My name is Brent, a 19 year old living in the Midwest. This is the last in a series of true life spanking stories that started with my first posting on the 10th of August in a story titled "A Teenager's True Tale of Two Spankings". This first story introduces you to me and my spanker/mentor, also a very prolific writer to this site.
That was followed on the 23rd of August with my second story titled "A Teenager's Third Spanking".
On the 3rd of September I posted my third story, titled "A Bare Butt Spanking in Front of My Mom". This was my worst spanking in terms of embarrassment.
The fourth story was posted on the 7th of September and was titled "My Sunday Morning Follow Up Spanking".
The fifth story was posted on the 14th of October and was titled "My First Lesson in How to Spank My Ten Year Old Cousin".
The sixth story was posted a few days ago, titled "My Cousin Jeremy's Spanking, My First As A Spanker."
The seventh story posted a couple of days ago was titled "My Birthday Spanking and Paddling."
I would urge you to read these stories first, if you have not done so already. This last story will be much easier to follow.
This story is being written on New Year's day, after watching South Carolina kick the butt of Ohio State in a bowl game. I watched this game with my spanker/mentor in his home, and because this is my last story, he has given me permission to identify him. His name is Jason L. Parker. If you are regular reader of MMSA Stories, you have read his numerous true-life stories. This story reveals a side of the man I hadn't seen before and never want to see again. His pissed off side. Not a pretty picture.
On Wednesday, December 20th, my Mom's well-kept secret became a stunning surprise for our whole family. My older brother Steve came waltzing into the house with my Grandpa just as we sat down to watch TV for the evening. He was home on leave for Christmas! Mom burst into tears, I had tears and soon the whole family was at our house. We all stayed up until past midnight, soaking up every word he spoke about Kosovo and the whole Balkan mess.
The next morning, my joy at having my brother home for the holidays turned to hurt and anger. About 9AM, he came into my room with the hairbrush in his hand. I was barely awake, lying in bed with only my white Jockey briefs on. Even with my sleepy eyes barely functioning, I had seen the look in his eyes enough to know I was about ready to get it.
He got into my face and verbally tore me a new one! Every time I tried to explain the changes that had taken place since I met Jason he would scream "Shut Up" and keep lecturing and waving the hairbrush. Then it hit me. No one had told him about my college or anything last night. We were saving it for him as a surprise. All that he knew was that I was still a teen-age _f_u_c_k_ up living at home. PLUS, he wouldn't listen to me!
All of a sudden he stopped and grabbed my arm, yanking me up and out of bed. With our size difference, it was no contest. In an instant he had me under his left arm, like a sack of potatoes. His arm was wrapped around my waist, holding me tight against his body as he put one leg on my bed for support. Still holding the hairbrush in his right hand he yanked my briefs down to my knees.
Then the worst spanking he has ever given me started. He blasted my butt from the first swat. In a couple of swats I had kicked off my briefs, and was beginning to cry as I begged him to stop this horrible mistake. He didn't listen and he didn't stop. He covered my butt top to bottom, side to side. When he got tired of that, he spanked my thighs almost as much as he did my butt. I can't tell you how long he paddled me, because I got hysterical with the pain and gross unfairness of his beating.
My brother was not spanking me. He was beating me. Jason had tried to explain to me the differences between a punishment spanking and a beating. Now I was learning first hand the awful differences. Steve just wouldn't listen to my begging and screaming. Since Mom had already gone to work, no one was there to tell him he was wrong.
Finally it ended and he dropped me on the bed like some animal, and walked out, closing the door behind him. I cried for a few minutes and then got up, showered, dressed and packed a bag. No one was going to beat me, and think I was going to stay around. Steve was in the bathroom when I left to head to the only safe place I could think of, Jason's home. Mom had the car, and with the snows, my motor cycle was a real risk. I didn't care if I had to crawl to Jason's house; I was no staying around my home. It took me over an hour in very cold temperatures to finally reach Jason's. By a real stroke of luck, I walked up his driveway just as the garage door started to open.
He was already in his car and got out when he saw me walking up with a bag in my hand. Jason looked at my eyes intently as I stumbled into his garage. He said nothing but took me into his arms and hugged me tight. He knew something was very wrong. I started to cry uncontrollably.
Jason finally got me to stop crying long enough to get the garage door closed and get into the house. He pealed off my coat and started rubbing my hands and face to warm them up. Then he spoke.
"What's wrong son. Your face is etched with pain. What's happened."
I sobbed out my story of Steve's beating, and I as I did; the transformation in Jason's face was ugly. His eyes went from warm blue to a scary cold blue. His face hardened in a manner that is difficult to put on paper.
