Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Colin from had a link I all wanted to RE-share with you. I had found this out of nowhere back in the '90s and suddenly I posted it.  Well, Colin turns out to be the source!  This should surprise no one who knows Colin's out of the ballpark excellent work.

Colin's work is something that any boy or Sir should respect and appreciate.  He's dedicated to the art and the wisdom behind corporal punishment as a solution to the ills that cause atrocious behaviour.

As he shows on his site in ads that he's scoured the internet for, including this one:, he had a handle on the very essence of why spankings are so important and why they make boys behave better.

Enjoy this Friday's Foto! And turn in regularly to Colin's updates at

(# . #)

Friday, May 18, 2012

A special thanks to the Spanking Bloggers Network for this terrific memory.  And thanks to Fox and Rupert Murdoch for bringing these subversives into our lives.

Wednesday, May 16, 2012

Revisiting the April 17th Post on DoubleSeat Briefs

May 6, 2012:
Since posting this entry back on April 17th I've had some great offlline feedback.  I thought I should loop you all back in:

The first came from a reader in Melbourne, Australia, and then I got some great comments from from adultboy in New Jersey, USA:

first time In years that I seen a young man wearing double seat briefs ..when I was a boy 60's I always wore these but still didn't give much protection from the strap . nice pic
  • 17 hours ago
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Adult Boy

those look like 2xist double-seated briefs. tiger also makes an even more traditional double-seated brief. they certainly take us back to our boyhood -- though some of us are sorta always in our boyhood!
  • 17 hours ago
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Adult Boy

to Jake: but double-seated briefs don't protect all THAT much, and most dads don't stop until they pull those briefs down! my dad never ends a spanking on briefs! 8-(

    I had some thoughts that I thought you'd all appreciate...

    Razorstrap 28!  Thanks for the info about being a boy wearing these in the 60s. I too had these briefs, butt in the 70s.

    Adult Boy: OMG, you are so right about the actual protection issue. One of the most frustrating things about being a boy is how often we end up in a situation where we aren't even able to protect our bottoms and end up with our underpants down around our knees even wearing full seat briefs like these.

    I don't think this pic is 2xist's doubleseat briefs. Whoever this boy is, his underpants are the real deal, serious from olden days.

    The Tiger Brand ones have been evolving both for the better and the not so better. I think that he's got a great operation ger. His first efforts were too loose in the leg loops, though, so a bit baggy if you bought the blue dash briefs. The red dash 50/50 briefs are a little more snug. Now with his new Tiger label, they're much tighter, and boyish, but provide a lot more coverage.  :-(

    The older version with the red-dashes are much briefer and really don't leave much coverage and make being spanked in them really painful for the boyz who have to wear them.

    Thanks for weighing in, Daddy Razorstap28 and adultboy!
    (# . #)

    Adult Boy is online.

    Jake, thanks for the update on Tiger briefs. You're so right: boys just end up in situations where there is NO protection cause we've been bad and we are getting spanked by dads who know that spankings have to hurt a lot in order to teach their lessons. I'll be having one of those "talks" with my dad this week. :-(


    In my Daddy's house, we have a rule. You have to "go" before we "leave." I found out the other day that this isn't a rule he just makes up to make my life harder. Daddy makes rules for a reason, as it turns out.

    So, I had a bad day on my way out the door the other day. I hadn't "gone" before I "left" the house. Daddy had warned me that we wouldn't be able to stop and "go" somewhere easily, but I didn't listen. I didn't like to wait around. I like to bolt, and think about things later.

    This isn't a good strategy.

    I ended up "going" in my pants as I scurried out on a pretty long walk, one that was much longer than I had remembered it to be. Thanks to my doubleseat briefs, I hadn't made a complete mess, but I did have to find a handicapped bathroom and washed out my underpants in there. Rolled them in papertowels and put them in my backpack. Dressed in my pants with no briefs on at this point, I headed out again. Beat red in the face, I had to find a place open at 9 a.m. (nowhere near a shopping area) for new underpants. I went to the CVS pharmacist (He was the only man in the store), "Do you guys sell men's underpants?"

    "No we don't, son. Not anymore." No luck.

    I ran to the Safeway and checked out the store. No luck there either.

    I walked over to another drug store and looked around. Nothing. I thought boys briefs were something you could always get at the pharmacy. Right? At any rate, that was something that wasn't gonna happen. Then a couple of doors up the strip mall was a "variety store," like a cross between a fabric store and a dollar store. There on the second row next to blank t-shirts of every color imaginable was a wall of Fruit of the Loom briefs for boys (and some men sizes too, but they were waaaaay tooo big for my tiny frame).

