The day the football coach beat the ** out of us

I was in eighth grade and I couldn't keep out of trouble. I ran my mouth and I had to go to the office three times. After the second time the coach told me that if I came in again I'd get whipped with a leather strop.

Well I tried to keep my mouth closed but some older boys started throwing paper wads around while the teacher was gone and I couldn't help myself. I threw them too.

The teacher had heard the commotion and caught all three of us red handed. As luck would have it the other guys had been to the office twice that day already also.

The coach looked at me and the other tow and he asked. "Who wants it first?" I volunteered because I wanted to get it over with.

I was told to grab the chair arms and bend over. WHAM! He hit my ** the first of ten times and that was the worst one. He kept hitting me with the strop until I almost passed out. I had problems standing up. The other two seeing this tried to get other punishment but the coach told them that since I had taken my whipping they would have to take theirs or be suspended for ten days. If they had taken the ten days that would have been a zero for the day for every day. They would have flunked the grade so they each had to take their beating like I did.

He hit them hard just like he did me. Ten straps across their ** just like I had had to take.

Our faces were red and tears were comming out of our eyes. I was exactly crying but the ears did come out involutarily.

Then we went back to class to the laughter and jeers of our fellow classmates.

I behaved from then on. My ** was every other color of the rainbow for about five weeks. Then it only started to get better.

My grades actually improved and I was considered somewhat of a hero for volunteering to get whipped first. The other teachers found out and every once in awhile when some crybaby tried to get out of his whipping they told the guy about me.

About two months later I re examined my ** and at first could't see anything wrong but looking hard there was still a slight yellowish tinge where I had been hit. It actually took three moths for all traces of the whipping to disappear.

I graduated school and ten years later I re met the coach in a grocery store. He complimented me for taking my whipping like a man. He said far bigger and tougher boys had failed to take it as well as I did.

I'll never forget that incident as long as I live and till the day I die I'll always have mixed emotions about it.

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  • You're so fortunate to have had a coach that cared enough to give you the whipping you deserved, and credit to you for taking your whipping like a man, even though you were only a boy.

    Back in the 1980's, between age 8 and 13, I went to live with my grandparents on their farm. I was a naughty, smart-alecky boy, and always got away with it because people - including my mom- saw a cute blond kid with a grin on my face most of the time. My grandparents, being fundamental Christians, weren't fooled, despite my cuteness. They believed in old-fashioned discipline for naughty boys.

    I'll never forget my first week living with them. I was assigned chores to do each morning before school. The first two mornings I grudgingly did my chores. The third morning when my grandma woke me up, I announced, with a snide attitude, I wasn't going to do chores that day. After a second direct command from grandpa, I yelled NO! at him. He ordered me, rather sternly, to get dressed immediately and meet him outside for a "little chat".

    When I stepped outside, he led me to the woodshed without saying a word. Stepping inside, he ordered me to pull down my pants and underpants, and then bend over the chair and hold still. Then the punishment: a whipping with the leather ** my bare buttocks. I'd never experienced even a spanking, and the sting of the whipping was nothing I'd experienced before. Twelve hard licks in all.

    Deep down I knew I needed the punishment, and my grandpa knew it was his duty to punish me severely. When it was over, both my grandparents gave me a big hug, and I tearfully apologized to both of them, then went on to do my chores.

    During my boyhood years living with my grandparents, I received many more well deserved bare bottom whippings, and I just thank God my grandparents were there to instill discipline when I needed it.

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