He took me into the spare bedroom and told me to take off my pants and briefs. It was not easy doing that, because my legs and butt were now stiff and sore. I lay down on the bed and he came back in a blurted out, "Mother of God, your brother did this to you?"
He spent an hour rubbing ointments into my legs and buns, getting every detail of Steve's screaming lecture and how he beat me. After he rubbed the final application of ointment dry, I got a dose of baby powder. He told me to put my pants back on and meet him in the living room. We were going to take a trip.
After dressing, I walked into the living room and saw him waiting with the portable phone in his hand.
"Call your Mom at work Brent. When you get her on the line, hand me the phone."
After I got my Mom on the phone, Jason unloaded on her about what Steve had done. He also let her know that he was taking me out of town for the night, not to protect me from Steve, but Steve from him! The longer he talked the madder he got. [Now I saw the man the local school board faced when he got the junior high principal fired for child abuse.] He told Mom we would be back late Friday night, and not to worry. I would be safe.
As he hung up the phone, he asked me a strange question, "Got your birthday gift certificate with you?"
For some strange reason I had packed some of my personal paper stuff with my clothes and that was one of them. I nodded 'yes'.
His answer was great as he broke open a big smile, "Then let's dump this burg and go shopping!"
We headed towards my college campus, arriving about 2 hours later. He checked us into the upscale version of the Holiday Inn and we had lunch in the sports bar in the hotel. We kicked butt in "Trivia Pursuit", getting first nationally on one of the short games.
After lunch we went to the shop where the gift certificate was purchased. Three days before Christmas and with the lousy weather, we got some bargains! I had never bought a sport coat before, or the ties and shoes that go with that kind of wardrobe. Jason had worked in a men's clothing store in high school and college. The guy that waited on us was only a year older than me, but he and Jason saw eye to eye on what I needed for my clothing upgrade. The total bill was for almost a hundred more than the certificate, but he insisted on making up the difference. I had my good clothes for college!
For the next few hours we walked around the town and the campus. I had never been to a college town or campus before. We spent time in the student union and bookstore. I was stunned at how much textbooks were going to cost. Ron had warned me in our meeting that textbooks were the biggest money surprise of college. Boy was he selling that short!
We headed towards the hotel and caught an early movie. By the time the movie was over with and we had dinner, I was bushed. So was Jason. Walking for almost five hours was not something that either one of us did normally. I was asleep by the ten o'clock news.
Around 8AM Jason gently nudged me awake. His warm smile was a distinct difference over Steve's angry glare of yesterday. The croissant and orange juice I got served in bed was a first time experience also. No one had ever served me breakfast in bed. Maybe getting my butt beat wasn't so bad after all. NOT!
After I finished my croissant, he turned me over on my stomach, for the stated purpose of checking my bruises. Instead I got an ice cube ass crack wash, along with tickling. He wedged my briefs into my crack to hold the ice against my hole. His left hand kept my briefs tight and his right hand tickled me everywhere else. I couldn't stop laughing or squirming. Plus, the ice cubes kept melting. My underpants were soaked by the time he was finished. And I hurt from laughing so much.
After I showered, he had me try on the various combinations of shirts and ties, pants and coat. It was the first time anyone had ever shown me how to tie a tie and dress in the correct color combinations.
"Now we go buy the basic stuff kid", he said with a big grin on his face. He handed me another envelope. In it was a Christmas card, and another gift certificate. This one was for the outlet mall shopping center close to our homes, for another $200- ! I jumped into his arms and wished I would never leave his protection and compassion again. I was jealous of Jeff in a big way!
We took our time driving back and spent over three hours buying the basics of clothing from the Levi outlet, Jockey store and others. I had five pair of casual slacks for class, plus tops and new underwear. Even got some hip style briefs. He teased me when I bought those, "Be careful, those won't protect your butt much if I have to paddle you." I still got them.
We stopped for a Christmas dinner at his favorite upscale restaurant overlooking the lake. The waitress was a friend of his for many years and made our special dinner something I never had experienced in a restaurant. For the first time, I experienced what it meant to be spoiled by great service in a super restaurant. By the time we got to his house, it was dark and I was tired again.
When we got everything unpacked, he saw that his message light was flashing on the phone. He clicked the Caller ID, and saw 14 times my Mom's number came up. He grinned at me and made a bet.
"Out of these 14 calls, I bet Steve left at least four messages and your Mom at least three. What's your guess and bet?"
"I bet you a big hug that they both left more messages than that."
We were both wrong. Steve left three and Mom left five. He picked up the phone and called my Mom's number.
"Julia. Jason. Brent and I are at my place and he is getting ready to go to bed. Just wanted to let you know your son is safe and sound." From my end of listening to what my Mom said, she was both grateful and pissed. It seems that she and Steve had a real knock down drag out fight over his beating my butt. Finally Jason ended the conversation with this statement.
