Showing posts with label Frat. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Frat. Show all posts
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Thug Porn Hazing
As much as I would love to think these videos were about pledges getting those chocolate butts paddled it's basically your typical porno but the shots of them holding those paddles might make it a little more enjoyable for me!
Sunday, January 1, 2012
The Wood....All Good!
Well if your gonna pledge a college fraternity this year and your looking to get that booty blistered make sure you pick one that has plenty of paddles like Omega Psi Phi! I think that is the best frat logo ever!!! Now I'm not a fan of that over the top hazing that goes on these days but I think a paddle to your bare backside is acceptable! I have a feeling that the pledges will spend there first semester standing up in class and sleeping on their stomachs! Hmmmm....but that might be another story!
Monday, July 4, 2011
Pledges
Every year I look forward to see a fresh new batch of frat pledges go through a 24 hour initiation. It's a embarrassing and humiliating sadistic ritual that will earn them the right to be in our fraternity! I truely hated going through it myself years ago but now I get to watch and enjoy those pledges getting their naked butts paddled over and over again in front of their soon to be frat brothers! I just wish I could do this for the rest of my life!
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Black Betty
By Wynnchester
“I’m going to enjoy this,” Swan said with a smirk. “I don’t know why you put yourself through all this. You never win.” Brother Swan was right. Every time we make a bet I’m always on the short end of the stick, literally. We’re frat guys so we always bet licks, or wood as we say. Sports, cards you name it, we bet. I bet a lot to get better at betting, or so I thought. Swan always bets me because I’m no good at it and he likes swatting my wide, plump rump. “You know the drill, Brother Drew,” Swan said while grinning. “I almost feel sorry for you. What’s this, seven, eight bets in a row? Cuz, I didn't think you had any skin left on dat azz.” I was lucky there was some. Swan knows how to swing wood. He’s made my toes curl on a couple of occasions. The last time he brought smoke! I almost lost it. He hasn’t made me cry yet, however. I was determined this wouldn't be the day, either. The frat house was empty except for us. 
We knew everyone’s schedule so we had a couple of hours before some of the brothers were out of class. We nearly had this down to a science. It’s not like we were trying to hide anything. All the brothers do it as well. We just don’t like having an audience. Our brother’s also like to be hands on. If some wood is being swung, everyone wants a piece of the action. “So, you want me in the usual position,” I asked sheepishly. “Yeeessir,” he said quickly. My room’s at the back of the frat house. I lucked out because even if someone came in, you wouldn't hear anything with the door closed. It’s an old house so the doors are thick as well as the insulation. It’s a large room, big enough to have an arm chair. That’s where Brother Swan wanted me – in that chair. I placed a couple of pillows in the seat cushion. This would raise my butt up nice and high, so Swan could make contact with both cheeks. “Get to gettin’,” he said, anxious for me to receive my punishment. “Don’t rush,” I snapped. “You ain’t the one about to get splinters.” He couldn't hide his amusement. “That’s what you get for losing,” Swan said. “You know you can’t beat me at nuthin’, Cuz. “Really? Seriously, really,” I asked. “I can take more wood than you any day,” I said, nearly yelling. “Sure you can, Cuz,” he said slyly. “Thing is, I never lose so get to gettin’,” this time with his hand on my shoulder trying to force me over in the chair. “And this time you gon’ cry.” “Hold, up, ho-ho-hold up, bruh,” I said. “Tell ya, what,” I said. “I got 20 coming. If you cain’t get me to cry by 20, you take 20. If I cry, you stop at the lick I start crying on and I’ll take 20 more from there.” Swan was interested.
