textfiles/sex/EROTICA/S/saturday.txt

Saturday Spanking



	One time when I was about 14 my friend Steve and I decided to
go down after school to an abandoned railroad yard not too far
from our neighborhood.  I told my mother we were going 
over to his house, because I'd been strictly forbidden to go
there, since there was a lot of dangerous junk lying around and it was a
hangout for transients and other people of unsavory
reputation.

	  I don't know what Steve said to his older sister, who was
supposed to keep track of him while his folks were both at work, but she
called my mom while we were gone asking where Steve was.  Oh-oh, I thought
after we got back around 5:30 when she confronted me with the fact that
I'd lied to her, quick thinking needed!                         

	I really couldn't think of anything, so I just clumsily lied
that we were just "hanging around."

	"Michael," she said to me, looking me right in the eye, "you'll
have to do better than that. Cheryl (that was Steve's older sister) said
you and he were going down to the railroad yard.  Is that true?  You know
you've been told to stay away from there."

	Again I lied clumsily.  She stared right at me, then turned
away.  "We'll see what your father has to say about this."

	Oh, shit, I thought, now I'm in it.
	Turned out Steve fessed up to Cheryl, who didn't really care
that much.  But my mom was a stickler for getting the story straight, as I
should have known by that age!  I'd gotten spanked many times over the
years for lying to my mom, always later, always by my Dad, and it seemed
to be the one thing that really made him mad enough to tear into my butt
with his strap.

A few times he's used an old wooden paddle on me that he must
have had from fraternity days.

Oh man, did that ever hurt!

	I guess I knew I'd be getting it.  My butt started tingling a
little bit in anticipation when I looked out the window and saw Dad's car
pulling in the driveway.
 A lot of my friends' dads thought they were "too old" to spank, but my
Dad had kept right on spanking me as I got older, just harder.  And always
with the strap or that paddle now, never just over his knee for a warm
feeling on the butt.

	I knew something was different this time right away, when he
didn't call me downstairs after my mom talked to him.  At dinner he hardly
spoke to me, but he finally said, "Michael, your mother told me about you
lying to her and disobeying us by playing around the railroad yard.  On
Saturday morning, you will get the spanking of your life. 
Between now (it was Thursday) and then, you are grounded, and you will
remain grounded for two weeks after Saturday as well.  Is that clear?"

	My dad had never deferred spanking me like this.  It could only
mean he was planning to really do it to me.  Was I scared!  But I was able
to mumble "yes,sir."

	"All right then, go to your room now and finish up your
homework.  And there will be no TV while your are grounded.  Understood?"

	That evening passed slowly and the entire next day I kept
thinking about Saturday morning and getting spanked.  I was tingling with
anticipation as I thought about it.  My heart would race and I would feel
lightheaded and flushed if I thought about it too much, and I could
actually feel a sensation in the flesh of my ass, like
anticipation of the strap that was to come. I found myself getting turned
on by the prospect, even at the same time as I had real
fear and dread of the pain.  I'd had this strange mixture of
turn-on and fear and even hatred after being spanked before, but this
time, before I'd even gotten the spanking, it was intense and
focused all my attention.  I couldn't concentrate on school at
all, but I somehow managed to get through the day without getting in
trouble at school -- that would be all I needed, to have to explain
a note from a teacher or something on top of the trouble I was
already in. 

	Friday night my dad didn't say much except around eight he came
in my room and said, "Remember our appointment tomorrow, Michael.  You go
to bed now, because I will be getting you up at 6:00 for your spanking."

	I looked at him wide-eyed but said nothing.  I went to bed as
he told me, but I couldn't sleep from thinking about getting spanked.  I
kept getting a hard on at the thought of my own naked butt getting
strapped.  Finally I couldn't stand the pressure, so I let it out -- in
the usual way.  I finally got to sleep, but I woke up again around five,
and just lay there, dreading the
sound of my dad coming to my bedroom door to wake me up.

	The minutes dragged by, but finally there it was, a single
knock followed by his pushing the door open.   I hadn't heard him get up,
but he was already dressed in jeans and a loose shirt.
"OK, Michael.  It's time.  Get up and  meet me in my study in
five minutes.  No need to get dressed... you can keep on those pajamas."
	It was with leaden dread that I dragged myself out of bed and
down to his study.  The door was open, and he was sitting on the sofa.  He
stood up when I came in and walked over to his desk where he had a big
leather strap he often beat me with and the paddle, both laid out and
ready to go.

	"OK, son, get over the chair.  You have really disappointed
your mother and me this time and I intend to spank you harder and longer
than you've ever been spanked before.  I hope you will learn that you MAY
NOT lie to your parents, and you must obey us when you are told what you
may and may not do, especially for your own safety.  Now, do you clearly
understand why
you are going to get this spanking?"

	"Yes, sir," I croaked in a little voice.        "OK, then, let's
get started."  I was bent over the back of a small armchair, the usual
position he had me take when he was going to use the strap or his belt on
me.  Usually he would
just give me ten or twenty licks right on my pants, so I was kind of
surprised when he grabbed my pajama bottoms and thrust them down to my
calfs.  "This is
going to hurt you, son, because I intend to get through to you."