"If you and Steve can't get your act together, I am taking Brent with me to spend Christmas with my kids in the city. I am leaving tomorrow at noon. You guys get with it. Good night." He winked at me as he put the phone down. This guy can be cold. Real cold!
But that still didn't stop him from letting me curl up on his lap in the recliner as we watched the 10 o'clock news. I was ready for bed and was in the bed in the spare bedroom before David Letterman's monologue was done. Tomorrow was going to be an interesting day. And was it ever.
I heard the phone ring at 7:30. I couldn't hear all the conversation, but I knew Jason wasn't talking to someone he liked. The last thing I heard him say was a real loud, "Then get your ass over here now!"
Who in the hell was going to be coming to see him at this early hour? As I got up and trudged into the living room I saw Mom's car drive up and knew the answer to that one. It was Steve. Jason signaled me to lay down on my stomach on the couch. Since all I had on was a pair of Jockey briefs, Steve's handiwork was till on display on my legs. I gave myself a wedgie to let him have a good look and Jason winked at me and grinned.
Jason greeted my brother with a handshake. Then Steve saw me on the couch. He stopped, with his mouth wide open. He came over and knelt down beside me and started apologizing for this stupidity and brutality. He begged me for my forgiveness. I was still pissed and turned my head away from him.
"Unless you have something else to say Steve, it is time for you to leave." Jason was standing next to Steve and the tone of his voice caused me to shiver.
Steve rose and went into a long apology and asking if there wasn't something that could be done to change what had happened. Jason unloaded on him about acting before he knew all the facts. Then he dropped a bombshell on Steve.
"Steve, you have been a bully all your life. I checked with kids who went to school with you, including my daughter. You are a bully and made a big deal out your spanking your little brother in high school. I have nothing but contempt for the bullies of this world."
I turned and watched Steve's mouth drop. My mouth dropped almost as much as his did. My brother was a bully?
Then Jason really tore into him about me and Steve's frequent past spankings and the recent beating. Then he hit Steve between the eyes with this blast.
"If you were my son, and had done that to a younger brother, you would be tied down and given an ass whipping that would leave you marked and sore for days. But you're not man enough to take what you give out. No bully ever is."
Steve just looked at him and then me. I could see he was pissed, but what was even stranger was Jason was grinning at him. Challenging him.
He hung his head, and stunned both of us, "If that will square things with my brother, Mom and you; I'll take whatever whipping you can dish out."
Then Jason challenged him again, "See your brother's legs and butt. Yours won't look that good for at least a week. Still want the whipping I am going to give your bare backside?"
"No sir, I don't want a whipping. But if that is what it will take to make peace. Give me a whipping."
Jason turned to me and put the monkey on my back, "Brent, think back to how you felt when you walked into this home two mornings ago. Think hard. Does Steve deserve a severe ass whipping?"
I looked over at my brother. My head nodded 'yes'.
Jason then ordered Steve to take off his shirt and drop his pants. He sent me into this bedroom to get four of his dress ties. My brother was going to get his butt whipped.
When I came out of the bedroom, Steve was standing naked from the waist up and a pair of very old and thin white Jockey briefs creased into his butt, his pants around his ankles. Jason was putting the barstool from the kitchen counter in the middle of the room. Steve was really going to get it.
He motioned Steve over behind the stool and then me to stand next to him. He motioned for me to pull Steve's briefs down. That was a funny feeling, because I had never done that before, even playing around the house when we were young. I pushed them down to his pants and as I stood up I saw Steve with a woody. Was my brother scared stiff, or turned on?
Then Jason gave him instructions on how to bow his legs and then lay forward over the back of the stool. In a couple of seconds he was in a wheelbarrow position that opened up his bare butt for whatever Jason had in mind for him.
I was instructed to tie his pants to the barstool back with one tie. Each elbow to a bar stool leg and his wrists together. By the time I got through with my duties, Jason came out of his office with a strap from hell.
It had a wooden handle, with a single piece of black leather about 18" long that was so stiff it hardly bent when he held it out horizontal. One side had a shiny black smooth finish. The other side was black but unfinished and rough. [Later found out he bought it from Reb's On-Line. Their Prison Strap model.]
"Last chance Steve. Once I begin, there will be no stopping until I am done. Are you sure you want this whipping."
My brother silently nodded his head and didn't look up. Jason ordered me to stand behind Steve and hold onto the stool to make sure he didn't tip it over. I did and got a most interesting view of my brother's butt. It wasn't quite as humpy as mine, but a lot bigger. Almost no hair in his crack or crotch, and his butt hole was puckering nervously.
Jason took a funny stance next to Steve. He got his feet situated just so, like a standing runner's start stance, one behind the other and kept gauging his distance by tapping the strap on Steve's butt.
