasionally, he would stop spanking me when my bottom got really red and rub an ice cube over my blistered buns to take the pink out. When they were cooled down to his satisfaction, the discipline would start again. Daddy Mike had a couple of special techniques. One was trapping my knees under his left leg so that my buns were pressed tight together. Then he would whack with his hand from up underneath my cheeks, so rather than straight on, the slaps were coming from bottom to top, a sure way to make a boy feel every one. Too, when he used the hairbrush, between sessions, he would make me stand up, stick my fanny out, and "ride the bristles," rubbing them sharply up and down my crack, over my boyhole and balls. It drove me crazy--hurting so bad and feeling good at the same time. By the time the two hours were over, I had a very sore, swollen fanny. At the end, Daddy Mike put on a glove and rammed three fingers up my hole and demanded I beat off. It didn't take me long to cum, especially with the encouragement of an occasional whack with the hairbrush or his hand. If we get together again, it will be with a couple of his Daddy buddies. I had suggested another boy, but Daddy Mike wants to feature my rear end with others who appreciate the virtues of giving, not getting, a good, hard spanking.
Mr. Wellstein: Age:75p Occupation: Principal(retired) Description: 5'10", 165 lbs., gray hair
Mr. Wellstein has been spanking misbehaving boys since before I was born. Just as youth is no impediment to being a man who spanks, neither is age. Mr. Wellstein is old, but when it comes to discipline, he is strong and assured. He took me over his knee on the sofa and, after applying his hand and the hairbrush briskly to the seat of my pants, pulled down my pants and undershorts to the middle of my thighes and demonstrated the technique he used to use on high school and junior high school boys of the forties and fifties. He gave me one of the hardest hand spankings I have had in a long time, a long, drawn-out fanny slapping to remind this brat that a man doesn't need any instruments to set a bare fanny ablaze. After that initial punishment, he alternately used his hand, the hairbrush, and a thick, doubled belt to thoroughly redden my rear end. Squirming and kicking were to no avail--Mr. Wellstein held me firmly across his lap and punished my deserving bottom three different times, using each instrument in succession. During breaks, I was sent to the corner or had to stand in front of him with my pants down. After setting my fanny on fire, for the finale, Mr. Wellstein bent me over the back of the straightback chair and used the hairbrush and belt to blister my bare buns This was how he punished junior and senior boys who were too big to go over his knee. Dancing there over the back of the chair, yelping and whimpering, I could imagine there were men in their fifties and sixties today who still remember the 'impression' Mr. Wellstein made upon their young behinds when they were back in high school. YE-OUCH!!!
This is the end--for now--of "More MEN WHO SPANK!" Along with the original report, I have described to you twelve men dedicated to the practice of strict, bare-bottom spanking. All of them I have met between 2 September and 10 May. I assume a number of them with continue spanking me over the coming months.
In this time, my fanny has been exposed for punishment on 22 different occasions by men ranging in age from 21 to 75. I have had to grab my ankles, bend over chairs, beds, hassocks, benches and bathtubs, and most especially been turned across men's knees with my nose to the ground and my rump in the air. I have had to stand in the corner, write lines, and do chores--all with my pants down. My bare bottom has felt the slap of a man's palm, the burn of the belt, the whack of the paddle, the sting of the hairbrush, along with the distinctive pain of the riding crop, the ruler, the switch and a kitchen spoon. I have bucked and bounced, wiggled and squirmed, thrashed and kicked, pleaded and begged, whimpered and cried. None of these stopped these men from delivering to my misbehaving behind the strict punishment I deserved.
This summer, I will be traveling east. Here in the Midwest, obviously, there are many men who believe if you spare the rod, you spoil the boy, that boys--no matter what their age--should be aware there are men very capable of pulling down their pants and spanking their bare bottoms good and red if they need it. I hope, in a few months, to be able to report that that philosophy is true in the northeast as well, and I become acquainted with even more MEN WHO SPANK!
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