"Now, Pull down your pants." I unbuckled my belt, loosened the jeans and lowered the zipper. Then letting go, they fell to my knees and the surface of the bench. Then I grabbed the blue and gold wasteband of my Fruit of the Loom briefs and pulled them off of my bottom and down to join my jeans. Now, my bottom and upper thighs were bare. "Bend Over Now." I grabbed the towel covered edge of the bench near my knees, bending my bottom so that the skin was tight on the muscles--and the cheeks were spread apart--jutting my bottom back to accept the leather.
"Now, I am going to show you once again how we deal with smart mouthed, disobedient children in this family. Are you ready to begin?"
"Uh Huh." I was crying as I tightened my whole body for the upcoming introduction of cowhide to boyhide.
I heard the "whirrrrr" as the leather cut the air, then the "CRACK" as it met its target and then I immediately felt the terrible sting, tightening my grip even more on the edges of the bench.
"YYYYOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWW!" I screamed, now really bawling and choking from the total exhale of gas from my lungs--taking deep breaths and feeling the hot tears run down my face and mixing with sweat and snot. He gave me a few seconds to regain my breath--during which time, the sharp sting that immediately followed the lash turned into a sore burning sensation. I had thought in earlier beltings that Dad was hitting as hard as he could, but I realized with this first, shocking blow that some energy had still been in reserve.
"CCRRRAAACCKKK." This time, I just heard the actual lash, my crying too loud to hear the whir.
"WWWWAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!" Again, I screamed, fighting myself not to let go of the edge of the bench. "PLEASE!!!!!! IT.......HURTS.......TOO........MUCH!" I yelled for mercy between the sobs and coughs.
With the third through the fifteenth lash, I think I became embarrassingly hysterical, still holding on, but twisting my legs and knees wildly as much as I could to wave my bare, rapidly reddening butt through the air to cool it. I sobbed loudly--my whole body--hair to feet becoming drenched with sweat as I kept wondering if I could take this--these deliberate lashes being laid across my bottom and legs. I promised myself that I would never do ANYTHING again to have to end up over this bench...and the whipping kept biting my hide.
Finally, It was over. It had seemed to last an eternity, but really, from the first to the fifteenth lash, had only been four or five minutes--but I thought I had been through Hell and back as I straightened up and slowly pulled the cloth back up over my swollen butt cheeks--gritting my teeth and wincing as the cotton first touched the burned and welted skin. I put my hands behind me and inside my underpants so that I could hold the cloth away from the skin, and I stood there facing my father as he returned his belt to the loops.
"Now, Jonathan. Where are you going to go now?"
It was hard to talk through the slowly quieting sobs. "I...I..'m.....g..g...o...i...n'......t...t...o.......mmy.....room."
"That's right, and I expect you to understand that you are grounded, and I am not going to unground you until I decide that your punishment is over. Is that clear?"
"Y..yes......S...sir."
"Now, Go to your room and I don't want you to leave there until we call you down in the morning."
As I went upstairs past the piercing, and unsympathetic stares of the rest of my family, I kept my hands inside the seat of my pants--keeping the bottom just in contact with air.
I went to bed that night, sleeping on top of my sheets, stomach down and bottom bare, sobbing myself to sleep, promising myself....determined that I would never be whipped again. Too bad that I wasn't as determined to change my behavior. Too bad that I was still fourteen.