Once my dad got out of the Army, when I was about 15, he started to farm. He grew up on a farm and thought that it would be a good place for him to teach his boys about resposibility.
This particular spanking happened when I was 16 years old. I was out driving the truck around town to pick up some seed for dad. When I got back I helped to unload it into the barn and then dad told me to take the truck back to the house. Just then the neighbor guy, also a farmer, pulled up in his truck and him and my dad started talking. I knew I was in trouble, you see this guy had just seen me speeding like a bat out of hell down the road that led to our farm and I was sure that he was telling my dad about it.
I got in the truck and started it up to take it back to the house. My dad came over to me and told me to shut it off and get out. The neighbor guy honked his horn as he drove away and my dad waved. Dad opened the door of the truck and told me to get out or he'd drag me out of the truck. I got out the truck slowly and tried to play stupid.
I asked my dad what was wrong and all he said was "You're gonna get the whoopin' of your life boy".
My little butt cheeks twiched at the sound of those words, it happened everytime. It felt like a big knot was in my stomach and I started get this sick feeling of fear.
I asked my dad, with that little boy fear in my voice, why I was going to get a spanking, to which he replied "You know _d_a_m_n_ well why you're gettin' it". In fact, did know but I didn't want to admit it so I played dumb, which really pisses my dad off alot.
I asked again what I did to deserve a spanking and with that he told me to "Shut the hell up and get your ass in that barn boy".
I'd been spanked in the barn before, a few times, and usually it meant the spanking was going to be pretty hard. The barn was a long way from the house and no one could here me screaming or crying back there, that's why dad would take me there for really long or hard spankings.
I pleaded with my dad, telling him that I didn't do anything wrong and that I didn't deserve to get a spanking. My dad hated it when his boys lied and this effor on my part to get out of a spanking was probably only digging me into a deeper hole. He told me that he already knew what I had done and even if I didn't admit it I was getting a whipping. Dad also told me that he was going to whip me like I had never been whipped in my life.
When we got inside the barn I was trying to keep from crying, but the tears were starting to fill my eyes. There I was a 16 year old boy, a man in my mind at the time, about to be spanked like a little boy (which I really still acted like in reality). On the outside I looked like a man, 6' tall, tight Levis, t-shirt and cowboy boots and belt. On the inside though I was a scared little boy who knew that he couldn't hold back his tears much longer. I was so scared of the whipping that I had coming that I was ready to loose it.
My dad took me to the back of the barn and then told me to assume the position. There was a standard position that I had to assume when I was spanked in the barn. I had to bend over and put my hands on an old saw horse, step back one step and spread my feet apart to the same width as the saw horse. As soon as I was in position dad told me that he was going to give me one last chance to own up to what I had done and make it easier on myself. I stood there in position, my jeans stretched tight against my ass, my butt cheeks twitching in anticipation and tears starting to flow from eyes. Dad always expected his boys to own up to what they had done and not doing so would only cost me more whacks with the belt. I knew what I had to do.
As I told dad the truth about the way I was driving I could hear him unbuckling his belt, the big thick brown leather one, that he always wore everyday. By the time that I was done telling the whole story I was in tears. I was pleading with my dad, telling him how sorry I was for what I had done and that I would never, ever do it again. I told him that I promised not to drive like that again if he wouldn't spank me. He told me that when he was done whipping me that I would know what sorry meant and that he knew I would never drive like that again, because he was going to make me remember this for a long, long time. Dad said that I knew I had a whipping coming and there was no way I was going to get out of it. He was right, I did know that I deserved it, but that didn't mean that I wanted it. That's kind of hard to explain, but when I did something wrong I knew that I needed to be spanked. He told me that he counted on me to be able to drive properly so I could help him on the farm and by driving so poorly I had shown my complete lack of responsibility. Dad said that he was going to teach me a lesson about being responsible that I would NEVER forget.
With that he folded his belt in half, as he usually did, and began to beat my butt with it. With each whack that landed across my Levis my whole body bucked and my ass felt like a swarm of bees was stinging it over and over. The bite of the leather kept coming across my young butt and the back of my thighs. My dad always hit me on the back of my legs, he said it made the lesson easier to remember. He was right about that, I can still feel the sting on my legs when I think about it.
I screamed out with each whack begging for "no more" and for my dad to "please stop".
The whipping went on and on for what seemed to a 16 year old like forever. Judging by the welts on my ass when it was over I guessed that he hit me about 30 times or so, but it felt like 100. When it was over I was hyperventalating and crying uncontrolablly. The jeans and underwear that I had on offered no protection from the belt, they never did, and my butt stung so bad it literally felt like fire.
After standing in postion and crying really hard for about 10 minutes my dad told me to stand up and stop crying. He told me he hoped that I had learned my lesson and that he wouldn't have to repeat this kind of scene again. I had learned a lesson that day, one that I would never forget, but it wouldn't be the last lesson my dad would teach me.
After I stopped crying dad gave me a hug and told me that a boy who want to be a man has to learn responsibility and that's why he had to spank me like that. I knew that he was right, but I still didn't like it. On the way back to the house the bumpy ride in the truck made my butt sting even more. From that point on I was very careful about how I drove that truck.