I'm sitting on a thick soft pillow as I write this. I'm sure that you can guess why I'm using the pillow.
Yes, you got it in one – I've been spanked. Spanked hard. Strapped actually. Strapped with good cause to teach me an important lesson which, I hope, I won't soon forget so the bad consequences are avoided and that it does not have to be repeated. It's what has happened in my family for generations: a misdeed causes a meeting between father and son moderated with hand, strap or paddle on the relevant butt.
In this case the misdeed was a lack of trust. There was a lack of trust between father and son when another's misdeed was wrongfully attributed and the denial was rejected in favor of the outsider's false report. It was not important whether or not the falseness was intentional or not. What was important was that the report of the misdeed caused a spanking. An unfair spanking. An undeserved spanking. Even worse was that there was resentment weakening family bonds.
* * * * * * * * * *
That fateful day, Harlan came home from school most unhappy because he was bearing a nastygram from school. The missive stated that Harlan and two other boys had been seen bullying another student and as the alert teacher approached the three miscreants had run off. Although the bullied boy did not tell, the teacher was sure of her identification. It finished with a request to take appropriate disciplinary action and to send back a signed copy.© YLeeCoyote
Harlan was extremely outranged at the whole affair. "I wasn't there! I don't bully! And I don't even know the victim." he insisted. He could not offer any reason why the teacher had accused him but swore that he was innocent. Most regrettably, I accepted the note at face value and despite my son's fervent pleas to investigate further decided to spank him. I even decided that he would get extra for lying.
He had tears in his eyes from the emotional pain I inflicted as he slowly stripped for his spanking. I could hear him muttering that I was not fair as he dutifully obeyed me. I took him over my lap and got a good grip on his waist. I could not help but notice how much bigger his bottom was than the first time I spanked him when he was but a little lad of only six and half – just half his current age. I realized that soon he would soon have to graduate to the paddle from the old leather slipper that I had advanced him to a couple of years ago. I raised up the slipper and brought it down hard on his upturned butt. It made a fearful sound and I continued to spank away for several minutes. Harlan did not cry this time even though I was spanking him harder than in the past. When I had finished and got him up he did not hug me and cry on my shoulder as he usually does for comfort but ran to his room. He had enough control not to slam the door but I heard him snap the lock. He was silent during dinner and immediately went off to his room to sulk and presumably do some homework before bed.
I was not happy with his behavior but I cut him some slack because I had just spanked him extra hard. He continued to give me the cold shoulder as much as a young teen could afterwards. That was something he had not done in the past.
* * * * * * * * * *
It was four days later that he brought home another note. "I told you so." he snarled as he handed it to me. I quickly opened it. I was shocked. It was an apology from the school. Harlan was innocent of the bullying charge! It was a case of mistaken identity. I immediately apologized and said I was terribly sorry.
"SORRY JUST DOES NOT CUT IT, FATHER." he growled and ran off to his room.
A little while latter, I went to him. I really did not know what to say or do but I hoped that talking with him might help. He was most upset not for the spanking but because I failed by not believing him. It certainly was very lame but I explained that we all make mistakes – even fathers. That did not mollify him even one tiny bit.
I was desperate since I did have any idea of what I could do to heal the breach with my dear son.
It was a day later that I got an email from Harlan. It was brief for it was without greeting, salutation or close containing only a web link and the subject "READ". Of course, I immediately checked it out. I was dumbfounded. It was about something I had never heard of – a site about spanked parents. More precisely, parents spanked by their own minor children for discipline. Some of the reports even indicated that the kids were in full charge all the time. That seemed a bit extreme to me but others were more moderate with the adults being subject to corporal punishment only when they were naughty. They were being held to the same or higher standards of conduct than kids who were in regular families with comparable corporal punishments for failure.
I let Harlan explain what he had in mind. It was pretty much what I had anticipated – that I had to own up to my inexcusable conduct and accept appropriate punishment – from him.
Harlan was well prepared for the discussion. It was very simple (as he saw it). I had not trusted him nor been open to investigating false charges and rushed to unjustly punishing him. He reminded me that if he had acted that way, I certainly would have punished him, therefore, it was plain as the nose on your face that he should punish me. I couldn't find any loophole to crawl through so I was forced to agree with him or drive him even away. Just like he had to do a few days before, now I was required to prepare to receive corporal punishment.
Slowly, I stripped to my birthday suit. I was glad that we were not overly modest in the house and he had seen me naked at the beach just a few months ago. When I was ready, Harlan took the belt from my trousers and had me get into position leaning on the bed with my butt as a high up target. He folded the belt and found the proper position to teach me a lesson.
Harlan did not waste time with any preliminaries or warm up. He just raised the belt and brought it down as hard as he could on my upraised butt. (I know that because he told me afterwards.) Over and over he raised my own heavy, leather belt and brought it crashing down on my tail. In the most simple of terms, it fucken' hurt. It had been more than two decades since I was last strapped when I was a teenager by my father and I had forgotten how much it hurt. I wish that I could tell you that I took it stoically without yelling or crying but, alas, that would not be true. I yelled and eventually cried as I was justly and thoroughly punished by my mature thirteen-year-old son. Apparently, it is much easier to be stoic when you are being unjustly punished but I knew that I needed to pay and repent for my sins. "TAKE IT LIKE A MAN" he yelled at me obviously disappointed with my juvenile reactions.
Eventually, Harlan stopped strapping me and took me into his arms and held me as I cried. I almost did not want to stop crying for it was so wonderful to be close to my son once again that I did not want it to stop. I even liked the comforting. As he held me, I confessed my transgression and promised never again just like a well-punished boy always does when he realizes that he behaved improperly and is truly repentant. I expected that things will be getting back to normal now for Harlan has forgiven me.