My brother Dave, two years younger, was a great trumpeter in high school and our parents had finally broken down and bought him this really expensive silver trumpet. They never had to nag Dave to practice because he practiced all the time. Of course, like all parents, when they bought him the trumpet they made no small deal of how much it cost and told him under dire threats to be sure to take good care of it and not to leave it out and about where it could get damaged. They didn't even have to tell Dave this because he treated the trumpet like it was a magic possession, watching over it carefully.
From time to time, I would take the trumpet out and play with it a bit. While I wasn't as good as Dave, I could get a little music out of it and so I would take it out from time to time. One time, I took it out and forgot to put it away. Before Dave came home and put it away, our dad came home and found it out. He took it into his bedroom and didn't say anything until later that night. Dave and I were sitting in the family room watching TV when dad came into the room and asked Dave where his trumpet was. Dave said it was in his room and dad said he would like to see it. Dave went into our bedroom to get it and after a few minutes came back into the family room with a really distressed look on his face, saying it was not there. Our dad left the room and came back just a minute later with the trumpet, still out of its case, and laid it on the coffee table. Dave looked really stunned.
Dad looked really ticked off. "Didn't I tell you to take care of this and not leave it out, Dave?" he asked.
Dave said that he had always put it away. This seemed to make dad even angrier. Without saying anything else, he unbuckled his belt and pulled it off. Both Dave and I spent some time in feeling it and developing a good fear of it.
Dad gestured towards the ottoman. "Alright, David, get over the ottoman."
Dave looked ashen. "But I'm too old for a spanking, dad...and I didn't leave it out."
Dad snapped his belt angrily and pointed at the ottoman with it. 'Let me decide when you're too old, now get over the ottoman before I count to three or you'll get it with your pants down!"
Dave usually didn't argue but this time he sort of held his ground. "But dad, trust me, I didn't leave it out, I don't know why it was out."
Dad just pointed at the ottoman with his belt and shook his head. Both Dave and I knew the routine by now. When called by our father into the room for a whipping, we were supposed to lay over the ottoman, with either pants up or down depending on the seriousness of the offense.
Dave finally started moving towards the ottoman and was about to bend over when dad told him to drop his pants as well. Dave hesitated for a second and then unbuckled his belt and lowered his gray pants down to his ankles, knelt on the floor, and laid over the ottoman with just his jockey shorts to protect him from dad's belt. I could see Dave'e cheeks sort of tensing up, anticipating the first stroke from dad's belt.
Dad walked over and stood behind the ottoman. Without saying anything, he began whipping Dave pretty good with his heavy black belt, delivering swats all over Dave's rear end. At first, probably because I was in the room, Dave was trying really hard not to make any sound so the only noise was the loud CRACK of dad's belt as it hit Dave's butt but after about eight or nine licks, he began calling out, "Please stop, please" and kicking his legs up every time dad laid the strap across his backside. He licked Dave a little longer than normal, giving him maybe thirty good hard strokes, until Dave was crying pretty hard and yelling out each time the belt landed. Then dad slipped his belt back onto his pants and left the room.
Dave stood up, rubbing his butt good, and then he pulled his pants up. After a little bit, he stopped crying and left the room, without saying anything. Later, when we were in our room, Dave asked me if I knew how the trumpet got left out and I said that I had no idea.
A week or so later, I was playing with Dave's trumpet one more time when Dave came in with one of his friends from band, another trumpet player called Scott. When he saw me playing with his trumpet, he was really angry. "What are you doing with my trumpet?" I didn't say anything but started to put it away. "Were you playing with it last week and left it out?" I still didn't say anything but Dave turned to Scott, "He left my trumpet out and I got licked for it."
Scott told Dave he should just tell our father. Dave seemed to like that idea at first and said he was going to tell pop when he got home. I pleaded with Dave not to tell dad, saying I would do anything to make it up to him.
Scott, who was the same age as Dave, said "Anything?" I snapped back at Scott, "I'm not talking to you, _d_i_c_k_head." Dave didn't seem too pleased with this either and said he would just go ahead then and tell pop. He laughed, "Maybe Scott can stay until dad comes home and hear you get a whipping for getting me in trouble." I had no desire to get whipped, with or without Scott around, so I again told Dave I would do anything he said.
