Burning a Butt

[OTKLogan]

Burning a Butt

You know, you get to a point in your life when you decide to chronicle some of your experiences. In my case, my spanking experience.
There have been hundreds over the last 40 or so years. So here’s the first one in what could be a series of a whole lot of them spanning a lifetime.
I started when I was six years old. My little girlfriend, Karen and I were playing “Romeo and Juliet”. I don’t think either of us knew who Romeo or Juliet were but we were having fun. That is, until Juliet misbehaved.
To this day, I have no idea what she did but I do know that I put her over my knee and spanked her. She was wearing red shorts. I peppered her cheeks with purposeful smacks that had her little legs kicking back and forth.
Time stood still.
I have no idea how long I was smacking those little cheeks but I do remember hearing the back door opening. There she was, Karen’s mom, Miss Jenny.
Karen pleaded with her mother: “Mommy, he’s spanking me. Help.” To my relief, her mother broke out into a smile that exploded into a cackle followed by applause.
She said through her chuckle: “Good for him. Give her a good one, Logan.” And with that permission, I finished my task and left Karen jumping up and down holding her tiny bottom.
That, folks, was the start.
From that day on I can honestly say that I spanked ever girl in my neighborhood until I left at the age of 19. And I’ve spanked a woman every year of my life since. At least 3 a year. Some years the toll reached in the 20’s. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
One of the most interesting spankings was one I had nothing to do with.
From the age of 13 to 23 I was a rock musician. I played nightclubs till 2 in the morning and then showered, napped, then woke up and served mass at the convent at 5:30. It was a great time in my life.
This particular event happened when I was 19. I was still living with my parents. A row home as we called them. On our right was the Flowers family. Six girls. Ranging in age, at that time, from 6 to 16. Jim Flowers was a steel worker and a strong disciplinarian. There were many nights I could hear the hard slaps and whacks of a paddle against bare female bottoms. Cries, screeches and pleading could be heard as if they were in the room. He ran a strict house. Looking back now there were times I wondered if Mrs. Flowers was actually the one of the receiving end. A question my mother brought up one night after a few beers. The walls were that thin.
On this particular night, I was coming home from a gig at the club where my group was the house band. It was about 2:20 a.m. It was a Friday.
When I walked up to my house I could see the Flowers’ porch light on. The front door was opened and Laura, the oldest of the girls was standing near the steps.
“Hey, Laura, you’re out a little late tonight.” I said when I saw her.
She didn’t say anything. From her eyes I could tell why. She’d been crying.
“Is everything ok? The girls are ok aren’t they? Your parents?” I was concerned.
Laura nodded her head.
“Is everything ok with Paul?” Paul Transperenti was her boyfriend and they had been dating for about a year.
“Y—y-y-eah.” She stammered.
I continued my probing. “What’s up?”
We had been friends since she moved next door about 12 years before. Yes, I spanked her when we were in our early teens. She confided in me then that her father spanked all the girls. Bare bottom. Over his knee. With his hand and a paddle that hung behind the cellar door. I’d seen it myself a few times.
“I missed curfew tonight.” She sniffled.
“Damn.” I knew what that meant and it wasn’t a good thing. “I’m sorry to hear that. Was your dad home?”
She nodded.
Wow. Not good.
Jim Flowers had a younger sister who went to a party when she was a teen-ager and was in a car driven by an older boy who got drunk and was driving her home when he missed a curve and hit a tree. Jim’s sister was killed instantly. The reason the boy was driving fast was she was late for her curfew. Since that night, Jim vowed that his daughters would always make curfew. Or face the consequences.
“How bad was it?”
She shook her head.
“That bad?”
Laura was wearing a short skirt, the fashion at that time. She lifted it and showed me a bottom that was glowing red from the top of her hips to the back of her thighs. I could see large handprints covering her cheeks.
She looked back at her front door anticipating someone.
“Holy hell. He tore you up.” My observation incited more tears as she straightened out her skirt.
I saw a large shadow breakthrough the front door and spill onto the porch.
“Laura, get in her.” The booming voice reverberated into the night. It was Jim Flowers. In his hand was “the paddle”.
As he opened the screen door, he noticed me standing there. He smiled. “Hey Logan, what’s up, brother? How was the gig tonight? Lots of those groupies?”
Jim always fancied himself a musician and a hip guy. Well, as hip as a steel worker can be at 6’4” 260lbs with a Marine buzz cut in 1968.
“Hey, Mister Flowers, good to see you. Yeah, there were a few but we go on tour tomorrow for about a month and I need to get to bed.” I reached over and shook his huge hand.
“You guys are up late tonight.”I was trying to make small talk so he might forget the reason he was up so late.
“Well, I had to take care a few things tonight. It seems there’s a girl in this house who hasn’t grasp the idea of telling time. So I’m giving a refresher course.” He actually snorted a laugh as he tapped his daughter on the shoulder. “Ok, let’s get this over with. I have to get up in a few hours.”
As he led her into the living room, he stopped and said: “Oh, hey, Logan, can you hang for a second, I have a question. This won’t take long.”
“No problem.” I had no idea what he wanted to discuss. I lit up a Marlboro and leaned against the railing.