Then it started with Jason's simple comment, "Twelve of the best. 144 total."
He took the strap up and back over his shoulder and brought it down in a full force hard swing that landed the leather right across my brother's cheeks, on top of his hole. My brother's head snapped back at the terrible crack.
Jason took exactly the same swing, landing it lower on his butt. Steve's head snapped back again and he groaned.
Ten more time Steve's butt was slowly blasted from the top of his crack to the joining of his buns and thighs. He was now begging for mercy with each swat. And Jason shot back with comments about his beating of my butt and his reputation as a bully.
Then Jason moved to the opposite side of Steve and got his feet set the same way and gauged the distance the same way. These twelve swats got Steve blubbering, but not crying.
Then he stood at Steve's head and whipped his upper thighs and buns at the same time, with the strokes aimed at his sit spot each time. Some even into his crack and hole, causing him to really scream.
Then he took up his original position and slammed the strap onto the junction of his buns and thighs. That area was now an ugly purple color on both sides. But the next 11 swats never saw his butt. Jason went up and down his right thigh. The strap wrapped around to the inside of his leg. Now I understood why he wanted me to hold onto the stool. Steve was screaming and getting frantic.
When Jason switched sides for the fifth set of 12, that landed all on the left leg.
The sixth set of twelve were awful looking swats because of the way Jason swung. Instead of coming down overhead with the swat, he swung from the side. He stood back from Steve's head and aimed each swat either in the side dimple of his right cheek or left cheek. Steve's buns literally shook at this new pain hitting the sides of his buns.
Then Jason shifted the strap to the other side. Steve had been getting whipped with the smooth shiny side. For the rest of his whipping, he got the rough side of the strap.
Set seven and eight were all shots to his butt, from the left and right. His butt was now getting ugly purple marks all over it. Plus he just begged and wailed as Jason delivered all the swats very slow. Taking his time, making sure Steve felt each one from the rough side of the strap.
The ninth set was again delivered from in front of Steve's head, but the swats were all directed at Steve's ass crack. He was screaming hysterically at this new onslaught. Hell, I thought, he might feel this spanking for a week when he craps. The rough side of the strap seemed to be much worse.
Set ten and eleven were all devoted to Steve's thighs. By the time the last swat landed on his left thigh, it was one continual mass of welts and dark red from the back his knees to his ass crack.
But the twelfth and final set was going to be even more special. Jason gave me the strap and said deliver them anywhere I wanted. I did. Since his butt looked like bad hamburger, I whipped his bare back. Just across the broadest part of his back and shoulder blades. His screaming got even louder because I used the rough side only.
Jason told me to take a shower and get dressed while he had a heart to heart talk with Steve. Every once in a while from the shower or bedroom I would hear Steve cry out when Jason emphasized a point in his lecture with the strap.
When I finally came out of the bedroom all dressed, Steve was still tied up. His back was dark red with strap marks. His buns and thighs looked awful. I ran my hand over his buns and thighs. It was one continual mass of ridges and welts.
We let Steve hang there for almost an hour, before we released him. For the longest time he just stood there until the circulation returned to his legs. Then he bent over for a few minutes his hands resting on his knees. Finally he pulled up his briefs and jeans, wincing at the tightness of the briefs and the roughness of the jeans. Gingerly he pulled his sweatshirt back on.
He turned and looked at both of us, wondering if it was over. Jason motioned him out the front door and he left.
My brother had indeed gotten an ass whipping and more. He got it on Friday morning the 22nd. Today, ten days later you can still see the marks on his butt and legs, though they look a lot better than the day after.
Steve returns to his new duty station next week. He promises he will never spank me again. Plus he wants to drive me to school in his new pick up and haul my motorcycle up for me. With this still below freezing weather we are having, driving that distance with my bike wasn't going to happen.
When I asked Jason what he said to him when I was getting dressed, he just smiled and said nothing.
I do know this. I have seen a number of video taped spankings that Jason has given to men my age and older. None of them were even half as severe as what he gave Steve. The only reason that I can come up with is that he knew something about Steve that I didn't. I doubt that I will ever find out. All I know is this. Whatever it was, really pissed him off after he saw what Steve had done to me.
This is my final story for the MMSA Stories website. These true stories have been my initial attempts at first hand recounting style of writing. That is the reason Jason wanted me to write these stories. I am starting a semester late in my freshman year, so even if I get paddled during Jason's "Performance Reviews"; you all know how I feel about that awful paddle from Santa Barbara Paddle Company. No need to write about another butt scorcher due to my own stupidity. All my creative writing abilities are now reserved for my college courses. I hope that in a few years you will have the pleasure of reading by byline in a story in a magazine or newspaper. Please look for Brent Baker.