He knew I’d never cried before but the last time I came close, real close. He’s thinking he could get me up to about 17 or 18, really lay one on me and then have 20 more shots. “OK, Cuz, you got it,” Swan said. I took my position, which was pants and drawers around my ankles, knees up on the cushion (one in front of each arm), hands griping the back of the chair and behind lifted up by the pillows. “I’m bout to serve a course of rump roast,” Swan said as he pulled the paddle back like a major league batter. The first swat landed with a booooom! “Yeeeeeeouch,” I screamed. “Whatcha screaming for,” Swan said barely winded. “That was a pop fly. I ain’t got to the home runs yet, Cuz.” Swan killed me with that, “Cuz” stuff. He was also killing me with Black Betty, the board we usually used on pledges. She was old, but hurt like a mutha. It was about three and a half feet long, an inch thick and four inches wide at the business end. There were holes, of course, but countersunk. It was piano black and lacquered. Not a color of our frat, just use black for the drama. Baaammm! Baaammm! Wham! Swan had found his rhythm quickly. He was hitting base hits, doubles and triples on my ass. He was pounding me like Hammering Hank all the while I’m screaming and writhing on the chair in almost unbearable pain. But I made up my mind. I was winning this bet if it meant not sitting for a week. “What’s. . Whop . . The . . Whop . . . matter . . .smack. . Cuz,” Swan said, this time almost breathless. “You ain’t had a beatin’ like this before bro. I’m bringing smoke and got plenty more before the fire starts,” he said in an almost maniacal voice. “I’m loving this dog. . bam. . .bam. . .baaammmm! “Ouch. Oooooo. Ouch, Swan, you killin’ me,” I yelled. My rump felt like is was glowing. That would be a sight. I’m a deep chocolate, but Swan has put some color in dat azz on several occasions. “Whoa, dog, woooooooo.” I hollered. “You trying to get you mama to hear you back in Texas. She cain’t help you Cuz, can she” he asked between licks. “I ain't yo mama but I’m yo daddy, ain’t I, AIN”T I,” Swan yelled. He was enjoying this for sure. So much so, he had lost count. But I hadn't. “That’s 17, ouch. . . .18 . . .ahhhhhyeeohhh . . .19. . . woooooweeeeooh. . .20!!!!!!” I looked back at Swan and he looked puzzled. “Naw, dawg, that cain’t be 20, I just got started,” he said hurriedly. “Naw, Cuz, it’s my turn, dawg,” I said triumphantly. “Wait, now,” Swan said trying to back up. “You know I was just playing, just playing, Cuz. Swan was nervous. I could hear it in his voice. He’d not lost a bet to me in a long, long time. But he wasn’t getting out of this. That latte-colored, arrogant butt was about to get changed to a deep, crimson red. “Naw, Cuz,” putting much emphasis on “Cuz” this time “You lost, get to gettin’. “Aiiiiite, aiiiite,” Swan said as he fumbled with his belt. “Gimme some room, bruh,” he huffed. “I’m gon’ do dis. I pay my debts.” He walks over to the chair and assumes the position I just left. “Like this,” he asked nervously. “Yep,” I said. “That’s perfect. Face the wall and don’t look back. “And now stepping to the plate, recently out of retirement, Mr. Barry Bonds,” I said with a chuckle. “Not Bonds, dawg, awwh come on son” Swan pleaded. I was deaf to that. My sole, singular mission was to hit as many home runs as possible. “Swing batter, batter swing,” I said as I drew the bat behind my head. My follow through was perfect. I hit Swan square in the biscuits. “Kaaaapooow.” My first lick was a grand slam. “Yeeeeeeeeeeooooooooooooooch,” Swan screamed. He was on his feet holding his aching ass. “Man, that ain’t fair. I didn’t hit you that hard, Cuz.” he said. “Oh, you hit me a lot harder than that, bruh. It just hurts worse when you lose. Get back in da cut.” He did so quickly and I continued my rear assault. I put more muscle in the second swing than the first. Ooooohhhh mmmyyyy dddaaaammmmnn,” Swan yelled. He was clutching that arm chair like it was his last brew. The next three were singles and doubles. I felt a little sorry for him because he was begging and pleading so. The next lick was a game winning grand slam that sounded like dynamite. “Ahhhhhhhhhhhh, Cuz, please,” Swan begged. I had him and I wasn’t letting up this time. “Really, Cuz,” I said a little winded. “We ‘bout to play ‘question and answer,’ son. What’s my name . . .bam. . . .huh. . . .bam, bam, what is it,” I screamed? “It’s Drew, Brother Drew, ooowww, come on bruh,” he said moaning and groaning. “Spell, it Swan, spell it,” I ordered. “Whack. . .D. . .whack. . .R. . .whack, whack. . .E, W, come on man, plee. . eee. . .eee. . ase,” Swan said. I finished his beating with grand slams. His face was buried in the seat cushion. His screams were muffled but still loud. “Last one, Cuz. Get that rump up, make it stand at attention,” I said. He raised his battered bubble butt a little and was perfectly still, as if to say “do your worst.” So I took the challenge. I got in my Ken Griffey stance wiggled the paddle and let fly. I didn’t use the same board Swan did. My personal paddle had our frat’s letters carved in the wood. I did my best Griffey imitation and landed the lick with crushing force. “Wooooooooooiiiiiiieeeeeeeyeeeeoooouch,” 
Swan screamed jumping about three feet in the air holding his red rump. I hit him hard enough to tattoo the letters on his cheeks. They were almost hard to see. He was glowing red on both sides – almost perfect circles. “You wait ‘till the next one, Cuz,” he said gingerly raising his pants over his tail. “Oh, we gon’ bet on something again,” I asked. “I ain’t goin’ out like this Drew,” Swan said. “Bruh, now it’s on!”
