"Does the prisoner wish to make a statement before sentence is pronounced?" The handsome blond youth stood before the judge's bench with lowered gaze. "No, your honor," he said softly. The judge looked stern. It wasn't a good sign. "You have pleaded guilty to trespass, willful destruction of property and drunk and disorderly conduct during your spree, and you are hereby sentenced to six months in the county jail." The gavel fell with a resounding crack. "If your honor please," said Jeremy earnestly, "I am enrolled in college full time. I am captain of the gymnastics team. What I did was wrong, but it was after a team party when I'd had a belt too many. But six months! I'll have to drop out of school, and lose my athletic scholarship! I ask for the leniency of the court in this sentence." The judge peered down at him thoughtfully. After a long silence, the judge said quietly, "Approach the bench, young man." Jeremy stepped forward. He was truly concerned for his future. "I am not inclined toward leniency, young man," the judge said gruffly. "You caused several hundred dollars worth of damage in driving your car through several private properties. The only thing I will consider is an alternate sentence. One that will allow you to continue your schooling."
"Thank you, your honor. I am willing to accept anything. I am really sorry. I had just had a belt too many!"
"So you say, but I think you had a belt too few. So I propose to have you given another belt--a good strapping with a policeman's belt across the bottom. A childish punishment for a childish crime. If this sentence is carried out today, you will walk out of this courthouse a free man. Or you can do your six months. Your choice." Jeremy swallowed. A strapping with a policeman's thick leather belt! He looked around at the cops standing about the courtroom. Big, muscular guys all of them. This would hurt like hell, there was not a doubt! But six months in the cooler? The decision was a tough one. At last Jeremy said, "All right, your honor. I'll take the strapping."
"Very well," said the judge in a voice which echoed from the farthest wall of the room. "In lieu of six months incarceration the defendant is sentenced to spend the afternoon in a holding cell to contemplate his crime. At four p. m. he will be taken to an appropriate room of the courthouse where he will be given twenty-five strokes of a policeman's belt across the bare bottom by an officer to be chosen at that time. Take him away!" Again the gavel fell, this time with an air of finality. Jeremy opened his mouth to gasp out his objection. Nothing had been said about the strapping being given on the BARE bottom! He definitely was not ready for that. But a firm hand grabbed his arm and before he could speak he was whisked from the courtroom. Spectators peered after him with curiosity, mumbling and giggling to each other as they watched his astonished concern.
Page 2
As Jeremy sat alone in a corner of the cell he ran hot and cold. A strapping--an old-fashioned spanking. How bad can that be? But with a thick leather belt, wielded by a powerful, angry policeman! And Jeremy with his bottom bared? Pretty bad. Maybe he should have done the time. But after this, it will all be over. Maybe this was best. It was a quandry.
In the officer's lounge, all conversation was about the unique punishment to be handed out this afternoon. A number of the cops had always thought that the rowdy college boys they had to deal with needed nothing so much as a good spanking, and now here it was. A six-foot-one, twenty year old college sophomore was going to get it, right here this afternoon. The judge had left it up to the officers to choose the one to deal out the swats and to arrange sufficient witness to the punishment to ensure that it was carried out fairly. About a dozen cops volunteered to give the whipping, and by drawing straws the honor was bestowed on Sgt. Mike Brubaker, a hefty career cop who looked forward to his chore with glee. A discussion was held about witnesses. How many were necessary. It was decided that only one or two were NECESSARY, but since the punishment was dependent on humiliation as much as pain, more witnesses were DESIRABLE. In fact, suggested one cop, since the kid was young, well-built and good looking, the whole thing might be a good entertainment for some of the secretaries. Everyone agreed. A reservation list for witnesses was circulated. Finally, the details of the application of the punishment were discussed, and a step-by-step scenario was adopted for carrying out the whole operation.
At a few minutes until four, three policemen came to the cell for Jeremy. By now he was sure that this whole thing was a mistake, but he could tell by their faces that it was much too late now to backtrack and take the six months instead. "Okay, kid," said one of the cops. "Strip."
"Wait a minute!" gasped Jeremy. "What's going on? Is this necessary?"
"We said, get out of your clothes. Or we'll do it for you." He saw that they would. Apprehensively, Jeremy sat down and slipped off his shoes and socks. Next came the shirt and tie, and then his T-shirt. "Where are you taking me for this?" he asked. "Shouldn't we go there before I do this?"
"The pants, son," said one cop implacibly. Jeremy unbuckled his pants, and under the disinterested gaze of the three officers he lowered them and laid them aside. He adjusted his jockey shorts and stood his ground. "Go on, son," said one cop. "The rest." Jeremy looked from blank face to blank face. There was no sympathy for him in any of them. Well, he thought, I guess I'd better get this over with. He gripped the waistband of his shorts and pulled them off. When he was naked, one officer produced a small towel and handed it to Jeremy. "Here, son," he said, "you can use this ... for now." Jeremy wrapped the towel around his waist and was escorted by the three cops out of the cell and down the hallway.