    With no other options, I had to buy what were really tight youth larges. Grateful that my debit card worked (I only had $6 in cash, and it was $8.47 for a bag of three boys briefs (!), I found myself with a fresh pair of clean underpants for the day.

    Whew!  Finally, I was in a better place, ready to have a Happy Underwear Day.

    It was  really hard to concentrate though as I had meetings and other things for work I had to do. Sitting there in the office in my tiny, little boy briefs was pretty tough to do. But...

    You know, eventually you have to go back home at the end of the day for dinner. And well, it's probably not a surprise that Daddy was a little curious when I ran into the house, ran to the washing machine and tossed my semi-wet underpants in there. He went in behind me and looked over my shoulder, wondering why I was bolting in the house, when I know I'm not supposed to run inside.

    He made me explain why they were a little mildewed at this point, and what had happened.  I explained, but could see he wasn't real happy with me. He wanted to know what I had been wearing all day. I had to pull my pants down and show him.
    When he saw underpants that were not my own, I got a talking to. I have plenty of underpants at home, and buying new clothes is a waste of money (something we don't have a ton of), when you already have perfectly good briefs at home. And besides, if I just did what I have been instructed to do: "go" before I "leave" this never would have happened.

    And I suppose if I'd just done as I'd been told a thousand times before, this wouldn't have happened either.

    I was sent to bed immediately after this spanking, nursing my red fanny and thinking...well, at least now I know why they make boys briefs with a double seat. They're great protection for spankings too!

    Tuesday, May 15, 2012

    Time to Come Out and Play

    Little Jake stood there and thought about what he had done and what had happened to correct those things.  It seemed like a good long time, and then finally Daddy Gillen said, “Come on, Jake, time to come out to play.”
    But Jake didn’t know what to do. Shamed in front of all the other boys.

    Then, little johnny tapped Jake on the shoulder and finally got his attention. Little Johnny was one of Jake’s best friends at camp.  He came up to Jake and, standing a couple of feet away, tossed a stick at him, “Come on, Jake, catch!”  It was a paddle for some game.

    Jake wasn’t familiar with that game in which this particular paddle was used, but Jake quickly found himself getting lost in the play room.   It was a long, fun afternoon after that as all the other Daddies showed the boys how the paddles were used in the various games they played.  But it was hard to not get a little queasy, and Jake couldn’t really drink water because it kept burning like crazy.  Not until sundown did Jake’s tongue start to go back to normal. By that time it was dinner.

    He wasn’t gonna be able to eat without his mouth being on fire.  The hygienic burn of the green soap was with him until he went to bed that night. Daddy Gillen understood, and when Jake went to him to explain why he couldn’t eat his dinner, he was excused to go to his room and lie on his tummy.  Jake really loved his daddy for that, it made him feel taken real good care of and understood completely.

    The sting in his mouth reminded him of the sting on his bottom and how that hairbrush has something that he also loved Mr. Gillen for. He grew to respect that hairbrush and put it gently on the dresser table, turned out the light and cried himself to sleep that night in his bunk bed at camp.

    Daddy’s Little Helper 
    With that memory seared into Jake’s behind he knew Mr. Gillen would want to know he could put any behavioral problems immediately to rest this Memorial Day weekend, so that brush would go on the dresser of his little boy’s room at the Poconos as expectedjust like it had at camp last year. Jake also brought along another critical little kitchen helper.  Mr. Gillen was likely to try teaching Jake new things, like burger-making and tomato-slicing and bacon frying, but as he well knew, few burgers come to the table without some bun warming before meal time.

    So Jake had one of Mr. Gillen’s trusted butter paddles with a knotted rope-holder for an eye-hook in the kitchen, ready to be “at the ready” should the time come.  Jake shouldn’t have put off packing up his things the night before.  It had left him on edge and worried about things he’d forgotten.  He’d gotten so excited about dressing in all his playing shorts, hiking shorts and swimming trunks, he’d completely forgotten to bring long trousers!

    This was the mountains they were going to and he’d have to spend the entire weekend in short shorts.  He even forgot his PJs.  He’s never slept in just his briefs before or sat in front of the TV and watcedh TV in just his spiderman pans.   He didn’t even have his Halloween batman cape to wear with his briefs could so he show off his Halloween costume to Mr..  He loved to run around the house in this costume as a superhero. It was his cross between batman and spiderman ,and he completely forgot to bring his costume.  

