Spanking Ball

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Spanking Ball
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 horizon...
The Priest made the boy turn his back to the room, his legs apart, his body horizontal.  And it started for something fifteen good shots, well sent with force. The sound of the clacking resounded in the silent room. Our humourist lost his sense of humour and began to cry. He understood that caricature was a difficult art, not always appreciated at its true value.

In my corner, during the punishment, I was taken by an irresistible giggle as I asked myself what the Fathers and the Priests in general could wear under their dresses and their cassocks. For me, the way he order the boy to remove his short pant and his underwear in his anger, it was clear that for the Priest mind, underwear was optional, far from necessary. I was thinking back to his words: "And underwear too..., if you wear any! ». What was he wearing under his cassocks? Did he even have anything? Totally naked, it must have been extraordinary, but after all?...

I was spotted, and the Priest thought it was the idea of the drawing that made me laugh like that. I was invited to get up and go to the front desk. I couldn't help but laugh. The class and the man of religion realized it. In a way, I was pretty confident at what was coming. Still hilarious, and now a little excitedly proud, I calmly removed my leather shorts, facing the class, while my predecessor painfully put back his underwear.

To the contrary of him, I had lost all modesty. As I already undressed in the dormitory in front of others in the evenings and had seen during recess, and afternoon games, that I was not the only boy freeballing during this retreat, I didn't mind undressing in front of this class . In a silly way, I was proud of this situation, and the class felt it.

 A little bit more, and it was going to turn into a show and a big laugh for the whole class.

Then the Priest told me, loud enough for everyone to hear:
" Well, I'm going to take care of you seriously and make you definitely want to stop to laugh at Christ ! ». 
 And, turning towards the room:
 "If there are still caricature drawing fans, they can get up, and get ready in line, they'll be welcome!"
With these words, my giggle stopped sharply.
Being ordered to bend, the spanking started.
The long straps wrapped well around the buttocks and wrapped vigorously around the thighs.
It slammed hard on the buttocks and behind the thighs, and even on the back of the balls for a few.
The sound of slamming seemed me to be very loud in my head.
My recollection now is that this had been much more painful, than the first time I got the martinet with my friend’s mother.
Again, I managed not to cry. However, sitting directly back on the wooden chair was not easy and was very painful. I felt like I was bleeding, but obviously, groping with my hand under my shorts, I wasn't.


The priest put a note for my parents in my catechism book. When I came back home, I quickly said that I had been punished, not waiting they find it out. My father said that this was fine for my butt. …And my mother said I got what I deserved .  If I hadn't said anything, I probably would have been spanked again. I gave them all the details of the story, and also to my brother who was here. At the end,t hey all frankly laughed, neither knowing whether a Priest might go commando under a cassock.
This is my story with martinet bare ass and a catholic priest.

At school, I have never been spanked bare ass...
I have had experience of being spanked while freeballing. In my family it was expected that underwear was worn so if my brother or I decided to go without it was done secretly.

When I was about 15 a friend and I were experimenting with cigarettes. We had bought a packet and lit up down by the river -as we thought away from prying eyes.

When we got home later my father asked where we had been and what we had been doing Of course I was less than truthful but then he said a nosy neighbour and seen us and reported to him. The game was up - I was ordered to drop trousers and bend over the table. He spotted that there was no underwear to be seen and when asked why I could only say I felt like going without. so it was a lengthy belting - some strokes for lieing, some for smoking and some for freeballing!
When he was finished he sked my pal what did he want to do - accept a spanking or go home knowing that my dad would speak to his and then deal with him. My pal dropped his trousers - he was wearing briefs but my dad said Frank got it bare so you will too, briefs down but not as many strokes as he wan't going commando.

I have read various accounts of other guys being spanked while freeballing. There was one guy who went to a public school in Scotland where the kilt was part of the uniform. Some of the senior boys didn't wear underwear. In one class he was called to the front of the class for misbehaviour. He had to bend over, the teacher lifted his kilt and applied the tawse to his bare bottom in front of the entire class.