We knew everyone’s schedule so we had a couple of hours before some of the brothers were out of class. We nearly had this down to a science. It’s not like we were trying to hide anything. All the brothers do it as well. We just don’t like having an audience. Our brother’s also like to be hands on. If some wood is being swung, everyone wants a piece of the action. “So, you want me in the usual position,” I asked sheepishly. “Yeeessir,” he said quickly. My room’s at the back of the frat house. I lucked out because even if someone came in, you wouldn't hear anything with the door closed. It’s an old house so the doors are thick as well as the insulation. It’s a large room, big enough to have an arm chair. That’s where Brother Swan wanted me – in that chair. I placed a couple of pillows in the seat cushion. This would raise my butt up nice and high, so Swan could make contact with both cheeks. “Get to gettin’,” he said, anxious for me to receive my punishment. “Don’t rush,” I snapped. “You ain’t the one about to get splinters.” He couldn't hide his amusement. “That’s what you get for losing,” Swan said. “You know you can’t beat me at nuthin’, Cuz. “Really? Seriously, really,” I asked. “I can take more wood than you any day,” I said, nearly yelling. “Sure you can, Cuz,” he said slyly. “Thing is, I never lose so get to gettin’,” this time with his hand on my shoulder trying to force me over in the chair. “And this time you gon’ cry.” “Hold, up, ho-ho-hold up, bruh,” I said. “Tell ya, what,” I said. “I got 20 coming. If you cain’t get me to cry by 20, you take 20. If I cry, you stop at the lick I start crying on and I’ll take 20 more from there.” Swan was interested. He knew I’d never cried before but the last time I came close, real close. He’s thinking he could get me up to about 17 or 18, really lay one on me and then have 20 more shots. “OK, Cuz, you got it,” Swan said. I took my position, which was pants and drawers around my ankles, knees up on the cushion (one in front of each arm), hands griping the back of the chair and behind lifted up by the pillows. “I’m bout to serve a course of rump roast,” Swan said as he pulled the paddle back like a major league batter. The first swat landed with a booooom! “Yeeeeeeouch,” I screamed. “Whatcha screaming for,” Swan said barely winded. “That was a pop fly. I ain’t got to the home runs yet, Cuz.” Swan killed me with that, “Cuz” stuff. He was also killing me with Black Betty, the board we usually used on pledges. She was old, but hurt like a mutha. It was about three and a half feet long, an inch thick and four inches wide at the business end. There were holes, of course, but countersunk. It was piano black and lacquered. Not a color of our frat, just use black for the drama. Baaammm! Baaammm! Wham! Swan had found his rhythm quickly. He was hitting base hits, doubles and triples on my ass. He was pounding me like Hammering Hank all the while I’m screaming and writhing on the chair in almost unbearable pain. But I made up my mind. I was winning this bet if it meant not sitting for a week. “What’s. . Whop . . The . . Whop . . . matter . . .smack. . Cuz,” Swan said, this time almost breathless. “You ain’t had a beatin’ like this before bro. I’m bringing smoke and got plenty more before the fire starts,” he said in an almost maniacal voice. “I’m loving this dog. . bam. . .bam. . .baaammmm! “Ouch. Oooooo. Ouch, Swan, you killin’ me,” I yelled. My rump felt like is was glowing. That would be a sight. I’m a deep chocolate, but Swan has put some color in dat azz on several occasions. “Whoa, dog, woooooooo.” I hollered. “You trying to get you mama to hear you back in Texas. She cain’t help you Cuz, can she” he asked between licks. “I ain't yo mama but I’m yo