The Last Time At 16

My dad always used his big black leather belt when he spanked me. The last spanking I got from him was at age 16. It was the only one I ever got in the garage. Usually it was bent over the end of his bed, although I did sometimes get it in the living room over the end of the couch or over the footstool and a variety of other places. But that last one was the only one in the garage.

Most people got their final spanking for something memorable. Sneaking out at night, taking the car without permission, smoking, getting drunk...something like that. I may be the only person in the world who got spanked at age 16 for popping my knuckles. In church. Several times he gave me that "you better cut that out right now, young man!" look but I stupidly ignored him and continued popping my knuckles.

I am lucky that he waited until we got home after church; it would've been just like him to take me out and spank me right there at church! In fact I remember being spanked at church more than once, but when I was younger. So I was lucky. But I certainly didn't think so at the time! When we got home from church we went in the house through the garage. I was surprised and confused when he stopped me and let my mom and younger brother go ahead into the house and he held me up in the garage. He started lecturing me about the disruption and disrespect of my popping my knuckles and ignoring him when he told me to stop. When the word "spanking" first entered the conversation I was shocked! I hadn't had a spanking from dad, despite many threats and warnings, for at least a year or two. I was way too old to get spanked! For goodness sake, I had my drivers license! I was a grown-*** man in my own estimation! But he was serious about it. Quickly I went from being cocky and dismissive of his lecture to begging and pleading with him not to spank me. I was not very stoic about spankings. Ever. I was crying long before my pants ever came down. But, eventually, they did indeed come down. Dad always made us take our pants off ourselves. Which was one of the hardest things I ever had to do- the humiliation of baring myself in front of my dad and, worse, knowing I was going to have to bend over and submit to him while he busted my ***! I begged and pleaded and promised I'd never do it again. I reminded him I was 16 years old. I told him no way was I going to let him spank me. But all the while I was (VERY slowly) doing as he told me. Because, after all, I was scared to death of the guy. So, like always, my pants came off. Then I folded them neatly and set them on the work bench. Thinking I was going to get away with it, but knowing I probably wasn't, I left my underpants on. Until he angrily reminded me to remove them as well. Slowly, ever so slowly, I hooked my thumbs in the waistband and slid them down and off, throwing them atop the slacks. Of course that resulted in him ordering me to turn back around again, walk over there and fold them nicely. I remember being so glad I had on a long dress shirt with tails as I felt a tiny bit of modesty in those tails covering my most private areas. But then I remember with such dread as my adolescent weiner, affected by the idea of the spanking, slowly parted the tails of the shirt and pointed itself up at my chin. I was absolutely mortified but as many of you will know, the more you think about NOT getting an erection as a teenager, the more likely you are to get one.

My pleading and crying continued, his lecture wound down and finally he told me to turn around and bend over the back of a folding chair. I remember so well the cold of that metal against my privates and stomach. He made me stand back up, move my legs further apart, reach down further, etc... the positioning for the spanking was always prolonged and while it did postpone the pain it heightened the humiliation. Finally satisfied, he stepped back and took off his big black leather belt. That "thwap-thwap-thwap" sound of a daddy's belt coming off is one of the most fearsome sounds I know of to this day. He snapped it a few times, tapped it against my cold bare bottom and finally started in on the spanking. I never knew how many swats I would receive- it was always just until he thought I'd had enough. Long, long after I myself thought I'd had enough. I cried and yelled and squeezed my cheeks together, trying as hard as I could not to come out of position. But inevitably, as with almost all of my spankings, I finally couldn't help it and put my hand back there. That resulted in more yelling and additional swats, of course. It was more than I thought I could bear.

Finally he stopped. He insisted I turn around and look him in the face as he lectured me again. No longer feeling at all like a man I unabashedly rubbed my bottom, jumping up and down sobbing. After a few more minutes of this he told me to get dressed and go to my room. I grabbed my pants and dashed through the door into the basement, down the hall, into my room and threw myself down on my bed to cry it out. As I dashed by I noticed my brother casually sitting just inside the garage door, listening to the whole thing.

It wasn't the hardest spanking I ever got, it wasn't the least private spanking I ever got, but it was one of the most embarrasing.
Rumphus Rumphus
36-40, M
3 Responses May 12, 2012

That would cure knuckle popping for a while and defiantly at church

Wow. No wonder you remembered that so vividly. Sympathy for the whole episode, but especially for the humiliation and pain.

I got one similar in the garage, doors open.