    Mr. Gillen had never allowed him to sit around after dinner time in front of the TV, unless it was going to be in his PJs.  PJs were required. Underpants in front of the TV? That was for the bigger boys, not Jake.  This was going to be a weekend of learnin all sorts of new big boy things.  Perhaps he’d try it and see if Mr. Gillen would allow him to behave like a big boy.

    The train was taking too long. Jake was getting frustrated.  If he could of, he would of yelled at the conductor to speed through Trenton and Metro Park, but truth be told, Jake couldn’t find the conductor.  In Thomas the Tank Engine, the conductor is way easier to find.

    Anyways, Mr. Gillen was a great daddy.  He knew just what to say and to do.  When Jake got down, Mr. Gillen cheered him up.  When Jake was listening real close, Mr. Gillen would tell great stories.  And when Jake didn’t wanna listen and just wanted to pout and lay around, Mr. Gillen knew how to light a fire under Jake’s behind to grab that boy’s attention.

     As we already saw, Mr. Gillen sometimes had to wash Jake’s mouth out with soap.  There was this one time at camp, where one of the other boys, Pete was laughing really hard at Jake, when he saw Jake getting a spanking.  When Jake was standing in the corner, thinking about what he’d done, Pete came over and started calling him a big crying baby.

    But Mr. Gillen said, “Now Jake, just ignore him.  Pete’s being a brat, and if he doesn’t watch out, I’ll get his daddy over here, and tell him what he's up to.”  At camp, Daddys like Mr. Gillen didn’t take liberties without being sure the other Daddies didn’t mind.   But Mr. O’Donnell, Pete’s daddy, really didn’t mind that Pete was so feisty and badly behaved.  Pete seemed to never get his rumpus paddled in public.

    And that just burned Jake more than his hot little fanny did and so he blurted out at Pete, “Shut up, shut up, shut up you peckerhead snotnose.”   Mr. Gillen pulled Petey away, who was crying, “What did you call me?  What did you call me?!”

    And as Jake repeated himself, Mr. Gillen marched Jake to the sink in the boys bathroom, grabbed the bar of green smelly soap and proceeded to push it past jake’s yammering lips.  In an out he did and with intermittent spanks to Jake’s already red bottom.  Sorer and more sore his fanny got, but the soap put Jake directly back in his place.

    After the hollering, Jake quieted right down.  And little snotty Petey? He cowered away slowly and quietly knowing a real man was in charge and no shenanigans were gonna be accepted.    

    But Jake didn’t see Mr. Gillen’s actions as a bad thing at all.  He knew Mr. Gillen really cared for him an made him a better boy.  If Pete wasn’t such a chicken an hid behind his lousy dad, he could be one of Mr. Gillen’s boys too.  But this was Servicemen’s weekend--Memorial Day, and in the Webeloes he'd learned all about it. And this time there would be no Pete whose behavior was so bad and made Jake always look good in comparison. And so Jake would have to be on his best behavior.

    Jake knew how out of hand he was getting living away from his favorite Daddy Gillen. In fact, the older he got, the more out of hand he was becoming. Chances are that Mr. Gillen would take him over his knee a time or two this weekend, but then after Cornertime and some punishment chores or some such, everything would be great again and the two of them would be telling stories, swimming in the chilly lake, and cooling little Jake’s bottom down after a moment of high-handed hijinx.

    Frankly, Jake considered himself real lucky.  A whole weekend, where his every step, his every action would be considered, catered to, sometimes dealt with, and always sealed with a big boy promise to be good next time, then…away we go, on to the next adventure.

    At Newark, the anticipation was killing him, so he sat on the carpeted area in front of the last row of seats and repacked his messy suitcase, so everything fit.   He ran to the potty and washed his hands. There, he tied on his black-bottomed tennis shoes with the crazy spider stripes laid over the white background and black mesh tops and hiked up his horizontal striped ankle socks, tucked his Captain Underpants t-shirts into his own Old Navy “scary” jack-o-lantern underpants that he got for Halloween–that 3-pack also come with briefs with creepy crawly spiders on the outside–right on the rumpus (!)

    Then pulled up his yellow shorts, opened the toilet door and sat like a good boy on the edge of the train seat on what would be the last time for three days that his little rumpus would be under his control. ”Penn Station!  Penn Station!  This train goes on to Boston.  If you’re not going to Boston, you need to be getting off this train.”  Up Jake got!

    You didn’t need to tell Jake Teneby twice, he thought to himself.

     Well...sometimes you did, but that was another matter entirely.    

