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This story is based on my own real life experiences as a boy growing up in England in the 1960’s.
Looking back I know, that although I hated getting corporal punishment, I always deserved it and it never
did me any harm. Maybe it even did me some good.
During my childhood it was an accepted part of life. Things have changed. In most countries it
is no longer acceptable to discipline children this way and may be considered abusive. I’m not suggesting
that children should be punished in this way now.
Dad’s strap was made from two strips of thick leather that had been stitched together.
It was about 30 inches long and just under 2 inches wide. It wasn’t a belt, it was a strap, made for the
purpose of punishing bottoms.
Through my younger years my mum was the only parent who spanked me. (See my story A very strict
mum. ) But when I was caught shoplifting at the age of 11 that changed. Dad decided I needed some serious
discipline from him. And from that time on whenever I had done something seriously wrong it was dad that
dealt with it.
The procedure was much the same each time. I had to wait in my room for dad to come home. He was
a loving father but also a firm believer in the need for corporal punishment. I had a really good relationship
with him. I’m not sure what felt worse, the feeling I had let him down or the anxiety about my impending
strapping. It was a horrible wait.
When I heard him arrive home my heart would leap into my mouth. It wouldn’t be long now. Soon I heard
him climbing the stairs and then he’d enter my room, dreaded strap in hand, closely followed by mum who
always watched when dad strapped me. Dad was a big strong man. He worked as a builders labourer. But he
was gentle too. He would quietly ask why I had done whatever it was I had done and say how much he felt
let down by it. He always made me feel so guilty (which I was) and ashamed.
But he would never let me off. As my father he believed it was his duty to deliver a punishment I
wouldn’t be likely to forget in any hurry. He felt it was down to him to make me want to change my ways.
Soon he was telling me to take my trousers and underpants off. He always made me take them right off.
Mum getting me to bare my bottom for a spanking was reasonably common and I was quite used to her seeing
me half naked, but doing this in front of dad always felt worse.
Dad always had me lay face down on my bed for the strap with my bottom raised slightly by him placing
2 pillows under my hips. Normally at this point I couldn’t bear to look and buried my face in the mattress
hoping it would help in some way. But then all I could think about was the cold air on my bare bottom
and it made me feel so exposed, unprotected and vulnerable.
I’d never see dad raise the strap over his shoulder, but as he did I always heard the end of the
strap strike his back. When I heard that sound I knew it was coming. It was just a second or two before
he lashed the strap hard across my waiting bottom. There was an almighty crack as the double thickness
leather landed on my bare skin. I felt the strength of the impact and then there was this searing pain
in a broad stripe across my bottom where the strap had landed. It felt as though the strap had torn a
layer of skin right off, that’s how much it stung.
My hands would fling to my poor bottom and grab my stinging cheeks. I’d yell out. I’d squeeze my
buttocks together or I would roll onto my side so my bottom faced the wall to get it out of harm’s way.
(Of course this meant my developing young genitalia was in full view of both parents, but at that moment
my bottom was hurting too much for that thought to even cross my mind.) Normally even one whack would
see tears forming in my eyes.
Dad always gave me a few seconds to get over each whack. But all too soon, and always before I was
ready, he was instructing me to get back into position. I dare not keep him waiting. I’d get my poor bottom,
now adorned with a dark red 2-inch-wide line across it back into position and back into the firing line.
Then once again the strap would slap on dad’s back as he laid it back across his shoulder and after a
few seconds the next one would land, slightly overlapping the first stroke but also finding fresh area
of bottom to scorch and redden. The second or third stroke would always have me bawling.
He never told me how many I was getting. I always got at least six but with the amount of pain coming
from my bottom I was rarely able to keep count. After what I thought was the sixth whack I was always
hoping that I’d just had my last one, so each time he told me to get back into position from then on was
like a dagger to the heart. Again and again I’d position my bare bottom up in the air over those pillows
for another dreaded whack of that strap.
As my age increased the number of whacks dad gave me increased too. At 11 I think the most I got
was eight; I had ten whacks at most age 12; but at 13 I once got what I think was 15 whacks for stealing.
I never got less than ten whacks from age 14 on and the most I ever got was somewhere between 18 –
20. I last had the strap at age 17. As I’ve said, it was impossible to keep count as I was mostly concerned
about my poor young bottom, so these figures are just a rough guide to what I actually received.
When the strapping was over dad always told me to stand and face him while he reminded me I’d get
more of the same unless I changed my ways. Then he would leave the room and I’d flop back face down on
my bed, rubbing my bottom, and crying my eyes out. I hated the strap, it hurt so much. But I never hated
dad. It was a horrible punishment but I knew I had deserved what he’d given me and I respected him. I
didn’t get it often, maybe 3 to 5 times each year, but when I did get it across my bare bottom, it sure
did an outstanding job. To this day I can clearly remember every detail and will never forget just how
terribly painful it was every time dad’s strap whipped down across my naked and unprotected rear.

Copyright on this story text belongs at all times to the original author only, whether stated explicitly
in the text or not. The original date of posting to the MMSA was: 01 Oct 2016

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The contents of this story archive may not reflect the views or opinions of the site owners, who most certainly DO NOT sanction ANY abuse of children.
copyright © 2005-2022 admin ·AT· malespank.net

The contents of this story archive may not reflect the views or opinions of the site owners, who most certainly DO NOT sanction ANY abuse of children.
copyright © 2005-2022 admin ·AT· malespank.net

The contents of this story archive may not reflect the views or opinions of the site owners, who most certainly DO NOT sanction ANY abuse of children.
copyright © 2005-2022 admin ·AT· malespank.net

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