The shop assistant was a young guy, Probably about nineteen. But to me, a ten year old boy, although big for my age, he was still too strong to pull away from as he dragged me over to the manager's office to hand me over for stealing. The worst part was that he knew who I was - his parents and mine were old friends
The manager wasn't in the office, so I was told to sit and wait.
"Mr Jones will be here in a minute, and he can call your father."
"Please Mark. You're my friend! Let me off!"
"No way!" he looked at me in a strange way, "What will your father do anyway?"
"He'll ground me for months! And it's nearly school holidays. I'll miss my friends, sports, everything!"
"Won't he give you a hiding?"
"Nah. He doesn' believe in corporal punishment."
"Jeez! If you were my kid, I'd whip your butt so that you wouldn't sit comfortably for weeks!"
An idea was forming in my head. I had probably had had more hidings at school than any other grade five, and I knew I could handle a fair amount of pain. Maybe I would be able to get away without being grounded after all.
"Mark, I have an idea."
"Yeah? What?"
"How about I come home with you now, and you can treat me as if I am your son. You give me a thrashing, and don't report me to the manager."
Mark didn't take much convincing. I think that was what he was hoping for anyway. An hour later, we were at his parent's house, in his father's study. They were away for the weekend.
"I'm going to give it to you the same way as my dad used to thrash me, okay?"
"Sure."
"It's going to be bad, Lain," he said with some doubt in his voice, "are you sure you want to go through with this?"
"Oh, for _f_u_c_k_'s sake Mark. I've had hidings before. You're supposed to be acting like my father and punishing me. Don't worry!"
"Right. And because I'm your father today, you're getting an extra six for swearing. Now strip."
I hadn't been expecting to have to undress, but this had been my idea, and I was going to go through with it. Besides, at ten, I didn't really mind being naked in front of an older guy. I picked my clothes up and threw them defiantly into a corner, to show how tough I was. Then I stood, stark naked, shamelessly awaiting my next order. I didn't realize that my attitude had made Mark determined to turn me into a sobbing little wreck with a very sore bottom.
"Fetch the strop," he ordered, gesturing towards the wall where a strop and a riding crop were hanging.
Confidently, I stepped over and lifted the strop off the wall. When I felt the solid weight of the beating implement, I started getting a little nervous. This particular strop was not for shaving, it was for thrashing boy's bottoms, and mark was about to put it to good use. I gripped it by its wooden handle and gave it to Mark. He hefted it, grinning.
"I've only ever been on the receiving end of this," he chuckled, "no I can see what it's like using it on another kid."
He looked down at me, and I could feel the tears pricking at my eyes when I saw the cruel expression on his face.
"You're going to go easy on me, right Mark?" I enquired, "I'm only ten remember."
"You asked for this, Lain. You're getting what you deserve."
He pointed at the leather couch.
"Bend over that chair."
Still not prepared to give into the growing nervousness that I was feeling, I stepped over to the couch and draped my naked body over the back of it. It was too high for me just to bend over, so I had to lie over it. On Mark's directions, I shuffled up so that my hands were supporting me on the cushion of the chair and my feet were barely touching the ground. Now my bare bottom was right at the apex of the triangle formed by my body. I could feel Mark's hands trembling as they moved my legs wide apart, so that I was now spread-eagled in this compromising position.
Judging by the new, very serious atmosphere in the room, I thought it best to keep my mouth shut, and didn't dare look around as I felt the heavy leather strop being placed squarely on on spread out and upraised bottom.
"You're getting one dozen lashes for stealing," announced Mark, "and another six for swearing."
He paused for a moment.
"Lain, this is your last chance. You can still get dressed and I'll just take you home to your father. This is going to be really sore, and once I begin, we're both committed."
I was tempted. The weight of the strop resting on my naked tail was very intimidating. But the thought of at least eight weeks with no friends, TV or anything was too much. I was sure it would be worth the pain. The other thing was that I had gone this far - I was lying here stark naked waiting for a hiding that I had literally asked for - I couldn't back down now.
"I'll still take a lashing from you."
"Okay." he adopted his firm voice again, "Make sure you stay still."
The strop was lifted, and brought down hard across my exposed bottom. The pain was totally different from the school cane - the strop wrapped right across my bare bottom, covering an equal area of both cheeks with heavy, fiery agony. I was determined to impress Mark, so I managed not to cry out. But after the third equally hard lash, I couldn't help myself, and yelped in pain. This was my first strapping (and, as the future would have it, not my last from Mark) and after six strokes I was howling my eyes out and squirming in agony.
Mark paused, and I started to get up, expecting a reptrieve from my sentence. But I was firmly pushed back down, with a promise of more if I didn't lie still. My bottom throbbed as Mark took a short break, then my beating continued. Mark had got into his rythm now, and the whistle of the crop through the air, the crack as it smashed across my naked backside, the pain and my howls made up my whole universe.
After the next six, Mark took another break. My bottom was so sore I couldn't even identify the individual welts anymore. All I knew was that the top third of my bum was untouched, the middle was burning like mad, but the botom part, just above my legs, felt as if it had been set alight. Mark had obviously been in this position often before himself, and knew that a ten year old's bottom is at its most sensitive just above the legs.
The final six were really drawn out. I suspect Mark was rather enjoying himself, and wanted to prolong the session. I was focused purely on the pain - and in fact the rest of the world receded completely as my entire being was focused on my bare bottom, and the tension of waiting for the nest excrutiating lash to smash across my unprotected pushed up tail. Few ten year old boys, even tough ones like me, experienced hidings like this.
Finally it was over, and I was allowed to stand and rub my burning little bottom. Mark invited me to put my pants back on, but it was a while before I could draw the soft cotton of my underpants over my raw cheeks.
"Do you think you made the right decision - to be whipped instead of grounded?" asked Mark.
A good question. My fiercly throbbing bottom was a major part of my life right now, but I knew that the pain would be long gone while I was enjoying my holiday.
"Yes, Mark," I sobbed, "at least I can still go and play."
"Good," replied Mark, "and I'll be keeping my eye out for you. maybe I'll have you over this couch again some time soon!"