The only other time I got the strap from Glen was when I was 17 and a junior in high school. My mom and dad (I had called him dad for years at this point) and my girlfriend Tammy and I had all gone to the park together. I don't even remember what started the argument between my mom and I, but I do recall that at some point I said something like, "Come on, mom. Stop being such a bitch" and she slapped me right there in front of Tammy and some kids that were playing near us.
Without even thinking my right hand came up, and almost in slow motion I watched in horror as it struck her across her mouth. It really did look like someone else's hand as I watched it connect with her face, and as my mom's face turned away from the slap (still in slow motion) I suddenly felt my dad's hand grabbing a fistful of my shirt.
Suddenly back in real time he half lifted me off my feet and slammed me into the tree that was behind me. "What the hell do you think you're doing!?!" he shouted at me.
I couldn't believe what had just happened. I looked, panic stricken, at my mom. "I'm sorry! Mom, I'm sorry! Are you okay?"
My dad slapped me hard then, and I blinked back tears as he said, "Get your ass home. Now!"
Tammy grabbed my shirt sleeve with her finger tips, looking at my dad with wide, terrified eyes. "Come on" she whispered, and tugged at me to follow.
"I don't want you there when I get home, Tammy. You just drop him off" said my dad.
"Okay" she whispered and brushed a tear out of her eye.
When we got to her car I put my head down on her dashboard as she started to drive away. "Oh, God" I said. "I'm in so much trouble. I can't believe I did that."
Tammy was crying now, and I said, "Why are YOU crying?" as I struggled to keep my own tears down. I wasn't as prone to crying now as I was when I was younger, but this was bad. This was really, really bad.
"You're scaring me, Ryan" she said.
My heart sank when she said that, and I reached out tentatively with my left hand. She took it and said, "How could you do that to your mom?"
I angrily wiped at my eyes and said, "It was an accident! Tammy, you have to believe me. I'm not like that, okay? This has NEVER happened before. I swear to God!" It made me feel physically sick to think that she was afraid of me.
"Okay" she said, calmly. It was a very short drive and as I hopped out and ran for the house I heard her say, "Good luck!" If she only knew what I was probably in for...
I was scared _s_h_i_t_less of what my dad was going to do, but I also knew I deserved whatever was coming. I didn't know how to ask my mom for forgiveness, and in addition to being scared to death I was also racked with guilt.
I decided to start taking my punishment before he said anything to me, just to show them both that I knew that what I had done was wrong and that I was sorry. I slipped my shoes off, then threw my pants on the couch. Pulling my belt out of the loops I walked over to the corner of the living room where my dad occasionally made me stand when I was being punished (though that hadn't been for almost two years). When they came in I would hand him the belt -- to prove just how wrong I knew I was -- and then I'd just hope for the best.
It was just a few minutes later that I heard the back door slam and my dad yelled, "RYAN!!!"
My dread turned to terror. I had never heard him so mad in my whole life. What was he going to do to me, I wondered.
"Yes, sir!" I said, loud enough so that he'd know I was in the living room. I heard my mother mumble something and then my dad again shouted, "Ryan!"
"Yes, sir!" I said, not moving from my corner. I knew they'd find me now, since he had shouted from just the other room.
They came around the corner and I heard my mom say, "oh" and their feet plodded to a stop. I hung my head as low as I could and tried not to cry.
They must not have been prepared for me to be standing there like that because there was an awkward pause before my dad said, "Turn around." My stomach did flip flops as he spoke, and I started to shake. He was really, really pissed.
I just looked over my shoulder and burst into tears. "I'm sorry, mom!" I wailed. "It was an accident! I didn't mean it! I'm so sorry." I had to look away, ashamed, and I just hung my head again.
"I said turn around" said my dad. I was shaking all over, but I turned and clumsily stepped forward and handed him my belt.
"I'm sorry, dad" I could only whisper.
He yanked the belt out of my hand and grabbed me painfully by my ear. As he dragged me forward my mother intervened and said, "No! No. Not right now." She stood between us and put a hand on each of our chests, pushing us apart. Looking at my father she said, "You're too mad right now. Give me the belt" and she held her hand out expectantly.
