My most embarrassing experience occurred back years ago, right after World War II, way up in Ontario. Me and my Daddy David had gone on a trip, and we had stopped at a little restaurant in a small town deep in farming country. You've got to remember, in those days, things were pretty old-fashioned even in the big cities, much less outside them.
As we sat there at dinner, I was whining about the long drive and being tired. I was twenty then, but I was still kind of small, and with my burr haircut, I probably looked a lot younger. Those good, farm folks in the restaurant could probably mistake me for some snot-nosed teenager giving his old man a hard time. I'd been doing that pretty much all day, and I guess Daddy David was pretty sick of it. He had already told me a couple of times to stop complaining, but I just didn't listen.
Boy, was I sorry for that!
Now, first off, there are some things I guess I should explain. My Daddy David wasn't my real Daddy. Him, I never knew. Daddy David was a man I had met two years before on the streets of Detroit, when I was stealing his car. No kidding! When he caught me there trying to hotwire it, he grabbed me by the collar, slammed me against the hood and told me real slow he'd give me two choices: one was to get arrested for car theft, and the other was to come back to his house. Now, I was a real punk and real green, just down from Traverse City, and I even thought maybe I could outsmart this guy and get some really good stuff out of his house, so I said okay to number 2.
Daddy David took me home. He said to me on the way that I was skinny, and looked like I could use a square meal. That was no lie! Right then, I kind of started to like him. He told me he'd been a Marine in the Pacific for two years, and had only been back from the war about six months, and maybe he could use a little help around his place. It's funny to say it, but he made me feel safe, sort of. He was a big man. I only came up to his shoulder, and he probably outweighed me by seventy-five pounds.
We got to his place, and _d_a_m_n_ed if he didn't fix dinner. We had some stew and he gave me a beer. Then we went out in the living room and I was feeling pretty good, and Daddy David says to me that now it's time for me to take my medicine for trying to rip off his car.
I didn't have a clue about what he was talking about.
He looked me in the eye, then spun me around and pushed me over the arm of the sofa. He ripped his belt off with one hand, and ripped the seat of my pants out with the other. I'm not kidding. Grabbed the pockets and tore the seat of them clean out. He then proceeded to whip my naked ass till I cried. I was entirely freaked out, as I learned to say long after, but that was true. His belt stung like a swarm of bees, and I was crying like the kid I was before he was even half done with me.
When he was done, he told me I could stay on as his boy-- room, board, chores, the works--but spanking was going to be the rule. What was I going to do? I was on the streets--no money, no job, no school. And more than that, I got the idea Daddy David would help me get my life together. He'd kinda be my daddy that I'd never had.
He did that, too. But, it took a lot of effort on Daddy David's part--and a lot of bawling on mine!
Which brings us back to that diner in Ontario. I kept on my whining, and finally, it was pretty obvious it was beginning to bother the other people in the restaurant. Suddenly, Daddy David stood up and came to my side of the table. "That'll be enough, young man," he said as he pulled me up by the back of my shirt. He sat down on my chair and, without batting an eye, he yanked me over his knee! I couldn't believe what was happening--Daddy David was going to spank me right there in the restaurant!
But that wasn't the worst of it. I was only wearing some loose fitting pants since they were comfortable to travel in. There with my face about two inches from the floor and my bottom high in the air, I felt Daddy David's fingers inside my waistband and then-- Whoosh!--those pants and my jockey shorts were down to my knees. I was bareass and helpless over Daddy David's knee in front of everybody in that restaurant.
Whack! Whack!
Conversations ceased as the sounds of Daddy David's hard hand connecting with my bare bottom resounded through the little restaurant. Oddly, though everybody was watching, nobody seemed to think it was at all unusual. A couple of the teenagers at one table giggled a little, till their father said, "That's what ought to happen to boys who whine!"
"Ow! OW!"
Of course, I didn't hear too many of the remarks, because the pain of Daddy David's palm on my naked cheeks was so intense, and my embarrassment so great, I could hardly do anything but squirm around like crazy, trying to avoid those angry slaps.
"I've had just about enough out of you!" he roared. "Just wait till I get you back to the motel."
With that, he pushed me to my feet and marched me toward the door. I didn't even have a chance to pull my pants up, so my _c_o_c_k_ and balls (which were half-excited, like they always got when Daddy David spanked me) were dangling between my legs and my pink rump was on display. He hustled me out to the car and shoved me in.
On the road, he kept yelling at me, and got so mad a couple times he had to pull over to the side of the road so he could spank me some more. In the car, Daddy David kept one of those Spencer spanking paddles, the ones with the holes in the them. They really raise blisters on a bare bottom, and Daddy David believed that it's only a real spanking when a boy's pants are around his knees.
