Tell me the infraction that brought about your worse arse whipping from your dad*

[TerryMiller]

Dad never whipped me. In spite of some of his other faults, he was a provider. He drove a truck most of his life during the day, farmed part time in the evenings and weekends (with my sister's and my help), and ran the projectors at the theater at night.

Mom did the whipping, and she used a fly swatter with wire handles.

Got many a one from her.

 

[swampratt]

Hated my dad for the most part.
I was never told what I did. I just got pulverized when he got home.
His best moves were to grab me by my throat with both hands squeezing and picking me up off the floor until i passed out.
Then when I came to he would be standing over me and I would of course start crying and he would be yelling Shut UP !!!
Then he would begin kicking me in the head with his pointy toe cowboy boots.
I learned if I held my breath and balled up in the fetal position i could stop the crying and he would eventually quit kicking me.

He took me to school one day all bloody from head to my waist as my t shirt was covered and told them to put me in class.
All the school said was yes sir Mr. Swisher. Those boots to the head bring a lot of blood.

I found out my older sister was calling my mother and telling her I was beating on her.
Caught my sister on the phone saying it and asked her why she would do that.
She said it is funny when dad gets home and beats your () curse word here.

I never touched my sisters.

I was choked out often. Mother and others would leave me laying there for dead and go on eating or whatever.

If all I got was a belt I would be thankful.
Disowned my family

 

[Glock 40]

@swampratt terrible stuff you had to endure man. The fact you didn't turn out like him says a lot about your character. Heartbreaking to hear of anyone going through that type of thing.

 

[Okieron]

I got more than my share growing up.
The one whipping i didn't get was likely the most memorable.
Got caught by the high school principal drinking beer in the school parking lot monday morning, tucked down in my seat with a baby miller, he tapped on my truck window and said to me to come with me.
My dad was a cop and he knew it, asked me if dad was working or home, said he worked the 3-11pm shift, he was home.
He called him and told dad what happened, dad hung up on him as he didnt believe him, called him back and assured him he caught me himself. Knowing that he couldnt remotely punish me near as bad as dad could he sent me to class!
On the way home from tech class after school i got pulled over, yep it was dad!
All he said was if what the principal said was true and i said yes sir,,he walked back to the patrol car without saying a word and i went on my way.
That night i knew my ass was going to bleed, he got home about 11:30pm, heard him drive in, walk down the hallway, hang his gun belt, chit chat with mom, laying there waiting for him to come to my room.
I think it was 2am before i went to sleep.
It was 12yrs before we spoke of that day!

That was Way worse than any whooping he could of gave me, hell i would of went out and got in trouble the next weekend if whooped my ass
I was 17yr at the time, 58yr now and clean nose all these years.
Miss the old fart

 

[swampratt]

Thanks blake71.
I know I am better than they are or were for the dead ones.
I always stuck up for the little guy even in school and I was a little guy. 4' 11" in 9th grade.
Got picked on a lot because I was little but NO ONE could hit me like my dad and I could take a punch.
You just be ready for a wild bobcat to be all over you if ya hit me.

I thought many times of burning them to the ground but felt it was wrong.
My thought processes worked different than the fools I had to grow up with.

 

[cal7.62x39]

Mine isn't as bad as swamprats by any stretch of the imagination, but one summer when my mom made me go to his house for my 2 week jail sentence every year was particularly bad. My step c*nt and her daughter's would intentionally mess with me and make crap up to get me in trouble with him when he got home for work. I was 6 maybe when he switched from belt to switch. I got beat everyday for 14 days straight, when I got home to my mom I was purple from my middle back to mid thigh. Worst part was I never understood why I was so good and so loved by my mother, and was such a bad child getting into trouble at my fathers until several years later. That summer also saw me getting kicked out of the car on the highway to walk 5 miles give or take back to their house because I stood up for myself, being locked in a car for over an hour with windows up in 100°+ temps while they went inside and ate dinner (dont recall what I did to upset my stepwhore that time), and a fractured wrist that went untreated because I was exaggerating how bad it hurt.

I have seen him one time in 20 years, that's because my wife begged me for her to meet him when we were dating. She appologized as we were leaving and said it was fine if we never went back. But now my kids are asking me more and more about him and are wanting to meet him. It's hard to explain why I can't allow that to happen, and I regret not just lying and telling them he is dead.

 

[Hangfire]

Don't remember any particular whipping my stepdad gave me as being any worse than the other but I do recall that they were fairly frequent and that he favored using a razor strop......constantly in trouble I was a long ways from being a angel growing up so I'm sure I deserved every one he gave me.

 

[dennishoddy]

My most memorable, but not the only whipping was when shooting my bow in the backyard at some hay bales. I was 12 or so at the time, shooting a 25 lb fiberglass recurve with cedar arrows.
Dad was busy waxing his two tone black over red 1956 Mercury in the driveway.
We had huge flocks of blackbirds fly over the house every evening on their way to roost so, I launched an arrow up into the air to see if I could hit one which didn't happen, but the wind caught that arrow and as dad stood back to admire his wax job, that arrow hit the roof of the Mercury dead center in the middle, leaving a big dent before bouncing to the ground.
I'm here to tell you a cedar arrow will leave some whelps on your arse.
Dad was a shift worker, so as kids we got a little noisy at times. The sound of that belt coming out of the loops still brings memories of whippings we deserved.

 

[kwaynem]

I really miss dad now

 

[John6185]

I never really had a Dad, had a stepdad who must have hated me because I was someone else's son. My little half-brother did something and the stepdad blamed me and took a horse quirt to me and beat me until I couldn't take it any longer and I said, "alright, I did it." My mother was there and I told her afterward I didn't do what I was accused of and she said, "I know it." Wire coat hangers, boards, belts, electric cords, switches and anything else that could be swung by the human arm were the tools of the trade for me. In later years I wanted to beat that stepdad but he was old and in California. Then he died... He deserved a beating. One stepbrother spent nearly 20 years behind bars because "mother was so proud of him regardless of what he did"-she encouraged bad behavior. And the other my mother stuck in an orphanage in Hugo and he was drafted and was killed in Vietnam. I don't like the psychologist's term "dysfunctional" but my family was screwed up from birth to the grave. When my mother died she refused to be embalmed, she said that they weren't going to get her money. She was buried in a cheap pine coffin and the jailbird half-brother got all her money and property....then he died.