    Monday, May 14, 2012

    Stuck in the Boys Room

    Unprepared to be trapped in the boys room when another boy was being soundly spanked, Mikey found himself in a tight spot. How could he get out of there when Mr. Gillen seemed so preoccupied with giving Jake what looked like it would become an old fashioned hair brush spanking?

    An Old Fashioned Hairbrush Spanking and Much-needed Cornertime

    Mr. Gillen didn't look happy with Jake, would Mikey find himself in trouble too? Daddy John stopped the disciplining for a moment. “Now scoot, Mikey, Jake’s gonna get his paddling now. You wait outside and tell the other boys Jake will be out and playing with them in a little bit.”     \

    Mikey scooted out between them and in a state of  alarm, said, “Yes Sir! I will do that right now, Mr. Gillen.”

     “There’s a good boy, Mikey,” said Mr. Gillen.  "See Jake, you can talk like a good boy if you just try…”

    And the old fashioned hair brush spanking began as his paddle came down again and again across Jake’s bottom. Jake's legs flailed in the air wildly,and he cried with the creamy soap pouring out of his bawling maw. When the paddling began to slow up, Jake knew he was right to be where he was, and he whimpered more quietly now.

    Tears of pain had been running and running away from his eyes like a dog that finds out its owner has left the gate open.

     Daddy Gillen finally spoke when as he stopped, “Now settle down, and wash your mouth out with the water, little man.”  He pulled Jake to his feet.  He patted Jake’s bottom and began to talk gently,

    “You’re going to be a good little boy now Jake. You’re going to make daddy happy. And you will enjoy the rest of your stay here. This won't happen again, will it?"

     Jake was nodding, crying, and his legs were shaking.  He’s knees were buckling, but he felt oddly better--like he really could be a good little boy for the rest of the day and he wouldn't really have to try. Like he realized that given the options, he really would rather play with the other boys. If only they hadn’t seen him getting' in trouble with his undershorts pulled down like that.
    Thanks in advance to StingTV for the still image.

    He wasn’t sure how to do it--how to go back in front of all those boys and just play and goof and have fun. Would they laugh at him?   Daddy Gillen was walking him back into the main room.

    Then that’s when it came at him, full force straight from Petey's mouth, “Ha, ha, little Jakey got his mouth washed out with soap!”

     But Mr. Butler said, “Pipe down, Petey, watch your mouth, or you’ll be next.”

    And a big yard stick came down splat across Pete McConnell’s lower thigh.  With a yipe! Petey piped down.

    Mr. Gillen walked Jake to the corner and had him face the corner with his pants down and little jockey pants just below his warmed buns.

    “Now stand here, us men and the other boys don’t need to see your face right now.”

    And Mr. Gillen went to talk with the other Daddies for a good long while.

    Little Jake stood there and thought about what he had done and what had happened to correct those things.

    Saturday, May 12, 2012

    Friday Foto

    It's that time of the week again: Friday Foto.
    Youch!  Looks Like Daddy Ross' Work!

    I just wanted to share with all of you who have already shared with me and thank you all for your spirited insight, advice, and willingness to converse with me.

    A reminder, I can be reached at for long form questions.

    Also, a shout out to:
    • RealSpankingStories Yahoo Group
    • Boy and Boyfriend blog
    • and the many, many of you who have been emailing me. I so appreciate it and hope to bring your stories to these blog pages in the months to come.
    Sooooooo for now, have a stellar weekend, and I hope your fanny gets warmed real good or you get to spank the boy of your dreams this weekend.

    See ya Monday!

    Thursday, May 10, 2012

    The Bar of Soap Goes In

    When last we left naughty jake, we saw Little Mikey stuck behind the door as he was about to see Jake get in trouble with Daddy Gillen.  Jake's face was staring at the bowl of the sink in the boys room. He'd found himself bent over as Daddy John prepared to take matters in his own hands. The inappropriate language for a boy his age had to stop, and someone was going to have to clean it up. Daddy John prepared to do just that.

    The soap in the boys room just sits there in the built in dish/holder/thing and gets soft and gross, and when Daddy Gillen turned the water on, Jake didn’t really know exactly what was about the happen. He’d heard about what had happened to other little boys who used bad language, but he hadn’t been so brave as to mouth off in front of Mr. Gillen before, so this was unknown territory.

    Jakey knew better than to use that language, and his mind was racing about what to say now, so whatever was about to happen, didn't happen. And he knew that the soap could only mean one thing unless there were other things that Daddy Jake used it for to make some other point about cleanliness or something. But he couldn’t fathom, if what was going to happen was really going to happen, he just couldn't figure how that bar wasn’t going to get stuck in his mouth.