"Okay' Dave said, "I'll give you some things to do. If you do them all, I won't tell dad. But if you refuse to do one thing, even if you've done all the others, I'll tell dad what you left it out and he'll give you the belt good." I agreed reluctantly and expected Dave to begin acting like the young lord after Scott had left.
Without even pausing, Dave started to unbuckle his belt and he slipped it off of his pants and doubled it up, copying dad's normal movement almost perfectly. He pointed at the ottoman with his doubled up belt. "Okay, over the ottoman!" I asked him to wait until Scott left. Dave shook his head. "No, you saw me get whipped and Scott can watch you get it. And since you delayed, get those pants down!" I decided delaying any further would be even worse so I walked over to the ottoman, lowered my jeans, and draped myself across the ottoman on my stomach, so my knees were on the floor and my butt, covered only by my jockeys, was facing Dave and Scott. Dave took his belt and started whipping me with it, giving me some really hard whacks. It really stung, although not as hard as dad's. It was not because it wasn't a good sized belt. Dave's belt was a black leather belt, almost two inches wide and pretty thick. Dave just didn't have the muscles dad did or the technique either. Still, it was stinging pretty good and I was yelling out "ow" as he laid into me. Meanwhile, Scott was standing there telling Dave to really give it to me. But I was determined not to cry in front of my younger brother and his pal so I held out, even though my butt felt like it was on fire.
After about twenty five licks, Dave stopped and slipped his belt back on. "Okay, you did the first thing I told you. Now, about calling my friend Scott a _d_i_c_k_head. Scott can do what he wants to you for that." I started to object but Dave reminded me he could just tell dad what happened and I would get the licking from him. So when Scott pulled on my arm I got up and followed him over to the couch. Scott sat on the couch and pulled me over his lap, still in my undershorts. At first, he positioned me just where he wanted me, and I ended up with my rear just past his right thigh, so my crotch was rubbing against the inside of his right leg. Without saying much, Scott started spanking me with his bare hand, giving me really hard smacks on my already sort butt. Although he was younger than me, Scott was actually about the same size and since he was on the varsity baseball team, he was in pretty good shape. After a few minutes of spanking, I guess I was not hopping around enough for them so Dave told Scott to use his belt. Scott said, okay, and unbuckled his belt and slipped it off. Unfortunately for me, Scott's belt was heavier than Dave's. It was on old worn out brown belt. Scott was also in a lot better shape and stronger than Dave. When he started whipping me with his belt, it really hurt and it only took about six strokes before I was jumping around and asking them to let me up. Scott didn't want to stop and kept whipping away. After Scott had given me maybe twenty strokes with his belt, I started crying a little bit, along with squirming around on Scott's lap real good. After about fifteen more licks, Dave finally grabbed his arm and told him to stop. Then they let me get up but told me to stand there in my underwear until they decided what to do next.
After about ten minutes, Dave and Scott whispered to each other, discussing apparently whether they were done with me. I could see Dave was torn between getting revenge for all the times I had picked on him and feeling some brotherly compassion. After conferring, Dave told me to come over.
"Well, we voted and we decided you haven't really learned your lesson yet." Saying that, he sat on the couch and pulled me over his lap. Dave very carefully positioned me so I was right past his right leg, so his hand would fall right on my butt when he spanked me. To my surprise, Dave reached out and pulled my jockey shorts back so my bare rear was exposed. With that, he began spanking me with his open hand. While that normally woudnlt hurt too much, with my already sore butt it only took a few whacks before I was bouncing on his knees begging him to stop. Dave sort of ignored my pleas, and kept spanking for a good long time. Finally, he stopped and pulled my shorts back up for me.
"Okay, Scott," Dave said, "here's your last shot".
Scott sort of snickered and picked up his belt again, which was still lying on the couch. He told me to come around and bend over the arm of the couch. I had heard from his conversations with Dave that this was how his dad whipped him. Once I was over the arm of the couch, Scott took his belt and started laying into me again, giving me even harder strokes than he had when I was over his knee, since he had better leverage standing in the open. It hurt a heck of a lot more than Dave's whipping or spanking and I was blubbering pretty good by the time Scott had finished his thirty or so swats. Once again, he didn't stop on his own but Dave told him it was enough.
They told me I could get up and get dressed. I did but I never played Dave's trumpet again. Even seeing Dave with it in the future made me cringe.