daddy, ain’t I, AIN”T I,” Swan yelled. He was enjoying this for sure. So much so, he had lost count. But I hadn't. “That’s 17, ouch. . . .18 . . .ahhhhhyeeohhh . . .19. . . woooooweeeeooh. . .20!!!!!!” I looked back at Swan and he looked puzzled. “Naw, dawg, that cain’t be 20, I just got started,” he said hurriedly. “Naw, Cuz, it’s my turn, dawg,” I said triumphantly. “Wait, now,” Swan said trying to back up. “You know I was just playing, just playing, Cuz. Swan was nervous. I could hear it in his voice. He’d not lost a bet to me in a long, long time. But he wasn’t getting out of this. That latte-colored, arrogant butt was about to get changed to a deep, crimson red. “Naw, Cuz,” putting much emphasis on “Cuz” this time “You lost, get to gettin’. “Aiiiiite, aiiiite,” Swan said as he fumbled with his belt. “Gimme some room, bruh,” he huffed. “I’m gon’ do dis. I pay my debts.” He walks over to the chair and assumes the position I just left. “Like this,” he asked nervously. “Yep,” I said. “That’s perfect. Face the wall and don’t look back. “And now stepping to the plate, recently out of retirement, Mr. Barry Bonds,” I said with a chuckle. “Not Bonds, dawg, awwh come on son” Swan pleaded. I was deaf to that. My sole, singular mission was to hit as many home runs as possible. “Swing batter, batter swing,” I said as I drew the bat behind my head. My follow through was perfect. I hit Swan square in the biscuits. “Kaaaapooow.” My first lick was a grand slam. “Yeeeeeeeeeeooooooooooooooch,” Swan screamed. He was on his feet holding his aching ass. “Man, that ain’t fair. I didn’t hit you that hard, Cuz.” he said. “Oh, you hit me a lot harder than that, bruh. It just hurts worse when you lose. Get back in da cut.” He did so quickly and I continued my rear assault. I put more muscle in the second swing than the first. Ooooohhhh mmmyyyy dddaaaammmmnn,” Swan yelled. He was clutching that arm chair like it was his last brew. The next three were singles and doubles. I felt a little sorry for him because he was begging and pleading so. The next lick was a game winning grand slam that sounded like dynamite. “Ahhhhhhhhhhhh, Cuz, please,” Swan begged. I had him and I wasn’t letting up this time. “Really, Cuz,” I said a little winded. “We ‘bout to play ‘question and answer,’ son. What’s my name . . .bam. . . .huh. . . .bam, bam, what is it,” I screamed? “It’s Drew, Brother Drew, ooowww, come on bruh,” he said moaning and groaning. “Spell, it Swan, spell it,” I ordered. “Whack. . .D. . .whack. . .R. . .whack, whack. . .E, W, come on man, plee. . eee. . .eee. . ase,” Swan said. I finished his beating with grand slams. His face was buried in the seat cushion. His screams were muffled but still loud. “Last one, Cuz. Get that rump up, make it stand at attention,” I said. He raised his battered bubble butt a little and was perfectly still, as if to say “do your worst.” So I took the challenge. I got in my Ken Griffey stance wiggled the paddle and let fly. I didn’t use the same board Swan did. My personal paddle had our frat’s letters carved in the wood. I did my best Griffey imitation and landed the lick with crushing force. “Wooooooooooiiiiiiieeeeeeeyeeeeoooouch,” Swan screamed jumping about three feet in the air holding his red rump. I hit him hard enough to tattoo the letters on his cheeks. They were almost hard to see. He was glowing red on both sides – almost perfect circles. “You wait ‘till the next one, Cuz,” he said gingerly raising his pants over his tail. “Oh, we gon’ bet on something again,” I asked. “I ain’t goin’ out like this Drew,” Swan said. “Bruh, now it’s on!” Saturday, December 18, 2010
A Man With A Padddle
He has that look in his face that says, "this is gonna hurt you alot more than it will me!"