He wiped his hand across his face and handed her the belt, and again I started to bawl and I put one hand on my mom's shoulder and through my tears said, "I'm so sorry. Are you okay? Mom? I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
Her eyes watered up then and tears spilled out of her eyes, but she didn't say anything. She gently grabbed the back of my head and pushed my face into the corner where I had been standing. "Just be quiet for a while" she whispered.
"Yes, ma'am!" I said, struggling not to cry anymore.
"I want you to walk with me, Glen" she said to my dad.
"I'm sorry -- " I started, but he said, "Be QUIET!" and I cringed and shut up fast.
"All right" I heard him say. "Give me that."
And then my mom said, "Glen -- "
"It's okay" he said. "After the walk" and I suddenly felt his arms on my shoulders, turning me around. "Come here, you" he said, and started to yank my t-shirt up over my head. Next he hooked his finger into my jockeys and started to yank them down right there in front of my mother.
"Dad!" I said, chagrined. I was 17, after all.
He yanked hard -- hard enough to get them out of my own fingers, and I doubled over and snatched them up off the ground as he pulled me forward by my upper arm. "Let's go" he said, dragging me through the diningroom.
I very awkwardly tried to hold my underwear down in front of my privates, painfully aware that my mother was seeing me naked (if only from the back). He dragged me through the kitchen wearing only my socks. As we reached the back door and he started to open it I screamed, "Dad! No! What are you doing?!? Dad! Dad!!! Stop!" but it was no use. He dragged and shoved me across the yard to the garage, and when I saw where we were going I ran ahead of him and practically dove in.
I knew for a fact that our neighbors were on vacation, and there was only a little part of our backyard that you could see from the street. That was the part where I had started running. With the gates closed, you couldn't see into the garage itself.
I cowered there, holding my underwear in front of me. He walked up to me, yanked my underwear out of my hand and lead me by the back of my neck to the far corner of the garage. "Put your hands on your head" he said, and I complied. The next moment I heard a loud CRACK! and then fire lit my butt from one side to the other.
"OW!" I screamed and jerked forward. He had never hit me that hard before.
He hung the belt around my neck and said, "You stand there and think about what you've got coming. Your mother and I are going for a walk. You move so much as one inch from this position and you're getting it double out on the front lawn. Is that clear?"
I hung my head and half nodded yes, and I felt his hand go SMACK! on my left butt cheek and he said, "Is that clear?!?"
"Yes, sir!" I shouted, and pushed my head against the garage wall. He put his arm around my waist then and slapped my butt another hard six or seven times with his bare hand, and then walked away without saying another word.
It seemed like a geological age passed before I heard him come back into the garage. In the time that I had been standing there (10 minutes? 10 hours? I couldn't be sure) I had really worked myself up into a frenzy. I was sure I was going to puke any second.
"Turn around and give me the belt" my dad said.
I did as he said, shaking like a leaf as I handed it to him.
"Put your feet farther apart and grab your ankles" he said. Again I obeyed, and it was hard to keep my balance I was shaking so hard. He had never punished me this way before, but it was extremely humiliating and I was sure he was going to hit me harder than he ever had.
"YEOW!!!" the belt cracked against my butt, and I bent my knees but kept my hands on my ankles.
"Straighten your legs" my dad said, and as I pushed my knees back more fire lanced across my upper thighs.
"Ugh!!!" I yelled, and again bent my knees.
"Straighten -- your -- legs" my dad said, spacing the words in a tone of voice that scared me so bad I had to force vomit back down. My throat burned, and I spit on the floor as I again pushed my knees back.
He walked around me in circles, not saying anything, and then again CRACK! the belt connected with my butt right at the bottom of my cheeks.
"DAD!!!" I screamed, "I'm sorry!!! Please -- " CRACK!!! the belt landed again on my upper thighs and without thinking I leaped up and grabbed my butt, howling.
I wasn't even crying openly at this point. That would have been too much effort. I was struggling just to breathe I was so afraid and in so much pain. Without any expression on his face my father pointed to the floor in front of him and said, "Get back down here."