I looked into the living room and couldn’t believe my eyes. He put his size 12 boot onto an ottoman and lifted Laura over his knee. She was about 5’ and weighed approximately 110lbs. But she had a bottom that earned her the nickname in the neighborhood of “bubble butt”.
In one fast second, I saw why. Jim Flowers flipped up her short skirt and yanked down her flower printed panties. He gripped her tightly and paddled her so fast and so hard, his arm actually became a blur.
Her legs scissored and bicycled. Arms flailing as if she was swimming in air. The entire session couldn’t have lasted more than 30 seconds but when he was finished her cheeks were crimson with tight, white-hot circles burning into her bottom.
He let her down and she fell to her knees sobbing.
“Get to bed. If you’re ever that late again, you’ll get the switch.”
Laura didn’t need to be told twice. She scurried up the stairs with one hand clutching her left cheek and the other hand holding her panties at her thighs.
Jim came out to the porch and put his fingers to his lips in the universal motion of “gotta a cigarette?”
I gave him a Marlboro red and a pack of matches with the club’s log on it.
“Thanks, man. I don’t know what to do with these girls. She is so smart in school. But when it comes to getting home on time she just doesn’t get it. I really hate do that. I do. But it’s the only way she’s going to learn. Remember when I caught her smoking?”
His question flipped my memory switch and brought me back to about 4 years ago when Laura, myself, and a two of her friends were hanging out at a 7-11. The girls had just discovered cigarettes and were showing off in front of me as I stopped by before going to the club. I was an older guy with long hair. They were three Catholic girls who wanted to rebel.
I went in and got a Slurpee and stopped to chat. No one saw the Rambler pull into the lot.
Jim Flowers.
Laura had her back to him as she blew a granite grey plume of smoke over her shoulder right into her father’s face.
“What the hell are you doing?” he said as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand with the cigarette up to his face to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating.
“Wait. Dad. No. I can explain. It’s…it’s….it’s Logan’s. I was just….”
She didn’t get out the rest of the sentence. Jim Flowers sat on the hood of his car and pulled Laura over his knee. She was wearing tight white bell-bottoms that hugged her tight cury bottom. He began to spank her in rapid succession. She kicked and struggled but he kept the velocity at Mach 1.
“How many times have we talked about this?” he said without missing a smack. “These things are addictive and will kill you.” The spanking continued as her friends watched spellbound.
“I won’t smoke any more. I won’t. I won’t. I promise. Daddy. Please. I won’t smoke.” Laura broke down in tears and blubbered more apologies as Jim blistered her bottom.


“Yeah? Well, good. But this is for trying to blame Logan.” And with that he grabbed the top of her slacks and yanked up. Her bottom bubbled against the fabric. I swear I could see the redness of her cheeks through the cloth.
The slaps he administered rang out through the neighborhood. To make matters worse, two cars of young kids pulled up to witness the most embarrassing moment of Laura Flowers life.
They giggled and pointed as they walked into the convenience store. “Give it to her.” Whistles. “Wow. She’s getting a good one.” “Ow. I felt that one.” The gale of laughter drifted into the store as they looked over their shoulders.
Jim finally stopped and let Laura up. Her hands flew to the five-alarm fire that was in her bottom and sobbed openly. Jim went into the store as if nothing happened.
Laura’s girlfriends commiserated with her as she boo-hooed loudly and half-squated to alleviate the pain.
I just stood in amazement hoping none of the girls could see raging hard-on in my bell-bottoms.
Jim emerged from the store, ironically with a pack of cigarettes and a carton of milk.
“Laura Rose, get into the car. And the two of you, Becky and Iris, your dads are going to get a call from me when I get home. So don’t think you’re going to get away with anything.”
“But Mister….” Becky attempted.
The car pulled out. I was pulled back to the moment.
“Yeah, I remember that afternoon like it was yesterday.”
“Well, you know and I know she hasn’t had a cigarette since.” Jim said proudly as he inhaled.
I said: “You’re are one hundred per cent right on that one. No cigarettes for Laura.”
But what I couldn’t bring myself to tell him is the week before, I turned Laura onto the wonders of pot and we got high three times since that night.
Eventually, he found out. But that’s another story.
By the way, these are one hundred per cent true stories.
I hope you enjoy them.

[babygirl]

It was good to see this posting Logan...i have missed reading your stories a lot. They always make me feel like im the fortunate or UNfortunate lady you are taking care of Hope to read more soon.