Boys Spanking Each Other

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Boys Spanking Each Other
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Weird History: Judge sentences boys to public spanking
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WATCH: Students surprise crossing guard for 50 years on the job
WATCH: Students surprise crossing guard for 50 years on the job
Roosevelt Elementary School students in Pennsauken walk en masse to thank Laura Mason, a crossing guard who helped kids cross the street for 50 years.
No-nonsense South Jersey municipal judges administered law as they saw fit during the 1950s and '60s.
In April 1963, for example, an Atlantic City judge sentenced three teenage boys to a public spanking after they admitted to larceny and receiving stolen goods.
The Vineland Times Journal reported the boys bent over a desk as "each father moved up behind his son and the smack of open hand against rump resounded through the courtroom."
Of course, not everyone suffered such levels of indignity during that era of high conservatism.
Such was the case of a 20-year-old Franklinville man summoned to court in 1959 for necking with his girlfriend while driving.
"All I could see was the back of a lady's head," said the serving official. "As the car came closer I saw an arm around the driver's neck."
After a spirited defense, the reckless driving charge was dismissed. The man was found to be an innocent victim of his passenger's "irresistible impulse."
It seems she just couldn't keep from planting one on her blond-haired beau after he said "something cute" while driving.
Perhaps South Jersey wasn't the place for nurturing young love in those days.
Two years after the kissing couple caper, Municipal Court Judge Daniel J. Grasso cracked down on teens using the Vineland Acme and Kress parking lots for after-hour rendezvous.
"These parking lots were never intended to be a dating center," he scolded.
Tales of passion aside, another report, published in 1960, told of a Vineland judge ordering one young defendant to get a haircut, and another to shave off his goatee.
"You're not trying to be one of those beatnik fellows, are you?" the judge asked.
"Whiskers" was sentenced to a six-month curfew for stealing an automobile part from a local junkyard. He was also ordered not to associate with friends who might be a bad influence on him.
Curiously, the 11 p.m. curfew was suspended on nights when the defendant attended drive-in movies.
Perhaps the judge didn't consult local listings before reaching that decision.
Among the many flicks shown at Vineland's Delsea Drive-In during 1960 were, "Cover Girl Killers," "Female and the Flesh," "The Wicked Go To Hell," "Teenage Zombie," "Bewildered Youth," "Party Girl," "The Lovers" and "The Devil Strikes at Night."


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Mental Health , Sex
C. Brian Smith
February 22, 2021






