Bottom Raised For The BeltWhenever I had committed the childhood equivalent of a felony and needed the ultimate consequence, I'd be sent to my room to wait for the strap or belt. After mom or dad arrived, I'd be lectured briefly and made to explain why I was being whipped. Then I was bared and the pillows stacked in the middle of my bed. Over I went and soon i felt the leather against my skin. "Are you ready, young man," I was asked. "Yes, ma'am/sir," I answered and a few seconds later what sounded like a gunshot rang out as a line of fire exploded on my bottom.
I got my age in strokes but could earn more if I resisted too long. Mom and dad didn't have all night to wait, so they wanted to get it over with as much as me. After my whipping, mom would sometimes rub lotion on my skin and she usually hugged me but dad would put his belt back on and tell me to get dressed and stay out of trouble. I didn't get the belt often, but when I did it was very effective.