With a supreme effort I managed to squeak out, "Daddy, please" and I shook my head no. I don't know why I said that, exactly. I had only ever called him dad or Glen, but his shoulders seemed to relax. Unfortunately, he pointed again at the floor and I obediently plodded over to him, turned around and grabbed my ankles.
I yelped when his hand patted my butt, even though he didn't do it hard. "Maybe you should just go over my lap now" he said.
"I'm sorry, dad. I'm sorry" I said, still holding onto my ankles and bawling again.
I felt him gently grab my shoulder and pull me to standing, and in the same motion he led me over to a step stool. Putting his foot up on it he bent me over his leg, half standing, and began smacking my ass with his bare hand.
It hurt bad, but not as bad as the belt. This, at least, was familiar and so was far less terrifying. He spanked me longer than he ever had before, and I didn't resist him or ask him to stop. I just bawled my head off, and when I started to get hoarse I wondered if he were ever going to stop.
He finally did stop, and I let myself go limp over his knee. I felt his hands on my side, and I let him pull me up and then I flung my arms around his neck and cried quietly against his chest. He hugged me tightly, but he said, "I'm very mad at you, son. You know why."
"Yes, sir" I said, wondering if things were ever going to be the same between all of us.
"You go to your room and stay there" he said, patting my side. "You're grounded for two months."
I pulled back from him and looked down at my naked body. "Like this?" I asked. It was getting dark out, but there was still plenty of light. He pulled his sweatshirt up over his head and then pulled it down over mine. As I put my arms through it he got my underwear from the other side of the garage, shook them out, and handed them to me.
I gingerly pulled them up, and then ran across the yard to the house. I went upstairs and threw myself down on my bed and cried a little more. I didn't sleep at all well that night. I tossed and turned, daydreaming about how my mom probably hated me, about how things would never be the same between us again, about how disappointed in me they both must be. All kinds of wild things went through my head and I tortured myself with them for hours and hours.
At about 5:00 a. m. the next morning I got up to pee, and as I flushed my dad walked in behind me.
He didn't say anything, just rubbed his hand in my hair, and I hugged him and rested my head on his chest.
"Do you want to come lay down with us?" he said.
I looked up at him and swallowed hard. Did that mean I was forgiven? I didn't answer him, but he gently pushed me toward the door and walked behind me as we made our way to their bedroom. I stopped in the doorway and saw my mom roll over in their bed.
She probably did still hate me, I thought, but dad had said to come lay down with them. I didn't know what to do.
"Mom?" I called quietly.
She opened her eyes and smiled at me and said, "Hey."
Just then my dad came up behind me, put his arm over my shoulder and let it hang down my chest and pulled me to him so that my back rested against his front.
"I've brought a bad kid to come lay down with us" he said to my mom.
She smiled wider, and I launched myself at the bed and buried my head in her shoulder. "I'm sorry, mom!" I said, crying hard. I was so tired of crying at that point. I was so exhausted, period.
"You know you're big enough to hurt me now, don't you?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am!" I said, crying into her shoulder.
"And you know we both love you very much?"
"Yes, ma'am."
I felt my dad's hand on my butt and he said, "How's the cheeks, kid?"
"Ow" I said, reaching back and grabbing his wrist. "Dad, that hurts."
"Let me see" he said, and without waiting for me to answer he slid my jockeys down a little bit.
"No marks. No permanent damage" he said, and yanked them back up.
"It still hurts" I said, rolling over so that he wouldn't do any more to my tender cheeks.
He put his hand on my belly and said, "Are you mad at your dad?"
"No, sir" I said, truthfully. I sniffed loudly and wiped at my eyes..
He flopped down on his back and pulled me over to him. "That's my boy" he said as I rolled over and put my head halfway between his shoulder and his chest. I put one leg over his, and I felt his hand come up and gently scratch the back of my head. As he did that, I felt my mom's hand rub back and forth across my shoulder blades and up and down the length of my back.
I was asleep in seconds.