The second time he was whaling my bare rump, there were footsteps nearby! Two Mounties walked up to the car, where Daddy David had the door open so he could get a full swing and so that my windmilling legs extended out into the darkness. They'd been attracted by the steady twacking of the paddle and the echo of my desperate squeals. When they realized what was going on, they simply folded their arms and watched, smiling slightly.
I did hear the younger one, who was about twenty-five or so, say: "Isn't that guy a little old for this?" But the older one said, "From the way he's squalling, and hard as that other fellow's laying into him, I'd say he's getting what he deserves no matter how old he is. We'd probably have a lot less work if there were more men like this one willing to whale a little ass."
They stayed until Daddy David was finished with my fanny. He chatted with them a minute, but, believe me, I was in no condition to eavesdrop, bawling there in the front seat and holding on to my fiery rear end.
You might have thought my pain and humiliation was over, but you didn't know Daddy David. He's a man who really believed in the benefits of old-fashioned, bare-bottom spanking, and the punishment only ended when he thought it had had its effect. He hauled me into the motel room, pulled out the desk chair, put one foot on the seat and dragged me up over his knee so I was suspended in mid-air--my legs swimming helplessly off the floor. He reached over on the bureau and grabbed the thing I dreaded most of all--his big wooden hairbrush.
Already, I was bawling like a baby, pleading with Daddy David not to spank me, blubbering that I was sorry and I wouldn't whine anymore.
A lot of good that did.
TWACK! TWACK! TWACK!
"OWWWW! OHHH! OWWWW! WWAAAHHHH!"
That brush burned my already tender red bottom like a blowtorch. My legs were flutter-kicking wildly and I was twisting and bucking, my asscheeks opening and closing, my face contorted with sobs. Daddy David was yelling--"Making trouble for me in the retaurant, whining away. I'll teach you, you little sissy."
I could hardly hear him. I was making so much noise myself. All I could think about was how hot and sore my naked ass was. I don't know when the night manager came in, some kid about nineteen or so. Daddy David had been so pissed he'd forgotten to close the door. Soon, a little crowd had formed there in the room, just watching as Daddy David gave me a lesson I'd never forget. Nobody seemed inclined to do anything but take it all in. With an audience, Daddy David seemed to light into my rump even harder, and I went totally out of control--squealing and squalling and bouncing and kicking .
I was beyond being embarrassed. I didn't care who saw me and my flaming rear end, if they thought that it was sad or funny or just plain good to see a boy my age get the spanking of his life. My legs pistoned up and down and spread apart back and forth. I just wanted it to be over. But it went on...
Finally, Daddy David stopped.
"Get your butt over in the corner. Press your nose up there. Now!" he shouted, and you can bet I hustled over in front of everybody and did what I was told. I didn't want anymore hairbrushing, I can tell you. Somewhere along the line, those Mounties had joined the crowd there at the door. I guess somebody must have heard all the ruckus and called the cops. Out of the corner of my eye, in the mirror, I could see the older one was talking to Daddy David, and he shook his head and smiled.
Suddenly, I felt his firm grip on my shoulder. "You're really going to remember this, boy! Come on!"
Daddy David marched me out of the room in front of everybody. By that time, I'd kicked my pants completely off, so all I had on was my shirt, my socks and tennis shoes. Daddy David led me out in front of the motel by the highway, under the light at the entrance to the parking lot and on to the all night gas station. The mounties came with us.
There were a couple of teenagers on duty, together with one guy in his fifties. Daddy David and the mounties talked to him a minute, and he nodded. I was standing there bareass by the gas tanks, those two young guys cracking up at the sight of my two blazing buns.
Then Daddy David came back and dragged me over to the corner right in front of the door to the office. The older guy came out with a hand-lettered sign that said: "Bad Boys Get Spanked!" Daddy David taped it to my back and said: "Now you just stand here till I tell you you can move."
So I did. For the next half-hour, people came and went. The Mounties thought it might be a good example for people to see what at least one Daddy thought ought to happen to bad boys who whine, and Daddy David thought it would really teach me a lesson to stand around in public with no pants and a screaming crimson fanny. Those kids thought it was a real hoot, but I think they were a little worried too that their own daddies might drive by and get some ideas.
Finally, Daddy David told me to get my bottom back over to the motel room. You can bet I scrambled over there like my ass was on fire--which it still was.
I got a lot more spankings after that, which I'll tell you about some other time. Daddy David sure believed in the belt, the paddle, the hairbrush and anything else he could lay his hands on to keep his boy in line. We stayed together, and he kept me hopping till last year when his heart gave out. He was my man for all that time, who gave me what I needed and wanted.
But of all the whippings ever got over forty-five years, that was my most embarrassing experience.