Another person recalled his friend being "sentenced" to a caning (in the UK) before the whole school assembly. The head master told him to lower his trousers, he did and in so doing bared his bottom as he never wore undewear. This didn't prevent the head master from caning him on the bare. The person recalling the event remembered that his parents. on being told the story, expressed no surprise at either the lack of underwear or the caning on the bare. 
Frankxrod

Apologies - not exactly on topic - but your story brought up a good point. I was an altar boy growing up, and had several friends who were as well. One friend and I in particular one summer decided that given that we both wore shorts, no one would know the difference if we ditched them. Summers we both went commando so we both knew this explicitly meant being naked under our cassocks. Next Sunday while getting ready for mass we took the plunge - no shirts, no pants. We hid them in a box in the room, giggled a bit as we got ready. But it FELT AMAZING! That mass no one seemed to notice but there was something we hadn't considered - it felt so good, and being 12, when we would kneel there was apparently a bit of a "tent". 

One day after mass instead of going to greet people or going into his chambers to put away his vestments the priest (the younger of 2, who had only been a priest a short time) followed us to OUR changing room and talked casually. We kept waiting for him to leave so we could get dressed and meet our parents. He wouldn't go. He just kept talking until my parents came by looking for me. He apologized and said he had held us up talking, but we were free to change and go anytime. At first my mom was beaming - she kind of wanted me to be a priest I think, and me chatting at length with him when I didn't have to was clearly a good sign. Dad was less amused and clearly ready to get on with his Sunday. He said ok, it was time to move on - put up your things and lets go. No one left. Ummmm. 

So I went to our box, pulled my shorts out and slipped them over my shoes and pulled them up as discreetly as I could, but it was obvious what we had been up to. As I pulled off my surplus and cassock I was also shirtless - grabbed that and put it on. My mom was open-mouthed. Dad was like - I'm so sorry, Father - I will deal with this when we get home. Now here's the great thing: the priest said it was quite all right and at seminary had not been all that unusual, so punishment wasn't necessary, but 1) we just needed to remember that at mass the point was to keep our focus on God - being comfortable was not a sin, but if we were doing what we were doing with impure thoughts (we were) THAT was a sin. and 2) if I was ever interested in seminary, he would be happy to sit down and talk to me about it. I must confess now that I DID go and talk to him about it because that kept me from a good ass-whipping and the lingering dismay and disappointment of my mother. She was prepared to forgive me IF I considered a vocation lol. Dad told me in light of the priests recommendation he wouldn't whip me THIS time.

You'd think after that we'd have given it up. We didn't.
Altar Boy,
Your story of this priest who didn’t mind you would be as an altar boy, completely bare under your white cassock for the mass brings me a new light on my spanking in this seminar.
I didn’t put all the details here in what I wrote above. Indeed this priest who spanked me was not a regular priest, but a Father of something or somewhere. He didn’t have the regular black cassock, roman collar, black shoes and so on. He had a brown robe, tighten at the waist by a rope, no shirt was visible, but chest directly, no legs of a long pant, and he was bare feet in leather sandals. The reason why I thought I might have been totally bare under his cassock, and hence my uncontrollable giggle. Anyway, the way he told this boy to undress, up to bare butt, clearly implied underwear was just in his mind an option. And he didn’t care or comment about my freeballing either.
May be this Father was actually totally bare under his robe? Over fifty years after, I still don’t have the answer, but what you say here makes my thought of the time actually realistic.
Sounds like a Franciscan. Don't know if they wear underwear.
Altar boy,

I was an altar server too - never had the balls to try wearing nothing under vestments. Then again the sacristan was normally in the room with the servers so it wouldf have been difficult. You mentioned that the priest saved you from an ass whipping. How dd your father whip you and would he absence of underwear make any difference?
I suppose priests are individuals tpoo but in my experience most priests are fully dressed under their "habits" i.e they wear trousers and shirts.
On a somewhat related note, I heard that a Protestant minister reached inside his alb to get a handkerchief out of his pants pocket and then remembered that since it was a warm day, he was only wearing underwear under his alb!
Franxrod - apologies for the delay. Yes the priests were always fully dressed under their vestments. Including the younger priest who saved my hide lol. But apparently it wasn't always so at seminary.

My dad used a leather belt - and yes, if I had the choice I would have had briefs on as opposed to bare skin for spankings. Mom used a wooden spoon on the back of our legs. And my friends dad had him cut a switch off the tree. Those things left marks! My dads belt had some raised areas, and those weren't fun either.

Fortunately, it didn't happen too often.
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October 21, 2020
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Impact Play
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