I was eleven years old, going on twelve, when my Dad was in the market for a new car. I liked going around with him to look at the different models, so for a number of Saturdays and some weeknights, too, we had visited various dealerships. It was late summer, and he was looking for a good deal, so we visited and revisited a lot of the same places.

That particular Saturday, we had been out for a few hours. It was hot, and I was getting tired and bored. I was wearing tennis shoes, a Polo-shirt, and some light-weight pants with an elastic waistband. We were at the Pontiac place, where we'd been a couple times before over the last few weeks, in the showroom, where there a number of the latest cars, plus a desk and

some potted plants and a couple padded benches, along with two or three display racks that had brochures and magazines and things like that on them.

My Dad was poking around the engine of one of the cars with its hood

propped up, and I was kind of hanging around. There was another kid there about my age--his name was Steven, if I remember right. I don't know exactly how many people were there at the time--more than a half dozen, for sure,

maybe as many as a dozen--customers and salesmen: a couple of college kids looking at one of the sports cars, Steven's mom and dad, another couple, maybe another man or two just out looking. Anyway, Steven and I got to talking, and it wasn't too long before we were horsing around a little. He was a dark-haired kid, a little bigger physically than me. We were having fun, and one of the saleman had shota couple nasty looks at us, but nothing was said, and my Dad seemed to be concentrating on that engine. I had some kind of brochure in my hand, and Steven ripped it away and began to run backwards, kind of waving it in my

face. I took out after him, and we dashed by one of those display racks and...CRASH! Down it came, scattering the glossy brochures and magazines all overthe place. Both Steven and I were just standing there kind of stunned, and the whole place was dead silent. I looked up, and there were a couple salesmen converging on where we were, but that wasn't what I noticed. My Dad was headed my way, too, and he had on a face that would have frozen vinegar. Everything was happening so fast I didn't even have time to react.I felt my Dad grab me by the neck of my polo-shirt and all of a sudden I was being propelled over toward one of those benches and then I knew what was

going to happen and right then, I started to bawl. Sure enough, he planted himself on the bench and swung me off the floor and over his knee almost in one motion. I was already wiggling like a worm, but it didn't do any good. I felt his hand at the waistband of my pantsand then both my slacks and my little jockeys were about halfway down my thighes. My eleven year old bottom was bare and cracking a smile to everybody in that showroom! And then WHACK! His hand came down. And WHACK! It came down again. And again! And again...!

Like I said, I was already squalling good when the first smack fell,and it only got louder and wilder as the spanking went on. My sneakers were flying around in the air and I was bouncing and squirming like crazy. My

little fanny was on fire, but that wasn't the worst of it. Steven was watching me get a spanking , and his Mom and Dad, and the salesmen, and everyone else there.

I don't think I got more than a few dozen pops or so, which wasn't that

many for me to get when Dad was mad. Still, my bare bottom was in flamesand I was crying to beat the band. But the worst part, of course, was having

that audience there witnessing every smack and squeal. After one last, hard smack, my Dad pulled me up and shook me and shouted, "Now get out to the car!" and you can bet I hightailed it out there, trying to rub my flaming

fanny and get it covered up at the same time. Just imagine watching a soundly spanked and thoroughly embarrassed little boy dashing out of the Pontiac dealership trying to pull his pants up.

Anyhow, I jumped in the back seat and locked the doors and cried my little eyes out for about ten minutes. Sure my rear end was sore. But more than that, in my head, I kept thinking about how Steven had seen my bare bottom squirming, along with his Mom and any other ladies there, plus hisDad and the salesman. I'd certainly never been so ashamed in my young life! A little later, I sat up. Soon after, Steven and his parents came out. It didn't look like anything had happened to him at all! He was walkinga little behind his parents, and looking around. Even though I was slumping way down in the seat, he spotted me. Then, the little bastard looked right at me, got a big grin on his face, and rubbed his hand up and down on the

seat of his pants. I bet he was one of those kids who had "progressive" parents and never got a spanking in his life.

My Dad finally came out and got in the car. I was still hiccoughinga little, and he sort of growled: "Pipe down, or I'll really give you something to cry about!" You can bet I shut up fast. I sure didn't want to get it

again there in the parking lot, and I was still afraid I might get another spanking when we got home. Dad had decided I'd been punished enough, though, or so it seemed. When we got home, he sent me to my room, and that was the end of that episode, though far from my last spanking!