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Pledge Week
The last test for the new pledges is to be stripped naked in front of all your frat brothers and recite the the frats creed in it's entirety with out messing up!
Ok Pledge.....that was your first ten licks of the paddle for not reciting the fraternity creed correctly....are you ready to try again?
Yes frat brother Johnson! 
I believe in my Fraternity.
I believe in the friendships formed
in the springtime of my youth.
in the springtime of my youth.
I......I believe in.....
You have up to five tries and by that time your ass is gonna be on fire! If you haven't recited it correctly by the fifth time it all starts again tomorrow! Do you wanna quit?
No Frat brother johnson!
Ok then......get ready!
WHACK! Thank you brother......May I have another!
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Ex-Judge Herman Thomas
In a surprise verdict, a jury acquitted former judge Herman Thomas of sexual abuse, attempted sodomy, and assault related to allegations that he brought inmates to his chambers for sex and spankings. The judge insisted that he brought the men to his office to “mentor” them, but prosecutors put forward evidence of semen on the carpet and testimony of numerous former inmates that they had sex with him or allowed him to spank them for lenient treatment.
During the Montgomery hearing, Thomas acknowledged being a member of Kappa Alpha Psi and said he owned 3 fraternity paddles.
During the Montgomery hearing, Thomas acknowledged being a member of Kappa Alpha Psi and said he owned 3 fraternity paddles. I know I'm a little bit behind the curve on this one but I thought I would finally chime in! He was found innocent on all charges but if you ask me where there is smoke there's fire! Something must have been going on back in his chambers. I do like the idea of giving inmates or anyone who is about to be sentenced to a choice of taking the paddle to reduce or eliminate the sentence or fine. I would make sure there are witnesses though like parents or court appointed people just to add to the humiliation! Doing it behind closed doors might lead to more abuse so the more witnesses the better!
I suggest that the father or another male family member administer the punishment...if not or he doesn't do a good enough job a "Special Spanker" will finish the paddling! I can almost see the line of thugs outside the courtroom waiting for their turn to reduce their sentence or fine! I'd make sure it was a paddling they wouldn't forget so they think twice the next time there about to do something stupid!
I suggest that the father or another male family member administer the punishment...if not or he doesn't do a good enough job a "Special Spanker" will finish the paddling! I can almost see the line of thugs outside the courtroom waiting for their turn to reduce their sentence or fine! I'd make sure it was a paddling they wouldn't forget so they think twice the next time there about to do something stupid!Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Kappa Cane
Kappa Cane
by Michael Artis
By know you know that I am dating BLUE THUNDER, a member of Phi Beta Sigma, Inc. Now they have alot of Frat in his family, including this one brotha named "Nooty" who lives out in L. A. Nooty was a "Blood" growing up in the streets of South Central Los Angeles and was a Straight Thug who turned his life around and is now in school. He joined a Frat and of course Red was in his heart... He became a KAPPA.
His nickname was the "Red Baron" to some and "The Hazer" to most. He loved to serve wood on anyone. Most people who want to pledge ask him to serve them wood a few times to see if they could handle the "Secret" pledge process. Most that Nooty serves NEVER
PLEDGE! 
by Michael Artis
By know you know that I am dating BLUE THUNDER, a member of Phi Beta Sigma, Inc. Now they have alot of Frat in his family, including this one brotha named "Nooty" who lives out in L. A. Nooty was a "Blood" growing up in the streets of South Central Los Angeles and was a Straight Thug who turned his life around and is now in school. He joined a Frat and of course Red was in his heart... He became a KAPPA.
His nickname was the "Red Baron" to some and "The Hazer" to most. He loved to serve wood on anyone. Most people who want to pledge ask him to serve them wood a few times to see if they could handle the "Secret" pledge process. Most that Nooty serves NEVER
PLEDGE! Nooty came down to visit the family and hang out. It was homecoming and there were Lines Crossing for most Fraternities. He went to just hang out, but did not touch anyone. Just tripped on the Southern way of doing things. So, he was hanging out with his cousin, My Boo. When I met Nooty, he looked so mean... I was very intimidated! But he seen the love his cousin had for me, so I became friends almost immediately with the 5'11", 165lbs ex-gangsta.