Page 3
The little party made their way down several long corridors--PUBLIC corridors, Jeremy noticed with horror. Passersby both male and female turned to stare at the odd procession--three implacable policemen escorting a handsome, athletic youth wearing nothing but a skimpy towel. By now, of course, everyone in the courthouse knew of the punishment to be meted out, and they all knew where this procession was headed. Several people tried to get a better view of the prisoner--especially of the full, rounded bottom that was about to feel the belt. Jeremy's towel only just covered the bottom in question, and if he moved too quickly, its corner would flip up and give some lucky bystander a preview. After what seemed forever, they reached the conference room that had been chosen for the punishment. The doors opened and Jeremy was propelled inside, where he was shocked and horrified to find some fifty or sixty people waiting. "Witnesses," said one of his escorts. Several young women among the "witnesses" expressed open pleasure at their first sight of the smooth-fleshed young man in his brief loincloth, and giggled at the anticipation of how much more they were ABOUT to see. "Wait a minute!" protested Jeremy. "This wasn't part of the deal!"
"No deal," said one of his escorts. "You chose the punishment, and we'll give it as we see fit." Across the front of the room a long table was set up, and lying on the table was a long, heavy leather strap. Once Jeremy spotted it, he could barely take his eyes off of it. It looked vicious. As Jeremy watched, a heavy-set sergeant picked up the belt and wrapped the buckled end around his fist a couple of times. He hefted the belt, getting a feel for it. Jesus! thought Jeremy. So that's the guy that's going to do it! If he puts his weight behind it, he'll kill me! Several uniformed policemen waited for Jeremy at the table. His escorts guided him through the crowd of witnesses a good deal faster than he felt like walking. In no time at all he was in the front of the room. He felt his time running out ... FAST! While the sergeant with the belt watched, a tell-tale glint in his eye, two other officers grabbed Jeremy by the shoulders and spun him around facing the table, his back to the majority of the witnesses. Then came a moment he dreaded. A hand at his waist roughly groped for a corner of the towel, and with a quick snap it was snatched away from him. He was naked, completely stark-raving, bare-assed naked, and although his back was to them, he knew that every pair of eyes in that room was on his buttocks. A murmur ran around the room. Several men snickered, and a number of the women giggled or sighed openly. To his horror, Jeremy felt a stirring in his crotch. He strained with all his might, but he could not stop his _c_o_c_k_ from twitching and rising to attention. He looked around. Maybe a dozen cops could see. One of them grinned at him. It was not a friendly grin. They were enjoying his embarrassment.
Page 4
The cops knew what they were doing. They waited a long, long moment, just letting Jeremy stand there--the only naked man in a roomful of observers. Those that saw his throbbing, pulsing hard-on bobbing up and down with each pulse of its engorged veins wished that they had not turned him away from the audience before taking the towel. After everyone had gotten a good look, one of the cops began to position Jeremy for the strapping. "Come on, kid," he said, "lean down on the table with your elbow, and grab your balls with your other hand, so they don't get hurt." As he spoke, the officer pushed Jeremy down into position, half standing and half leaning, and with an experienced foot, kicked Jeremy's feet apart to make his stance more awkward. The position had its intended effect--through Jeremy's wide-spread legs, his insistent hard-on was visible to everyone and as a loud reaction rippled through the audience, Jeremy realized what was happening and grabbed his _c_o_c_k_ and balls for dear life. The officer carefully positioned Jeremy, grabbing him by the naked thighs to position his body, and then patting him repeatedly on the ass as though to make the target ready. Jeremy's backside was full and fleshy, and each pat of the policeman's caloused hand sent quivers through both pink cheeks and the upper thighs, too. The audience was delighted. "Are you ready?" someone asked. Jeremy closed his eyes tightly, clenched his teeth and nodded. There was a long pause. He heard the shuffling of his punishers positioning themselves. Then a quick, loud "Whisssssh!" and Jeremy felt a searing pain across his backside that drove every other thought from his mind. No longer was he conscious of his nakedness, of the audience, of his humiliating hard-on. There was nothing in Jeremy's world but the awful, hot, pulsing pain in his buttocks. He strained to remain silent, and managed to suppress all but a single strangled grunt. He didn't even hear the next one coming. But suddenly there it was--a sharp, excruciating pain right across the base of his buttocks and the tops of his thighs. This time the end of the belt flicked his hip and left its own short, sharp sting. He gasped--a quick intake of breath that sounded across the room. The witnesses were largely silent, perhaps taken a little aback at the amount of pain obviously being inflicted on this strong, handsome, naked young turk. Each blow left its distinct welt across the expanse of vulnerable flesh that spread exposed before the insistent belt. After the fifth stroke the boy's whole bottom flamed red and the strokes began landing atop the welts left by others. The prisoner held out until the eighth stroke before he cried out openly, and it was about the fifteenth before his body began to heave with sobs. But still they rained down on the naked flesh. Twenty-five had been the sentence, and twenty-five were administered. By the time the sergeant dropped the hot leather belt onto the
Page 5
table beside Jeremy and grunted "Alright, kid, it's over," Jeremy had long since stopped caring that all these people were seeing him naked. He stood and stumbled about, gripping the table for support, oblivious to the fact that as he turned around and around he was showing the crowd everything that he had. To Jeremy, the ONLY thing that he had was his flaming, throbbing, burning-hot backside. One of the officers gave him back his towel and began to escort him back down the hallway. Again, passersby gawked at the sobbing youth and his escort. Jeremy no longer cared. Somewhere along the endless trek to the holding cell he lost the towel. He didn't even notice. He didn't care any more. "There's your clothes, kid," said the escort when they got back to the cell. "Maybe you want to rest it a bit. Get dressed when you want, and we'll check you out of here." Jeremy lay down on the cot--on his stomach--and felt the cooling air flow across his burning naked bottom. As the pain subsided and his rational mind began to return, Jeremy resolved that today, here and now, he had had his LAST belt!