by Louis Woodley
"Jonathan, can you please come down here and help me for a minute?"
"Be right there!" I was just checking my email up in my room, so I closed out and went downstairs to see what she needed.
It was as I was almost to the den that I heard my sister Kelsey begging, "Mom, don't... please don't. I'm sorry!" Obviously Genius was in some kind of trouble with Mom but I didn't understand why that had anything to do with me.
When I entered the den I could tell that Mom was really pissed off, because she practically vibrates when she's all wound up. On the other hand, Kelsey looked like she wanted to be anywhere but here and she sure wasn't happy to see me.
I came home from college for fall break and those two have been going at it like cats and dogs the whole time. It's mostly because my sister keeps doing stupid stuff like coming home late and not answering her phone. It's almost like she's going out of her way to irritate Mom. I don't know if she's just putting on a show for my benefit or if this is what it's like all the time now that I'm not here as a buffer between them. Apparently my 15 year old sister poked the bear one time too many.
Whatever is going on now, Kelsey obviously doesn't want me to be a part of. "Mom, please, you don't need Jonathan..." I was still wondering what they needed me for.
Mom was the one who provided the answer. "Your sister has been having some real problems with her behavior lately, as you've no doubt witnessed, and I've warned her what was going to happen if she didn't knock it off. Well I just caught her in a couple of bold-faced lies about where she's been and who she was with. So now it's time to pay the piper for lying. But she's also been really uncooperative lately when she needs her fanny dusted; she kicks and carries on like a little kid. So I want you to sit on the couch and hold your sister's hands to keep her in place so I can roast her rear end with the strap."
Yep, Mom really was pissed. Spankings still happened around here (do you know how humiliating it is to be 19 and still have to go over your mother's lap?), but going nuclear with her strap was a once-in-a-blue-moon occurrence reserved for our worst offenses. And telling lies definitely qualified.
Kelsey's face went white when she heard the magic word 'strap' even though she had to know it was coming. No wonder she looked scared and didn't want me anywhere near her. She started her groveling campaign again, apologizing, begging for Mom not to whip her, or at the very least to send me away. Mom said she'd be glad to send me away back upstairs to bring her the strap for my sister's rear end.
She also said that my latching onto her hands would keep her in place for the butt whipping she richly deserved, and could have been avoided if she'd just been honest about what she'd been doing. What she wanted no longer mattered the moment she chose to lie, so I was now officially a part of the process.
I could hardly blame Kelsey. Neither of us had ever been present for the other's punishment so this was uncharted territory for all of us. On those occasions where we'd earned joint spankings she'd either dealt with us individually in our own rooms or made one of us wait in the kitchen while the other got walloped in the den (with a death threat if you got caught peeking).
If I was a 15 year old girl I wouldn't want my 19 year old brother in the same room with me. I didn't particularly want to be there myself, but Mom pays my tuition so I've got to support her decision.
I had zero interest in seeing Kelsey's naked butt. And her butt was definitely going to be naked, because every licking we ever got was delivered that way and I couldn't imagine Mom changing the process now. If anything, having me participate was adding an extra dose of humiliation for my sister.
But the bright side (if there was one) for Kelsey was that I'd be practically nose-to-nose with her and wouldn't be able to see her butt if I wanted to. I'd see her face scrunched up and she'd probably be screaming in my ear (and possibly dripping tears on me) but that would be about it.
Of course, behind her I'd get to see Mom going on the war path with the strap, which would be a new experience for me. You never get to see it coming when you're on the receiving end (although there's a slight whistling sound it makes as she's swinging it so you get a very short heads-up that it's on its way).
And, speaking of the strap, Mom was giving me the 'I told you to do something so why haven't you done it yet?' look. Not wanting to get on her bad side, and unable to save Kelsey even if I wanted to, I set off to grab the thick leather strap that would soon have her howling.
You'd think that it would be easier to handle the strap when you know it isn't going to be used on your ass, but I was still holding it carefully like it could bite me as I brought it back downstairs to Mom. She thanked me, but Kelsey didn't seem so appreciative.
