Adult spanking. Being an adult and getting spanked is nothing like being a kid and getting spanked. As a kid you have no choice, and your dad is so big and powerful to you that you submit immediately. I think looking back that the pain of my spanking wasn't the worst part it was the psychological side of being handed down a sentence of "The Belt" having to report to my room and get into position to take it. I had so much anxiety and nervous energy built up by the time he came up to tan my ass that he could have patted my butt and I would have melted down.

Now don't get me wrong he did not pat my butt, he whacked it, and he whacked it hard enough to show me he meant business, but here's the thing, as kids me and my buddies all played games at one point or another where we made loosing the game, the bet, or the challenge punishable by whacks. The guy who lost would sometimes have to bare ass to take them. We would usually hand slap that ass, but sometimes we'd get the belt out or some implement like a wooden spoon or a plank of wood. The point I'm leading to is that when we did it we whacked hard...no joke and I have to say we did it harder than our dad's did, but we never cried. We might hoot and yelp jump around and hold our blazing hot cheeks to sooth them, but we didn't cry. Yet my dad spanking me half as hard would get me crying like a baby.

I wonder if it is, and have to conclude that it is the psychology of being truly at dad's mercy that made the emotions run full tilt and crank up the water works. This leads me to wonder if we as adults now had the opportunity to truly control and dominate men, could we get tears from a spanking? I imagine a prison setting or a war setting, where you can capture and control a man. If you took that prisoner and lets say you were significantly larger and better trained in hand to hand combat so that he knew even outside of the guards with guns he'd still have no choice but to submit, then declared that he was going to get the belt, made him go to his room and wait for it, then finally walk up to his room and give it the way dad did, would he cry?

When I was a kid, there was a different attitude about spanking. It was before the world went crazy and decided a "time-out" was the way to raise kids. Spanking used to be how you helped disobedient kids be better people. That being said it wasn't unheard of for other members of a kids family to spank him. Through talking to some guys, usually guys down south, they even had to worry about neighbors tanning them. In my case if I were spending time with my grandparents or aunts and uncles, and I got mouthy or bratty I could get a good old fashion ass tanning almost as fast as if I were at home.

Staying with my dad's parents almost certainly meant I was going to get strapped by granddad. Just like when he raised my dad, he had very limited tolerance for attitude disobedience or bickering between me and my brother or cousins. From time to time my parents would take trips and that meant we would get packed up and sent to spend the weekend with grandparents. Don't get me wrong we actually had fun with them. We would do fun activities and I have some of the greatest memories of these times, it was just that he ran his house tight. He was a Marine, then he was a plant manager that oversaw tough blue collar factory workers. He was a top dog, and alpha male, and he had a belt that could adjust anyone's attitude.

I remember being at the table one night and he was talking to grandma about the guy at work who has been being a problem. I can't remember what he said the guy was doing wrong, but in my head as a kid he was allowed to spank anyone he was in charge of, so I asked him in all seriousness if he was going to give him the belt at work the next day. He laughed really hard and thanked me for the good idea. I didn't understand what was funny. The guy was being bad and he was making grandpa angry. I thought he was really going to take this guy to his office and belt spank his bare ass over his desk. The next day after work I asked if he had to whip that guy. He chuckled and said "Almost Kiddo" and went back to his room to get out of his work clothes, so the conversation was over.

Now one of the belt whippings I got from him was pretty memorable. We had gone out for a day of errands stopping at the hardware store, the auto supply store, the barber shop. I guess I had been out too long and not doing fun kid stuff. I must have gotten whiny and fussy. Then I did what I was told not to do. I walked away in the last store and wound up dropping something and breaking it. He needed to pay for it and on the way out he said "You're going to get it when we get home" I started to melt down I didn't want one of his famous belt whippings, they hurt so bad. He had me by the arm taking me out into the parking lot and I was doing the collapse thing as if he wouldn't just lift me up and carry me home. He got me right to my feet and gave me 3 or 4 hard swats with his hand that stung like bees.

We got in the car and now he was really fed up with me. Maybe I was tired or something because looking back even I think I deserved it. Grandpa finally turned down a street that was off the beaten trail, no pun intended, He took me out of the car bared my butt, took off his famous belt, put his foot up on the bumper, Hauled me over it and whipped my little ass to a fire red glow. I think a car even passed us as he was doing it. When I had the demons whipped out of me he put me back in the car and drove us home. I cried myself out in the front seat and slept the rest of the way back to his house and then he must have carried me in and put me on the sofa to finish my nap.

I woke up and felt refreshed my cheeks didn't hurt anymore but they buzzed and or throbbed. They were warm and almost felt good in someway. I got off the sofa and saw grandpa doing some stuff to the car. I went out and acted like nothing was wrong, he asked if I was feeling better and I nodded yes with a little embarrassment because I got it but I didn't like to admit that I felt calm and clear after it proving that he really knew how to adjust an attitude and give a boy what he needs even if he doesn't think he wants it. He asked me to pass him the box wrench and we were back to being buddies again like nothing happened. We both knew the slate was clean and there was nothing to dwell on.