The following story is fiction about paddling and strapping male butts. The story contains scenes of paddling and strapping. If these subjects are offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please leave now.
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It was an accident. Things like this are always accidents. Accidents happen and nobody was hurt. Well, that is what Thad and I thought.
But his father, Mr. Teston, did not see it that way at all. "I've told you boys not to play ball in the house many times because things can get broken but you did not listen. Now YOU BROKE the hall light and there is a mess." he yelled. "Get the broom and clean it up and be careful. Be sure to get under everything to get ALL the glass."
Thad and I did as he said (this time) and cleaned it all up. But that was not the end of it. Certainly not by a long shot. "Thad, what is the penalty when you disobey me like you did today?"
"A spanking, Father." my buddy responded quietly and unhappily. We both knew what was next and Thad quickly fetched the paddle.
"Drop 'em and position boy." ordered Mr. Teston. Thad quickly did as he was told. He dropped his jeans and undies and assumed the position.© YLeeCoyote
Mr. Teston found his right spot and started paddling him. Very quickly Thad's tail turned red and then deep crimson from the onslaught of the heavy oak fraternity paddle. Thad was sobbing when he stopped. I thought that it was a more severe whacking than Thad had ever told me about. Later, he would confirm it.
What happened next, I was not expecting. "Morgan, your turn, get into position, boy." I wanted to run and hide but that would have been wrong and useless. I just dropped my pants and brief and replaced Thad. Mr. Teston made sure of my position by touching my butt with the paddle. It was ten seconds later that I learnt exactly how a heavy oak fraternity paddle can fill a boy's body with extreme pain. At least the dentist tries to reduce the pain. The thought immediately disappeared with the second whack which hurt even more and obviously commanded my full attention. Thad's descriptions were not even close to the reality of what I felt.
Over and over that paddle struck my tail hard and soon I was crying from the pain. I was sure that my ass was glowing like the red lights at the railroad crossing. I hurt far too much to think much about it. Mr. Teston talked about listening to what he told us and warned that next time would be worse.
* * * * * * * * * *
Dad noticed that I was fidgeting at the table during dinner but did not say anything until later. When he saw my behind he was positively, absolutely enraged. I had to tell what had happened. "How dare that beast assault you?" he yelled. He took several pictures.
He dragged me to the car and in a few minutes we were at the Teston's house. He did not wait for an invitation to enter but just barged in when the door was opened.
Mr. Teston explained that he had paddled both Thad and I for disobedience and pointed out the broken fixture. Dad was not really interested in the back story. Only one thing was on his mind. Mr. Teston had beaten me. Assaulted me. Injured me for by now I was turning black and blue.
"I treated him no differently than my own son, Mr. Mayhorn. They were both extremely, disobedient naughty boys and got spanked just like they deserved." said the paddler.
Dad was not having any of it. He was one track now. He was yelling. "YOU HAD NO RIGHT TO BEAT MY SON! He has BRUISES! You have committed ASSAULT AND BATTERY! Serious crimes!"
Mr. Teston said he just spanked two naughty boys and that was not criminal. Dad disagreed and said he was going to press charges and he was certain it was a felony that rated prison time. He even had me exhibit my most colorful butt. They argued a while and then came to an agreement.
Mr. Teston said he would never beat me again. He would take a paddling right now in exchange for Dad not pressing charges.
The next thing I knew was that Mr. Teston was dropping his pants and undies and was bending over while Dad held the paddle at the ready.
Then it started. The whacks were louder than I remember from when Thad was bent over. Was that because Dad was stronger or because Mr. Teston had held back? I'm not sure. I doubt that it matters.
Both Thad and I watched intently. One does not get to see a father whacked very often. Just like Thad's tail had turned red, so did his father's bigger butt. And it even got deep red faster because Dad was hitting it harder than Mr. Teston had whacked Thad's.
We returned home. Dad warned me that I had better behave properly.
* * * * * * * * * *
I was good for the next few months and Dad apparently noticed for when I got a failing test report we had another discussion in my room. It was after dinner that Dad came to my room to talk about it. He was not happy about it to say the least. I was not happy to see what he was carrying.
I had to strip and assume the position just like before. Dad found the right position and began to swing the strap he had gotten to beat me with. It was more effective than his hand and even his belt had been in the past.
I was soon crying like a baby from the pain. "I strongly suggest that you behave properly, Morgan. I doubt that you want a repeat of this."
Dad was absolutely right about that. That strap hurt like the blazes. I got into bed and cried myself to sleep. I was prone, of course.
There was one difference, however, from that vicious fraternity paddle. Although I still hurt from the strapping, I was not bruised. In the morning I had to put a hook inside my closet door to hang the strap. It now lives on the back of the door where I can see it every day as a reminder. Dad says if he needs it frequently it will move to be on the outside as a better reminder to me (and my friends).
I resolved to behave properly. I hope I can. I don't want to feel that strap again.
* * * * * * * * * *
It was a few months later that Thad and I messed up again. He was sleeping over and we had gone to a movie. Stupidly, we hung out and missed our curfew getting back home. Dad called Mr. Teston and asked him what he preferred – Thad be sent home, picking him up or being treated to the strap just as I was about to be. Thad was not sure which would be worse – being paddled at home or strapped here. He did not have a choice, however.
"Just treat them the same, Mr. Mayhorn." Mr. Teston responded immediately.
The next thing we knew, we both Thad and I were naked and leaning over the bed while Dad held the strap. We each got a dozen, well-laid on strokes as they say in the old sailing ship stories. They hurt like hell and left our asses bright red and in agony. We were not, however, bruised.
© Copyright A.I.L. December 20, 2017
The URL for this page is: https://yleecoyote.asslr.org/PaddlesButtsandCrimes.html
Last updated: September 15, 2023