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Welcome to the slap-happy world of ‘spanking for wellness’
Editor’s Note: This article was first published on December 6, 2017.
I’m naked and bent over the lap of a 72-year-old bald man named “Dr. Don” who is spanking me with a bare hand in his second-floor apartment in East L.A. He keeps a steady pace — equal intervals between spanks — which occasionally syncs up with the steadfast tick of a grandfather clock in the corner.
While neither an M.D. nor a Ph.D. — nor any D, for that matter — Dr. Don explains he’s a “ Spankologist ,” or an expert in adult male spanking. “People who have spanked for as many years as I have are considered doctors of their trade,” he reasons. His gentle demeanor and hypnotic voice contrast with a gaunt, villainous gaze that seems to wander. It’s as if Mr. Rogers had broken bad instead of Walter White.
Drawing from more than 30 years of administering spank therapy and pointing to a 2005 Russian study from the Novosibirsk Institute of Medicine on corporal punishment, Dr. Don says spanking’s therapeutic benefits include…
Naturally, spanking started out as a hobby for Dr. Don. “I enjoyed spanking and began doing it for fun,” he says. “A businessman was referred to me, and I spanked him — the whole nine yards. When we were done, he put $100 down on my desk and said, ‘I’m a married man. It’s got to be a business transaction or I can’t do it.’ I thought, People will actually pay me to do this? It had never dawned on me that that would happen. So I put an ad in the paper.”
The ad read: “My name is Don. I’m a heterosexual real dad looking for young men who grew up without a dad. You missed the bonding between father and son, but I can provide you with something else: Discipline with a good ol’ fashioned spanking. To be clear, this isn’t for a sexual connection, but the real experience of being spanked. $20 an hour.”
“Man, did my phone light up like crazy!” he says. “I didn’t realize there were so many straight guys who were into getting spanked. I thought, Oh my god! Is this possible? I was getting so many people taking up my time that I figured if I raised the price to $50 it would discourage some people. It didn’t change a thing.”
Today, his clients fly in from all over the world to pay $175 for a 1-hour session. They continue to be exclusively men. “Women’s asses aren’t good for spanking — they’re like saddle bags hanging over that you can’t contain,” he says.
His clients almost all also work high-stress jobs. “I have three trial lawyers who come from the courthouses to get spanked on their lunch hour,” Dr. Don explains. “They call it their ‘mini-vacation’ — a chance to clear their mind and give up control to someone else, which allows them to regain their focus and return to court with a clear mind.” Age-wise, the men he spanks are well into adulthood, usually somewhere between 35 and 60. “I endorse spanking your fully grown children,” he enthuses. “As long as you’re supporting them and they’re under your control on your dime — you whip their ass!”
Dr. Don says he raised a son on his own and spanked him so he wouldn’t get into trouble. “The last time I spanked him was when he was 19. He was in the Army and came home with a real mouth on him. I said, ‘You’re disrespecting me.’ I grabbed him, threw him over my knee, pulled his underwear down and started whacking him right in front of his friends.”
My session starts in Dr. Don’s bedroom, where what appears to be a replica of the Mayflower is bookended by pastel portraits of his parents. (Ironically, he was a good kid who never got spanked.)
Dr. Don arranges his weaponry on the bed. “These are the implements we work with,” he explains. There’s a homemade plywood paddle (“I call this the ‘beginner paddle’ because it’s thin”); the back end of a wooden bath brush (“very stingy”); a plastic kitchen utility spoon (“hitting the crack with this will send a sensation up through the balls”); a studded leather mallet (“weighted, for impact”); a collar (“for guys who want to feel like slaves and prefer to be on a leash”); a wooden cane (“my grandmother would go out and cut a switch like this from a tree”); and something called a “leather strapper” with a double tongue at the end (“this is what made the priest cry when I used it on him. He said, ‘Holy Jesus, I just saw the face of God!’”).
He invites me to undress and join him in the other room. “If there’s anything curious you want to try just bring it with you.”
Each spanking session begins with a conversation, Dr. Don says, in which he learns why the client believes they deserve to be spanked. He takes it from there, explaining what they did wrong, why it’s wrong and what better choices they could’ve made before announcing that the consequence will be a spanking. “People use me as a confessional,” he says. “They revert back to what it was like when they were a kid. They did something wrong, and their dad punished them. Then it was over, and they could move on with a clean slate.”
He directs me to crawl across his lap on the couch to assume the over-the-lap position that he explains is most common, since it allows for optimal control and connection to the spankee. (Other positions include: lying prone, bent over; under the spanker’s arm; through the legs of the spanker; and over the spanker’s shoulder, which Dr. Don explains represents that the spankee is his property.)
After caressing my butt for 10 seconds “to create a connection and facilitate the male bonding process,” Dr. Don administers a series of four stinging slaps with his bare hand immediately followed with circular, soothing rubbing. It sounds a little like this:
“Blood vessels rise up like goose bumps when you spank the ass,” he explains. “Rubbing in between relaxes them and avoids bruising so the spanking can last longer.”
When appropriate, Dr. Don infuses the spanking with positive reinforcement.
“I know you can do better, and you know it too, don’t you?”
“You’re much better than your recent behavior.”
“We’re not going to let the way you’ve acted get in the way of who you are and who you can become!”
“I wouldn’t trade you for any spankee in the whole world.”
While I’m struggling not to laugh — this is fucking absurd, after all — I note that the sting is becoming less and less unbearable with every spank. Endorphins! I think, blissfully riding the aforementioned “runner’s high.” But before I can get too cocky, I’m directed to bend over the desk and prepare for the strapper, the anticipation of which is by far the most unpleasant part of the session.
Once it hits, however, the strapper lands with a delightful sting that causes my eyes to well up. By the third blow, tears are streaming down my face. Without missing a beat, Dr. Don spreads my butt cheeks and begins rapidly slapping my asshole with a small plastic kitchen spoon which, as promised, sends a euphoric pulse of energy up through my balls. All at once I realize how one might become addicted to spank therapy.
But Dr. Don says what his clients are really craving is attention. “They want someone to notice them, to give up control and be a kid again.”
After applying an additional coat of aloe to my pink bum, I gather my things and reach for the door. “ Most guys like to be hugged afterwards ,” interrupts Dr. Don, arms outstretched.
I accept his embrace and rock back and forth a couple times.
“They remember their dads saying, ‘I’m sorry I had to spank you but I still love you.’”
C. Brian Smith writes hard-hitting gonzo features for MEL, whether it be training with a masturbation coach, receiving psycho corporal treatment from a spank therapist, or embarking on a week-long pleasure cruise with 75 Santa Clauses following their busy season.

I know it's a odd topic. For those of you who freeballed it when you were kids. Did you ever get spanked as a punishment when you happened to be freeballing it underneath. What was the reaction as your pants cam down to you not having underwear on.

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Underwear was optional, for me and my brothers, in my childhood home. As I've posted before, my Dad was a life-long full-time "freeballer". Although, we didn't have any special word for it. I didn't hear the terms freeballer or going commando till I served in the US Navy. So, most Summers I didn't wear underwear. My brothers and I were rough and tumble lads so our play clothes were changed on a daily basis. I remember many occasions when Dad or Mom pulled my pants down in public to administer a bare-ass spanking. I think I was 13 or 14 when I got my last spanking at home. I forgot to put some of Dad's tools back in the shed when I was done using them. Dad found the tools out by the driveway. He dragged me out of the house by arm, had me pick up the tools and put them back in their proper places. Then he took me around outside of the shed, told me to drop my pants and to put my hands on the wall. Next thing I heard was the leather belt being pulled out of his belt loops. He folded that belt in half and swung hard and it met my ass with a loud slap. He kept asking: "Are you ever going to forget to put my tools away, again?" And every time I answered "No, Sir!" he would swing the belt again. I didn't count how many times, but think I got 10 or 12 cracks with the belt. Finally, he said something like: "See to it you don't forget." and I pulled my pants up and we walked back to the house together. My ass was a bright beet-red and it was very uncomfortable to sit for the rest of the night. But, I never forgot to put the tools away ever again!