Nooty wanted to go to the Mall and Boo was in class... So I took Nooty in My Car. Of Course I was in Blue as per my Boo's orders. But Nooty seemed to have a problem with it.
He said "I am gonna get you a Red Shirt so you can look like a Real Man!"
I chuckled and he seemed to get offended. Red had a different meaning for Nooty than just KAPPA, It was the colors of his "set" back in South Central L. A. "What's wrong with Red?" he said. I Replied "It is a Bitch Color, Blue is the Bomb!" "Man, if we was back in da Hood, I would have shot your stupid ass for some shit like that... Disrespecting my colors." He was my opportunity to try and see if he would mess around... "I am Sorry Nooty, You want me to take wood or something to make it up to you?" (I was hoping he would...) But Nooty Just sat and pondered about it... "Where would I serve ya?" he asked? My heart was pounding.
"My place, but NO ONE Can Know, I do not
want anyone think I am a PUNK or anything!" He agreed and we turned the car toward my crib. He brought he duffle-bag with the wood in it and he told me to get in the "Cut". I dropped to my Boxers and grabbed my ankles... My throat was swelling! "Naw Blood, I do not serve on Blue... You got blue Boxers on... take that shit off!"
"I don't have any Red Boxers!".... "Well, you'll take the shit Bare man!" I was not ready for all that... But I took them off and bent over... WHACK!!!! WHACK!!!! WHACK!!!! WHACK!!!! WHACK!!!! It was not too hard, but just stung enough. Nooty notice my dick gettin hard.
"Aw man, you likin this shit? If you likin it, maybe I need to do something about that..." The strokes got harder and my ass started to sweat... I popped up and said that was enough... "Naw man, I say when it is enough..." I got back in the cut and popped up again after two more... Nooty Back-handed my in the face and I fell to the floor... "Get yo ass up! You like it, take it!" I got back up and was about to get back in the cut... "Naw man, lay yo ass on the floor, face down"... and I did so... "Spread dem legs wide open... you like that wood... see if you like this Cane!" I thought he meant that he was talking about his dick, but he was NOT! Out of his bag cane a Red and White striped cane which was used for STEP... He spit on the end of it and placed it at the my bunghole... I tightened up... but He shoved it in and started moving it around... It was not comfortable at all... And then he started smacking my bare ass with his hand... It really stung... "Moan like a bitch for the Red"... I did so... It lasted about 15-20 minutes... then he stood up and said "Now get yo bitch ass up off the floor, get dressed and take me too the mall!" I did so and we were still cool. He never told anyone what transpired and I always wondered if he enjoyed paddling and fucking me with his KAPPA CANE... I wish I knew.
"I don't have any Red Boxers!".... "Well, you'll take the shit Bare man!" I was not ready for all that... But I took them off and bent over... WHACK!!!! WHACK!!!! WHACK!!!! WHACK!!!! WHACK!!!! It was not too hard, but just stung enough. Nooty notice my dick gettin hard.
"Aw man, you likin this shit? If you likin it, maybe I need to do something about that..." The strokes got harder and my ass started to sweat... I popped up and said that was enough... "Naw man, I say when it is enough..." I got back in the cut and popped up again after two more... Nooty Back-handed my in the face and I fell to the floor... "Get yo ass up! You like it, take it!" I got back up and was about to get back in the cut... "Naw man, lay yo ass on the floor, face down"... and I did so... "Spread dem legs wide open... you like that wood... see if you like this Cane!" I thought he meant that he was talking about his dick, but he was NOT! Out of his bag cane a Red and White striped cane which was used for STEP... He spit on the end of it and placed it at the my bunghole... I tightened up... but He shoved it in and started moving it around... It was not comfortable at all... And then he started smacking my bare ass with his hand... It really stung... "Moan like a bitch for the Red"... I did so... It lasted about 15-20 minutes... then he stood up and said "Now get yo bitch ass up off the floor, get dressed and take me too the mall!" I did so and we were still cool. He never told anyone what transpired and I always wondered if he enjoyed paddling and fucking me with his KAPPA CANE... I wish I knew.
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