	He raised the strap high in the air and brought it down with a
THWACK! across both cheeks of my butt.  OH, did that ever wake me up.  He
was using real force, right form the start,
with no holding back, I thought.  Turned out I was wrong, there
was more and harder to come. THWACK! --- THWACK! ---THWACK! --- THWACK! 
He started laying into me with that big leather strap, and before long I
was
wildly crying out and squirming as angry red stripes covered my
butt up and down, on both sides.  THWACK! ---THWACK!--THWACK!--- THWACK! 
After only ten or so strokes I was bawling and tears were running down my
cheeks.. he wasn't kidding when he said it would be harder than anything
I'd ever had before.  But the relentless rhythm just went on and
on-THWACK! --- THWACK!--THWACK! --- THWACK! --- till I was
shaking and almost screaming with the intensity of it.  He seemed
oblivious to the fact that the whole rest of the house must have heard me
screaming and even the loud whacks of the strap against my butt. My little
brother was probably gleeful in
bed contemplating me getting it -- though it must have given him
pause that Dad would spank me so hard.  Could be him, after all,
especially since he was a little brat and always getting in trouble, and
getting spanked for it too.

	But this was my turn, and it wasn't over yet!  He finally
stopped with the strap,  I stood there shaking and just quietly sobbing. 
I stood up, faintly hoping it was all over, even though I knew it wasn't. 
He sometimes paddled me after strapping me, and when he did, it was the
paddle that was the
main punishment.  I literally shuddered to think what was coming. 
	My dad walked back over to his desk and put the strap down, and
took the paddle in hand.  But then he surprised me.  I expected more of
the same -- whaling swats with a paddle until my butt was hamburger.  But
what he said was to stand up and come over to the sofa.  He sat down and
indicated that I should get over his knee "like the disobedient CHILD you
are."
	I did so and he began spanking me with the paddle, slowly,
deliberately, covering every corner of my butt, and peppering the spanking
with a lecture on the importance of being responsible, of integrity, of
obedience, especially where safety was the reason for the proscriptions,
etc.  He kept spanking and spanking with that paddle the whole time, and I
was squirming
madly to somehow distribute that maddening stinging to places not as raw
and tender as where he was aiming the paddle.  But he just kept on and on,
not fiercely hard, but persistent, till presently I was beside myself
again and began blubbering and crying massive tears.

	"Will you lie <SMACK!> to your mother <SMACK!> ever again?
<SMACK!>?" 
	<Sniff> "OHH!  No, sir, <Sniff> I'll... <SMACK!> .. OHH!...
never do it again!  I promise!  <SMACK!>  OHH!" 
	This went on and on, covering the same ground over and over,
till finally he said, "OK stand up and back over the chair." 
	Then I got the hard, arm-length swats I'd been dreading-- -ten
of them in rapid succession.  My butt flared with the most searing agony I
could ever imagine as he laid into me with the full power of his arm at
full length, ten hard --and loud -- swats with that heavy wooden paddle. 
No school swat I'd ever
had could even touch these for force and searing pain.  Somehow I lost it
and became totally beside myself with determination and rage after he
finished with swat number ten.  I stood and turned quickly, shaking with
anger and pain.
	"I hate you!"  I screamed.  "I hate you!  I HATE YOU!!"
	My dad looked shocked as I yelled these words at him.  He
stared at me with an incredulous look in his eyes, shaking his head. 
Finally, his lips pursed into a thin line, he said, "Why, you....  I'll
teach you to speak to me like that!'" 
	He grabbed my arm, but instead of pushing me back over the
chair for more swats, he pulled me, naked, across his lap and sat down on
the bed with me.  Immediately he stared spanking my already fiery red and
bruised butt with his hand.   
	SMACK!  SMACK! SMACK!  SMACK!  SMACK! SMACK!  He spanked all over
my butt, hard and steadily, and he didn't stop or moderate.
 I could tell he was really pissed now, in a way that he wasn't even when
he was laying into me with the paddle.  I cried out and soon was squirming
and crying lots of real tears, so sore my butt already was before he
started this round of spanking -- and he just wasn't stopping.. .It was
relentless and incredible. 
Every few minutes my thoughts would clear and I'd think  "OK, he's got to
stop, he can't go on forever," but he DID go on, spanking and spanking my
now beet-red butt.  Without even a breath of changing pace, he finally
spoke.
	"You do not talk to me like that, EVER!  Do you understand?"
	SMACK!  -OHH!-  SMACK!  SMACK!  "Yes, sir,  -OHH!-  I'm
sorry..."  SMACK! -"OHH!-- I won't...-OHH! -- Please stop!" 
	"I'll stop when you've had the spanking you deserve, and not
until young man!"  SMACK!  SMACK! SMACK!  SMACK!  SMACK! SMACK! 
Again it went on for what seemed like forever, and he said no more, just
beat and beat my flaming butt with his big hand.  His hand was as red as
my butt by now, but it didn't stop him. 
	Finally he stopped.  I almost fell on the floor from relief.  I
just lay there for several moments, lying over his knees.       "All
right, Michael.  Get up!  You will never, NEVER, go near that railroad
yard, you will not lie to your mother or me, and you will show me and your
mother respect.  If you don't, you can expect more of the punishment you
just got, and don't think I
don't mean every word I say.  Is that clear?" 
	It was.  I really did try to live up to that, because I really
feared getting spanked so hard again.  I was sore and red for days
afterward.  But I fell down, and got spanked many times after that.  But
that's another story.