The last time I was paddled in school was when I was 16. A boy in my gym class (aka phys ed) picked a fight with me and I'm not one to back down. He took a swing to my stomach and I took a swing to his head. He was on the floor and I was still standing when the Coach intervened, and he didn't care about the details. We both got the punishment for fighting: pull your gym-shorts down (jock-straps were mandatory) lean against the lockers and we each got three smacks on our bare asses with the paddle. All the boys were gathered around to watch.
Spanking kids was common when I myself was a kid and freeballing was not scarce…so this had to match and make sparks at one time or another.
I hold this story from my Mom...This was from a time I was not yet born. It certainly was an example in inducing her in having later her kids having lederhosen shorts and wearing them commando.
When young, in her twenties, she was working in Switzerland, close to Germany, as a border worker at this time, right after WW2.

 One summer day she saw parents with their two children on the market place of this little town she was working. They were speaking German. The father, and the children, whose eldest was perhaps thirteen or fourteen years old and the youngest ten years old, were all the three wearing fairly short lederhosen. A thing which was common in those days. Things weren't going well between the kids. they were angry and bickering between each other, not to say fighting right in the middle of the market. There had been several warnings , but they continued. At one point the mother grabbed the youngest one by the suspenders of the lederhosen, unbuttoned them, and lowered down the shorts . The father did the same thing with the eldest. The two of them ended up with their butts in the air directly. None of both had any underwear. They got several well felt slaps on butt without any other form of trial, and they began to squeal, to cry. And quickly, they pulled up their lederhosen on their red buttocks, tied their suspenders, and were calmed down, without asking for anything else.
My parents, in the sixties, were in favor of long lasting things.
In this way, Mom had thought to such lederhosen shorts she used to see on German boys, for her own boys, ; sturdy shorts fearing nothing, and easy to care.
Needless to say, with a husband who had also always been a freeballer, my Mom soon had us bro, and I, start wearing our lederhosen commando part time.
 
At nine, I had my very first experience of spanking with the martinet, French flail with 12 leather straps. on my bare butt by my friend’s neighbor mom. I wrote this here and elsewhere, so I will skip it.
But this very first spanking, outside home, had made me confident when undressing, commando or not, in front of foreigners.
My second and last experience with the martinet one bare ass was with a Priest during my first communion week retreat.
At twelve, though a good pupil, I was rather turbulent and undisciplined during what I considered as non-important and non-interesting courses at school. My parents knew this. They were often asking me to behave also during these courses.
By the month of May of this year, I had this week of première communion retreat.A full week in a seminary. It had been firstly introduced to me as some sort of a vacation, but in fact it came out it was not.
For this retreat, my parents all together, told me and warned me that on the form they signed, they ticked the box allowing “normal corporal punishments”, as it was written on this paper.
I had not dared to ask my parents what a "normal corporal punishment” might be.
Dressing had been asked to be casual in order to be outdoors, without further precision. So naturally Mom had told me I would take my new lederhosen she had got me this spring.
From the very first day I tried this new lederhosen, I never had worn any underwear under it, even the few times I wore it at school.  My dick and balls, still small, and were hardly visible under that still too big shorts, when cuffs were unfolded.
At the age of junior high school, my parents didn't care with this anymore, considering this lack of underwear now was hardly visible, to the contrary of previous years, when in short shorts which were actually so short in those times . So it has been up to me to discard more and more binding uncomfortable briefs.
 
Very quickly after the arival in the seminar I learnt what these normal corporal punishments were. The priests explained during the introduction meeting of this week session, they would use use the martinet, adding every body should have been spanked with it when at home.
It indeed happened soon I had the oportunity to test the priests’ martinet before the end of the week.
We were having classes all morning long, and it was soon rather boring for me. In the afternoon, it was better, with more playing and discussing, outdoors.

Among other things, we had pre-printed notebooks with drawings and sentences we had to complete or fill up.
At a time, not the very first day, the Priest in charge of my class spotted on a notebook a drawing completed in a particularly irreverent way. Initially it was a man standing, his head bowed respectfully in front of a Calvary. We were supposed to colour the drawing, and put an sentence under the drawing, to comment it. Instead, the happy owner of the notebook had nicely drawn a stream of urine towards the Calvary.
I found this drawing very funny. I could not help stop laughing.
The priest who had seen this angryly asked him to get up, to come to the front desk, and to take off his shorts and underwear if any. He had underwear. The boy was red with shame. He had to take off his briefs in front of everyone else here in this classroom.
The Priest opened the desk drawer and took a huge martinet from it. This martinet in the drawer was just surprising and an unexpected thing.
Although not a keen connoisseur of martinets, it seemed bigger to me than my neighbour’s one I tried a three years before..
While swinging, the dark menacingly straps were certainly much longer and thicker and heavier.
The "normal corporal punishments" were on the hor
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