He ignored me. "Take hold of your ankles and don't let go until I tell you that you may." I hadn't wanted to cry, but I was starting to now, as I held my ankles--causing my bottom to open up in preparation for what would come next.
The belt came down hard--making me almost let go of my ankles--the breath hissing out between clenched teeth as I fought not to start bawling--that was ok at home, but at school where someone else might hear me?
The belt came down a second time--Man, he is good at whipping a kid! I yelped in pain, "OW!" as he brought it down the third time--and the intensity continued to increase as did the heat I could feel in my increasingly sore bottom. The whipping was methodic--center of the right cheek, center of the left cheek, both cheeks in the cleft and then the right cheek, then the upper left. Fourteen times, I heard the belt move rapidly towards its mark, then the crack as the cowhide met the boy hide.
I marvelled in fear at how thoroughly I was being punished--thinking about some weird things like, doesn't the belt sound like it is saying, "wwwhhhiiii" as it comes towards the hide then a loud, "PPPPPPP" as it welts the target. I kept trying to concentrate on the tightness of my teeth, clenching rather than on the pain to my bottom. When I was successful, I could avoid the yelps of pain. I was ashamed feeling the tears that were uncontrollably running down my face--surely reddening those cheeks as rapidly as the strap reddened my other cheeks. Then, I noticed how the pain would be the worse when I thought about the pain that awaited me that night. I was miserable.
Finally, he finished. I was allowed to straighten up and arrange my clothes--feeling the pulsating of my butt cheeks--clenching them to try to soothe the hot burning flames--wanting to check on the damage. I left the punishment room trying to avoid having the cotton briefs rub against the welted throbbing hide. I went to the nearest bathroom to wash my face with cool water--trying to wipe away the red streaks where the tears had run down my face.
While there, my bottom jerked furiously as I thought, even mumbling out loud in near tears misery, "How the HELL am I gonna take Dad's belt tonight on top of THIS?"
The rest of the day, I sat slowly--trying to slouch in my desks in such a way as to put minimal weight on my destroyed bottom--embarrassed when my Earth Science teacher told me to straighten up and one of the kids in class laughing, said, "He can't. The Dean of Discipline made his butt sort of unsittable!"
Finally, I got home and rushed to the bathroom to check the damage--my first chance--and was horrified by what I saw. It was obvious what had been done--the cheeks had well defined red stripes on them--a dark red while the areas where the strap had not been laid were a bright pink. It was quite obvious that the stripes had been intentionally put there--it would not look like this if I had fallen or something. I had been whipped. I ran my hands over the stripes--feeling that they were raised like red mesas rising over a pink landscape. The welts were hot to the touch, and I would involuntarily flinch a the touch. I went to my room and buried my head in my pillow for a good cry before--still lying on my stomach, I attempted to do my homework--dreading the arrival of my father.
At about 6pm, I heard the car come into the driveway--and my breathing became harder. I knew that the plan was to deal with me forthwith--and I knew that I deserved what was to be done. My bottom again began to twitch--quite painful because of the stripes already there.
My twelve year old brother came upstairs and into my room of confinement. "Mom and Dad want to see you." His voice held a solemness and pity as if he were talking to a condemned man.
"All Right." I rolled off of the bed and stood up--really scared.
"Good Luck." He said, knowing what was going to happen and that being the only thing that he could think to say.
I slowly went down to the living room where my parents waited. "Here I am." I started to cry, seeing the serious look on their faces--and standing, hands behind my back, I listened to the harsh lecture. Did I know how much it cost to send me to that school? Did I know what acceptable behavior was? How could I have done something like what I did?...The questions were all rhetorical, thank God since I was just standing there crying.
"I hope that the Dean of Discipline was thorough today, young man, because we are certainly going to be thorough tonight!" My mother was looking forward to seeing me punished--and showed her anticipation by bringing up recent unpunished acts of insolence of mine at home. "Tonight, We are going to set you straight!"