    But Mr. Gillen pulled Jake by the scruff of his neck, right down to the sink’s lip and started pushing the bar against Jake’s lips.  It wasn’t working, and Jake figured out that if he didn’t open his mouth, there was no way the whole situation was going to get out of his control.

    That’s when the hairbrush suddenly appeared out of nowhere and landed across Jake’s fanny.  Blam! Blam!  Snapping to attention and yelping from the stinging pain, Jake responded with a yelp!
    Thanks in advance to for the still.

    His mouth popped open and in went the bar all green and yucky and stinging. Now his mouth was chalky and stinging from the alkaline nastiness. That’s when the crying started in earnest.

    And Mr. Gillen started scrubbing the bar back and forth, “Now, we will not hear anymore of that language from you at all and…”  the soap was filling up his lower jaw and dripping from his lip. Jake was moaning and pouting, and Mikey was completely scared and drawn to this and wondering what the heck he should do.

    But Daddy Gillen was fully in charge now, and he knew exactly how to handle the situation as he continued, "...have no more of your griping and moping.  You will…” the soap was beginning to burn and hurt, and Jake started feeling the fumes bubbling into his nose.

    The brush was bouncing across Jake’s other end with a fury that seemed to have a mind of its own, because when the scrubbing back and forth would stop the swats on his bottom would start!  Paddle, paddle, paddle, that spanking stick was cracking searing marks across his rumpus

    And his fanny was completely bared when Mr. Gillen yanked down the seat of Jake's undies with a grasp and a tug.

    "You will behave. You will pay attention to me when I’m talking to you, and you…” the tears were coming loud and Jake’s mouth was wide open as the soap fell into the sink and he cried with a full blown bawl.

    The scrubbing of the harsh soap had stung and hurt and hurt and hurt. And the paddle was working its way across his left cheek again and again.

     Daddy Gillen heard the plop into the water filled sink and the soap was inserted again and again across Daddy Gillen’s boy’s other end.   “… you will join all of us in the rec room after this is all over…” and Jake just was crying and crying. That’s when Mr. Gillen stopped soaping Jake’s tongue, turned him over his knee by propping his own knee against the sink in the boys room.

     That’s when Mr. Gillen noticed Mikey.

    Wednesday, May 9, 2012

    Am I Going to Have to Wash Your Mouth Out With Soap?

    When we last left our hero, he was in a bit of a pickle. Daddy John had marched him to the playroom at camp. badboyjake had put Mr. Gillen (Daddy John) in a situation where he had no option: it was time that Jakey get a spanking.
    Daddy John's Hand on badboyjake's Red Rumpus

    Jake was too shocked by all the faces looking at the commotion. Daddy Gillen, however, was on a mission.  

    “Come here with me, young man.”  Mr. Gillen walked Jake over to the chair on the left side of the room and pulled little Jake by the seat of the pants to where he stood.  He turned Jake towards him, looked at the panic in his little boy face and began tugging his little shorts down.  

    Jake started crying louder and louder, even before the first smack.

    His face was pouting, but then Mr. Gillens hand slapped his thigh, as he raised his voice and said, “You’re going right over my knee.  Right now…” The sound of the first smacking hand on Jake’s rumpus startled everyone.  They were all seeing it, but none of them could believe it was really happening.

     Jake had frankly really bummed out most of them, so they were kinda glad to see Jake with his shorts down getting spanked. There were some giggles and then bam! The spanking quickened and quickened and the crying got louder and louder.  

    Smack! went Daddy Gillen’s hand on Jake's fanny.

    The snap of hand on bottom was sounding out again and again, and Jake’s bottom bounced under Daddy Gillen’s directions.  

    “This will never, ever happen again, will it?  Will it?!”  

    “Stop it!" cried out Jake  "Stop it, dammit!”  

    The boys all heard that one, “Woooooooooooooooooo!” said Tommy.  “That’s going hurt, Jake.  You can’t talk that way to Mr. Gillen!”  
    Jake Knew Because It Had Happened Before

    “What did you say, Jake?” Mr. Gillen asked, sounding both disappointed and really fired up at Jake.

    “Did you not hear me on the porch?  You know I am really upset about that too, Jake.”

    As he pulled Jake to his feet, off his lap, Mr. Gillen held on tightly to the boy, who was pulling away and trying to yank up his little boy play shorts.  

     "Am I going to have to wash that mouth out with soap?  Am I?”   Jake just nodded with some real concern. He wouldn’t, would he?  Not in front of everyone…it’s just too awful.