But I guess that part of that was due to the fact that, while I was gone, her jeans and underwear hand disappeared and she was strategically crossing her hands below her waist. Mom told her to get over the couch and I got a brief flash of her white hiney as she scooted into position; it wasn't going to be white for much longer.
Once she got settled Mom had me sit on the couch and take her hands. I had to play around a bit to figure out the best way to do it without hurting her. In the end I had her lock her hands around my wrists; if they came loose in a break for freedom then I'd tether her down, but for now she could squeeze them when the pain got bad (which we both knew was going to happen).
I heard the tell-tale flicking sound as Kelsey's face scrunched up; Mom always gives us a light tap just to make sure that her aim is true before she starts whaling away on your butt. Kelsey felt it and knew what she was going to feel next would hurt a lot worse. She took a deep breath and re-tightened her grip on my wrists. Any second now...
I could see the strap raised out of the corner of my eye and I knew it was on its way down.
CRACK!
Kelsey's mouth and eyes both flew silently open in shock; you always forget how much it's going to hurt until that first blow sucks your breath away.
The one thing that we know about Mom's strappings (which is both good and bad) is that she always follows the exact same pattern. It's always the same number of strokes in the same locations in the same order. So I don't know how she decided that 30 strokes from the strap was the magic number; it's just what we know we can expect. And while the first ones hurt, they get progressively worse as she goes along.
So, without even being able to see, I know that the first wallop landed on Kelsey's right butt cheek, as will the next four strokes. Mom will get that area nice and sore before moving on to the next target.
Kelsey's eyes scrunched closed again on the second whack; her head dipped down and back up again on the third and she was starting to suck her breath in through her clenched teeth and nose after the fourth. Her whole body tightened up on the fifth; you could tell that Mom was starting to get through to her because her eyes closed again and she made her first grunt of pain.
Then Mom turned her attention to my sister's left butt cheek. I could see her moving; she switches over to a backhand swing when she's attacking your left side. She might not be quite as accurate but she gets just as much power behind it (believe me!). The first stroke generated a grimace on Kelsey's face and a grunt.
"Oh!" Kelsey said, and blew her breath out like she was trying to blow out a candle after the second blow. From there her resolve began to slip. The next several strokes led to increased squeezing of my wrists, along with more vocal 'ows' and 'ouches'. On the 10th swat her mouth opened up in pain wide enough that I could see the fillings in her teeth.
I could see her eyes fluttering as tears started to form in the corners, but we were still only a third of the way through and it was only going to get worse from here. I know I probably would look the same right about now (although hopefully Kelsey will never have a chance to see me in that position). I whispered "Hang in there" as we made brief eye contact.
But then the first assault on her right sit spot left her huffing and puffing like the Big Bad Wolf. Mom loves having us over the couch because it fully exposes the lower parts of our backsides where she can really fry them good. Sitting down comfortably after a Mom strapping is impossible. Boy do I know...
The biggest mistake I've ever made was mouthing off to her one morning when I was 11 or 12. Not only did she blister my butt with stripes, I had to ride on our bumpy school bus and then try to sit all day at my uncomfortable wooden desk.
My teacher wound up sending home a note saying that I kept squirming around all day long and wouldn't sit still. Mom's normal rule was that if you got in trouble at school you'd get a licking at home. But I'd rather have taken a second licking than what she did to me.
To make my humiliation complete, she wrote a note back to my teacher and made me read her response. I begged her not to, but she said that she would contact my teacher to make sure I delivered it. If I didn't there was going to be another strapping in my future, and then she'd walk me into school herself and make me explain why I hadn't sat still that day.
I wanted to die handing it over and I couldn't look my teacher in the eye for days afterwards. Years later I can still pretty much remember that letter verbatim:
Mrs. Hooker,
Thank you for your message concerning Jonathan's disruptive behavior in class today. I'm afraid that he was a very rude and disrespectful boy this morning, so I was forced to give him a very thorough whipping before school. I imagine that he did have difficulty sitting still because his bottom was as red as a fire engine before he pulled his pants back up. Please advise me if his behavior remains problematic, because he is well aware of what will happen to his rear end if he has another note sent home
Sincerely, Martha Ellis.
So you can just imagine how much I enjoyed handing that message over to my teacher...
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