- I don't believe that you did this stupid thing again, Chris. I told you not to play with the roller-skate on the sidewalk. You almost threw down that old man.
- But, dad, nothing have happened.
- It could have happened. Don't you see that this is a dangerous play? That you might hurt someone? Tell me, Chris.
- Yes, dad. But I am careful.
- It doesn't matter how careful you are. You might cause an accident. Don't you see that you might throw down a pregnant woman or a children?
- Yes, dad. But ...
- Hush! I don't want to hear another 'but'! If I had done this bull_s_h_i_t_ when I was at your age, my dad would give me a whipping that I'd never forget.
- Dad, you've never talked to me this way before.
- Chris, you're sixteen and I don't want to see you behaving as an irresponsible child. You are wrong and you must admit this.
- I'm sorry, dad.
- Now, Chris, you go to your bedroom. You'll stay there for all the weekend. And for the next two weeks you will not go out to play.
- Dad! I'm on vacations.
- It doesn't matter to me. You're grounded. Next time you think before disrespecting the other people safety.
- But dad, the party!
- Shut up, Chris! Go to your bedroom! Now!
_s_h_i_t_! I couldn't miss that party. All my friends would be there, and the girls too. But dad was so angry that I wouldn't dare ask him again to let me go. What a situation, just because of that stupid old man. In the end, he was not hurt.
No, I couldn't miss that party. So I decided to go anyway.
At seven, I was ready to go out. I found dad in the room, reading a book. He looked at me with some surprise.
- I'm going to the party.
- You are?
- Dad, I can't miss that party. Please, punish me in other way.
- Well, as you are making the decisions on your punishment, what do you suggest?
- You... you might ... uh ... give me a whipping?
- Is this that you want?
- ...
- Look, son, I've never spanked you before cause I don't believe you ever needed this. But now it seems that you do. It's your choice. You still can go back to your bedroom.
- I'm going to the party.
- OK.
- May we deal with this when I come back?
- If you want this way... Enjoy the party.
_s_h_i_t_! I didn't enjoy the party. My mind was on the whipping I would get later. I didn't dance and barely talked to the girl I'd been flirting with. At midnight I couldn't stand being there anymore. So I came back home.
Dad was still reading, siting at the couch.
- How was the party, Chris?
- Great, dad.
- You came back so soon!
Why was he being so ironic? He looked perfectly calm in his pajamas, as if nothing was going to happen.
- Uh ... can we resolve that matter now, dad?
- If you want ... But, no, I guess we can't. I don't have a belt here and I don't want to wake up your mother going into the bedroom to take one.
Was he playing whit me? That calm on his voice was insufferable. So I pulled out my belt and gave it to him. He folded the belt in two and looked at me, waiting. So I bent over the table, holding a cushion.
- It seems that you forgot to take your pants off, son.
I felt completely humiliated, not because I would be partially naked, but because he asked me to did it as if it was a natural thing.
I stood up and took off my pants and my underpants. I didn't want to hear dad asking me to take them off too. And I bent over the table again, pulling up my shirt.
- You tell me when it's enough, son.
God, I didn't believe he was doing this kind of thing to me. It was bad enough to take a whipping, and he was making things worse. I couldn't stand his irony. But I decided I wouldn't cool down. I wouldn't beg him to stop, even if he kept beating me all night long.
The first stroke crossed my but from lest to west, drawing a line of fire on my skin. It would be hard do not yell. But I wouldn't. The belt was striking my butt harder and harder. And I was trying harder and harder not to react to it. Soon my butt was stinging as hell. And dad was beating me unmercifully. I don't know how much time he whipped me, but it seems like an eternity. All I could think was 'I will not beg. I will not beg. I will not...'
- Aaaaaaahhhh! Dad!
He stooped for a while.
- Is it enough, son?
My silence was a signal for him to start the belting again, even harder than before. God, I had to get it without beg him to stop. I had! But, after some more of this unbearable pain, something in me was crying out.
- No more, please!
- Do you want me to stop?
- ...
Another stroke, this time on my thighs.
- Tell me, son.
- Yes, dad.
- Yes what?
- I want you to stop, dad. Please. I had enough.
I was feeling so humiliated that I wanted to be there, bending over the table with my arms around my head, till the end of my life. But after a little time dad grabbed me tenderly by the shoulders, made me stand up and helped me to wear my underpants.
He was standing in front of me, with both hands on my shoulders.
- Chris, I want you to tell me why did you think you have been needing a whipping.
- I've been needing to get it ... to recognize that I was wrong, dad. I must respect the other people.
- And did you learn your lesson?
- Yes, dad. I learned my lesson. I'm sorry.
Dad gave me my pants and my belt and told me to go to the bed. But I just kept standing there.
- Dad, I will never need another of this.