    But he knew he had used that word when he was absolutely not allowed to. That’s about the time Mr. Gillen got up and did doubletime towards the boys room. 

    There, pulling Jake right behind him. Little Mikey Romeo had been in there peeing in the bathroom and got stuck between the sink and the exit and had to watch the whole thing or risked having to squeeze right past them.

    There was no time to get out of there! That would have been too weird, so Mikey just waiting.

     And watched.

    Tuesday, May 8, 2012

    A Trip to the Rec Room

    On a long train ride to visit with Daddy John at Wallenpaupack, Jake began to reflect on the first time Daddy had to spank him.

    Jake knew Mr. Gillen had great command of the hairbrush because of what had happened at what Jake will forever call Camp Red Tails many years ago. You see, there was this time when Jake had refused to join the rest of the boys.

    Jake was real tired (or “Just plan lazy and stubborn,” as Mr. Gillen determined, Jake just couldn’t remember which it was) and he refused to get up and join the other boys in the game room.  Everyone had gotten together earlier just because Jake had made such a stink about getting together earlier in the day.  Now with everyone assembled for play time, Jake refused to come out and play.

     Mr. Gillen wasn’t going to have Jake ruining everyone’s day just because he felt he could be all like "I don't care now" whenever he wanted be. Jake decided he’d just lie on his tummy on the porch of the big house at the center of camp.  The sun was hot and the air was dry.  The Sierra Madres were burning up that day.

    It was a good time to disobey Mr. Gillen’s repeated instructions to come and join the group.

    There was Petey, John, Mr. Butler, and a bunch of other boys including Michael and Tommy, boys Jake loved to play with.  But Jake was just not going to.   But Mr. Gillen wouldn’t relent.  It was something he just couldn’t abide–willful disobedience from a boy after the boy had been demanding and demanding and Mr. Gillen had relented and said, “OK, Jake, I’ll get a gang together and we’ll all go play in the rec room.”

    That was just after lunch.  Then after eating way too much soda and bread, Jake didn’t eat himself a proper lunch, and he just got tired and crawled on the sofa on the porch.  But Jake had slipped under the radar.  The other boys and their Daddies all ran off to the rec room to play, but Jake was face down, feeling all the warm sun on the seat of his shorts.  

    Even Mr. Gillen didn’t see him hiding out on the porch.  But after a while of waiting, Mr. Gillen picked up his coffee mug and came back to the house.  That’s when he saw the little troublemaker, bottom up, lying on the couch.

    “What’s up, Jake?  Why aren’t you playing with the other boys?”

    “Well, I decided I don’t feel like it.”

    “Well, you better get up now, because the other boys are waiting. You had me call them over, mister. They’ve replanned their day around you, fella.”

    “No. I don’t want to.”

    ”Well, I can see that, but you are going to, because you made me do this for you.  I think you owe it to the other boys too.”

     “No I don’t”

     ”Yes you do. You know you do.”

    “No I don’t dammit.”

    “Jake!  Now don’t start using language that the other boys use.”

    “I didn’t. I know that word all by my self. I’m a big boy. You always say I get it from the other boys, but I’m a big boy. I can say those things myself.”

    “Well you better not any more.”

    “Will if I want to.”

    “No you will not.”

    “Will too.” And well negotiating with boys can sometimes take a while. You don't want to be quick to anger, but even for Daddy Gillen it doesn't take saying it three times...Mr. Gillen had just had it.

    But as a Daddy, he was really good. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn't have to.  Jake just knew when he was going get in trouble.

    ”Daddy, please let me alone.”

     ”Jake, it’s time to get up and come with me. You know why.”

     ”Ah, come on, daddy, please just lemme be.”  That’s when the firm hand of Mr. Gillen grabbed the waistband of Jake’s shorts and his left arm and lifted him right off the sofa.  Jake didn’t know what to do, he was so rattled, he just started crying out,

    “What?  What’s happening?  Why?  Put me down!”

    “Jake, I’m taking you to the play room, and you will play with the other boys. But first, you are going to have to learn to obey me.  You will shape up when I tell you to shape up. I feel like we’ve been here before, young man."

    Daddy Gillen thought and looked Jake square in the eyes, "So guess what, Jake, I’m not able to just be Nice Mr. Gillen,when you are behaving like a bad little boy. How do you like them apples?”

    “What?  What are you doing?” As Jake's sneakers brushed the dirt trail to the playhouse, as Mr. Gillen pulled little Jake kicking and screaming by the ear, “NO, no, no!”

