South African Paddling

Author: 

In my first year (1975) at a Christian university in South Africa, I lived in a men’s dorm on campus. Rules for first years were very strict : No drinking or smoking in the rooms, and no leaving the dorm after 10 at  night. Breaking any of the many rules got you a ‘red card’. Three red cards got you a disciplinary hearing and some sort of punishment, usually suspension from sports teams or campus community service (washing the windows of the cafeteria etc.) Three of these hearings were all you got though. Another slip-up, and you were gone; expelled from varsity and added to a nationwide ‘black list’, effectively keeping you out of other universities for a year.

During the first semester I got into quite a lot of trouble, mostly fights on the rugby field, and by the start of the second semester, I had three hearings and a lot of community service on my record. It was still winter, and in a rugby match in Pretoria, my temper got the better of me and I hit a guy in front of about 4000 spectators. Somehow a photographer got a great shot of my punch, and it got in the sports page of a nationwide newspaper. The article was about violence in sports, and my university’s name was mentioned.

That Monday, back in the dorm, I got called in to the dorm-principal’s office. He had a copy of the newspaper on his desk, and I could tell that he was furious. He gave me a long speech, and I remember wondering at the time why he didn’t simply expell me - he had the authority, and I could tell that he was really mad. I was worried sick, because I knew that my parents would not pay for my studies anymore, and I would have to look for a job on my own. This terrified me, but I knew that there was no chance of getting out of this. But then his speech started to take a different note. He hinted at my rather good academic record, my good rugby skills, and how he had personally made sure that I only got community service in the past instead of being expelled from the team. He then took out the form for expulsion, and handed it to me to sign. When he handed me the pen though, he pulled back his hand and asked : “Are you sure you want to do this ?,” and glanced sideways to a glass display case showing all the dorm’s trophies and certificates of merit for the past ten or so years. I said that I don’t understand, and he said : “Some other punishment might be appropriate,” and looked at the case again. I followed his gaze and saw a 24-inch paddle with holes in it, hanging at the very back, under a humorous plaque with the words ‘Board of Education’ on it. Now it should be said that I was no stranger to the paddle, as it was (and still is) used often in schools and especially boys’ hostels. But  I had never heard of it being used at university; surely we were too old for a spanking ? Nevertheless, I could not believe my luck. Just as in school, I would get away with only a red ass. And, as I was older, I was sure that I would be able to handle, or even shrug off a paddling. Relieved, I agreed. After some discussion, we decided on 12 swats. He told me to come back the next day, as he had an appointment in a few minutes.

That night, however, I became convinced that the paddling would be more painfull, especially after thinking about it’s size, and the holes in it. I decided to try my luck, and wear two pairs of underwear under my jean. The next morning though, I decided that three would surely be better. After making sure that you couldn’t see the extra padding, I set of to his office.

Once in the office, he wasted no time. He pulled out a chair, and told me to bend over the back with my hands on the seat. “If your hands leave that seat, I will stop, and you will be expelled with no further negotiations,” he told me. I bent over, and he gave me the first swat. It really wasn’t hard, and I was getting more and more relieved at this seemingly light punishment. But then he told me to get up, and I could hear that he was mad. “How many pairs of underwear are you wearing ?” he asked. I panicked, and lied “One”, I said. “Get out,” he said, “Call your parents to come and fetch you, you can sign the form with them.”

I started to apologize, almost begging him to give me another chance. He stopped me in mid-sentence, and asked me again how many pairs of underwear I was wearing. I told him, and he looked at me very ernestly. “OK,” he said. “You can stay if you take the underwear off, and take your original 12 swats for each pair, on your naked ass, because you lied to me.” That brought the total to 36, on my bare ass, something that I had only experienced twice before. But I was desperate, so I agreed. I took off my jeans and underwear, and bent over the chair again. “Same rules apply; if your hands leave the chair, you’re out.” He said as he moved behind me.

When the first one fell, I knew that it was going to be bad. He had hit me with a lot more force that previously. After six, I was sweating and shaking, but holding on to that chair for dear life. He paused then, and just as I was getting restless, the seventh fell, with even more force. I took all 36 swats in groups of 6, and by the end of it, tears were flowing from my eyes. He told me to get up, get dressed and leave his office. My ass was purple for about two weeks, but I finished my degree with no further incident. I did, however learn that almost no-one ever got expelled from my dorm, and I think I know why. Later in life, when I started to enjoy S&M, I always thought back on that paddling fondly, even though I really hated it at the time.