I guess that particular Monday morning, as a first-grader, I must have unconsciously told myself today, I’m gonna be nothing but bad. First I took one of my sister’s record albums with me on the bus, without asking her permission. But what really amounted to the worst spanking of my life was when I followed through on a request from the bully in my class, who seemed to thrive on nothing except bringing misery in my life. I only found out the detail of it being his request/command from fellow classmates much later on. For years up to then, I merely assumed this as the product of my own evil imagination.
The little scum told me to draw pictures of naked people. I did just that, in red Crayola, drawings of adult nudes with actual sex organs (their genitals all had no pubic hair, my mind bereft of this detail through never having showered or bathed with my parents). One picture had a guy taking a piss into a pile of excrement. Someone in the class ratted on me, and the teacher (a real hag whom I’ll detail more in a future post) lowered the boom, condemning my behavior, and showing a few of the pictures to the class to humiliate me before she gave me a sound whipping. I cried my eyes out, was given the standard penalty of no outdoor recess, and was blubbering most of the rest of the day, knowing full well the old battle axe was dispatching my older sister to tell our parents my crime.
Designated snitch Sis promptly told Mom, who was home by herself and who took me in my room and severely scolded me, bursting into tears during her speech and implying that I was not her son. I then got a second spanking from her. Still more crying from me. But the worst was still to come.
Dad. He flamed my fanny good. Always with the belt. And giving me a yelling-at to end ‘em all. He gave me maximum penalty—going to bed early without dinner. So I was left there with the lights all out, bawling myself to sleep.
No kind of lesson was learned from this whole experience…apart from the human body being something filthy and raunchy and something to always be hid.,..and getting the beating of your life.
I’ve come a long ways since then, both in my near-lifelong sexual education in my adult years, and in my artwork with my total lack of inhibition in showing the human sexual anatomy as a source of pride for anyone; and its providing one of the major turn-ons in my life and my reason for my existence as a sexual being, as well as my simple joys of discovering what others have had to offer in my sporadic relationships.
Actually, this really is not my absolute worst paddling….that’s a hoary story that I may or may not describe sometime in the future…..