    “Yes, young man, you will obey me.  And whenever you try to boss everyone around and then just crap out on us, there are consequences. We're not here for your amusement.  That’s not OK, ever!  You understand?”

     And a swat of the hand came squarely down on Jake’s bottom as the door to the play house opened and all the heads turned to look at the intruders who’d just burst into the room.

    “Don’t ever disobey again, do you hear me!?”

    Monday, May 7, 2012

    A Train Ride on the Hot Seat

    Today starts a serial story that I'll publish in installments. I wrote about my Spanking life with Daddy John several years ago when he invited me to his family's summer home in Wallenpaupack, Pa.

    He's from New York originally, but he's got a very old fashioned sense of disciplining boys that probably comes from all those years in that neighboring state where boys learn with their  butts burn. 

    He's a very good Daddy who knows how to keep boys like me in line. It was so exciting to get to live these adventures with him. It's been many years now, and though I don't get to see him much, when I do, I know it's going to be:! 

    A Great Time to be a Boy!

    Chapter One:  Waiting 

    The anticipation was killing him.

    This was the sort of anticipation you only have when you’re 8 years old and waiting to go on a weekend away field trip with your best friend’s family.

    • Will I have a great time? 
    • How will I sleep? 
    • Will I have to sit in the middle? And for how long? 
    • I wonder what kind of food they’ll have? 
    • What if I don’t like their food? 
    • Will I have to do chores too? 
    • Will we be able to play all day? 
    • Will they have TV? 
    • Is his daddy strict or fun? 
    • Is his big brother going to be fun to play with? 
    All he could do was hope.

    The train would take 3 ½ full, full hours and the car ride from Penn Station could be about another 2 ½ hours.  So Jake had a long way to just sit on his fanny and think.  As long as the weather remained only slightly overcast, the possibility of the thunderstorms typical of Memorial Day weekend and every other weekend now until summer’s end remained slim.

    Interestingly, there was nothing to indicate foul weather.   His instructions had been clear enough, and following instructions–while usually something he didn't like to do–was going to be just the best fun he could possibly hope for this weekend.  Get to Penn Station by 8:30 and we could be up at camp by 11pm!  Friday night would be all travel, but that would leave all day Sat and Sun for loosely structured play time; hiking through the words; free time when Mr. Gillen went to church; then lunch with his fellow congregants and many hours of fun in the sun, by the creek and in the psychological mind and body games they would make their holiday.

    It was interesting to think about Memorial Day weekend, as the train seemed to speed by the Eastern Seaboard.  Memorial Day was all about service.  Service to man, to country and in this case, Mr. Gillen, he thought.  And then there was Mr. Gillen’s ultimate service to jake.  He would take care of Jake this weekend.  Feeding him, getting him dressed in the morning, giving him responsibilities around the house, cooking with him, teaching Jake how to clean up, plant trees, be helpful, courtesy, and well-behaved. And then Jake would be tucked into bed at night and get a kiss on the forehead.  Jake had every intention of making Mr. Gillen proud of his big boy this weekend. But that anticipation had just been killing him.

    Jake couldn’t stand it much longer. He squirmed into his Amtrak seat, listening intently for each roar of the tooting train horn: did he pack everything he’d wanted packed?

    Jake knew the second he got to his room, he would get everything unpacked and put away in his new drawers. Mr. Gillen promised that Jake would get to stay in the room Mr. Gillen used to sleep in when he was Jake’s age. In fact it had been Mr. Gillen’s own Daddy's room when even he was 8 year’s old too!

    Jake had packed kinda messily the night before. He had been up ‘til gone midnight so he could try on each bit of clothing to make sure he’d look his best. He even flattened out his camping shorts with his hands, so all the wrinkles that were in the seat and the scrunched up parts in the upper legs came out. Mr. Gillen was likely to see there were new creases put into that seat, so it would really pay to have everything just right before the weekend got rolling.

    After fixing the seat of those shorts, Jake tried on every t-shirt, each pair of shorts and all of his underpants—the ones with the green trim on the leg loops and waist—which he decided would definitely be the pants he’d wear on the train ride.  Those were so bright they showed right through his white play shorts with the drawstring that Mr. Gillen’s other son John had given him at camp last year.  Jake loved those.  

    And he brought the ones with the cartoons of footballs and baseball bats and pennants on them.  Those were getting old and too small, but they sure looked great in the suitcase. He wondered how long he’d be able to wear those before the seat tore again (or were torn by an angry Daddy!) The front was already getting too tight for regular wearing comfort. Then he decided to lay out clothes that were all red or mainly red.

    Then the shirts and shorts that were yellow and blue—like his Nestle Quik bunny shirt and blue gym shorts. Then there was hiking clothes, big buster brown shoes with a big chunky heel, brown socks, camp-colored shorts for hiking and blue colored ones as a back up.  And his boy scout shirt with his troop #32 and the badges for his time in the Webelos (We'll Be Loyal Boy Scouts!).

    He’d love to show that to Mr. Gillen. Mr. Gillen will be so pleased with that shirt!   But he had a hunch Mr. Gillen was going to like the other things in his suitcase even more.

    The old-fashioned, flat-backed hairbrush was perfect for setting on the top of the dresser. Serving multiple purposes, (and originally a brush bought in a pet store!).

    But that brush had a double meaning and Jake knew it. Jake knew that  going to Daddy John's meant behaving. Because that brush could be used on Jake’s hair if he was good, or used to straighten him out, if he was very very bad.

    Saturday, May 5, 2012

    Friday Foto

    I hope you all enjoy your weekends. I am hoping Daddy Dennis finds time to put me over his knee this weekend.

    Are you planning for a good old fashioned hair brush spanking too? I hope so, if you are, please share your experiences. Either comment below or be sure to email me:

    On Monday begins the story of Jake and his trip to Camp Wallenpaupack.  It's a fictionalization (so the names do not incriminate anyone!) of a journey that Daddy John took me on a while ago.

    I'm so excited to have the opportunity to share part of the journey.

    The good news is, that I got so caught up in the sidestory about what happened at Camp Red Tails last summer, that I completely forgot to tell you about the spankings I got at Wallenpaupack.

    So that means there will be more to come! Yay!

    Thursday, May 3, 2012

    Bendwell Down School

    I wanted to share with you all an email I received a while ago about a Spanking school in Wales for wayward grown boys. Unfortunately, I think because I'm based in the states, they dropped communications, but it sounded like such a great idea:

    Here's the text from the email:

    "Hello boys. Weekend breaks for those with an interest in the school scene here at Bendwell Down School. The premises actually used to be an annexe to a Victorian boarding school (the actual school building is situated a little further down the lane). Accommodation is provided in a proper dormitory for up to 12 'pupils' and supper/breakfast is served in the dining room. 

    "There is a classroom and of course, my study! I am a true enthusiast with years of experience and therefore I recognise the desire for authenticity, ritual and a genuine atmosphere and I can assure you of all these elements. Discipline is firm but fair and will be enforced by use of hand, strap, slipper or cane. 

    "For serious breaches of the rules boys will be birched on their bare bottom during assembly, in front of all. 

    "Schoolwork will be done and lines and impositions given. There are usually two or three experienced, mature schoolmasters to look after you. Come on, give yourselves that break you deserve (literally) in the safe and sane company of those who truly share your interests."

    "A very sore bottom awaits that do not heed this warning. Mr A. Whackem."

    —(Headmaster) Bendwell Down School.

    (A special thanks to StingTV for a couple of the pics, completely unrelated to the email I received!)

    Bendwell Down was situated on the Cheshire-Shropshire border in a wonderfully historic setting in England. Near Wales, I believe.  The school motto...

    "Behaviour Determines Fate." 

    How do I find the school again...anyone know? Anyone have any way of recreating what sounded like a much, much needed experience for boys of all ages?


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    Wednesday, May 2, 2012

    My Favorite Teacher of All Times

    Here's to my favorite Japanese teacher. Pics of this particular "boys brigade" of bottom beating hit the internet back in the 90s. I was completely overwhelmed.

    There is actually a full story that went along with this article of a beloved teacher who kept his boys in line with a big stick and lots of caring teaching.

    If I can find the full story I will tell you, but from the images, here's what I can share:

    "According to the Watanabe method, corporal discipline is a necessary educational tool. Swift and demanding punishment teaches 'inner power' and strength. Judging form the smiles and mischievous glances, it appears to do no harm. The boys accept the rules of the game: “not getting caught” is as much a challenge here as anywhere.

    Mr. Watanabe also accepts the rules....He believes, though, that inner strength and responsibility are not easily taught and that a boy must learn to accept the authority of a teacher. 'This school is the best way to lead the boys,' says Watanabe. 'And this is something only understood between each boy and myself.'”

    Originally pulled from a site that doesn't appear to exist anymore from  Belgian.  But the owner has just gotten in touch with me and his name is Colin and the article can be found at: