The Belt Or Strop?

I grew up in this country I was born in. My community was small and several generations did our family span. I did not come from the wrong side of the tracks and wasn't born with a silver spoon in my mouth. I am the eldest of my brothers who grew in my hand me downs. Public school, solid "christian" training with many activities. A small town heir apparent I was growing up in the early 50's.

There was not a alcohol, drugs or abandonment issues. Just the opposite. I was never hungry, naked, on the streets or left unloved. I was surrounded with the nourishing of family members. We ate together as family and had many family outings. When discipline was needed, Dad was the one to apply. A slap in the face, a foot in the buttocks. a wailing of what was handy from a hose, board, limb or the choice of leather belt or the razor strop that was hanging in the closet,

It was a frightening sight that just hang there over the years. If my brothers and I were given the choice, the Razor Stop always was not our choice. We all were over time were disciplined, whether it was justified then or in today's view, it was criminal. Then it was not called abuse but child discipline. I did not go to school with black and blue visible signs. The discipline was quick and often in front of non family sight.

It was in my 5 Th grade of education I made the choice, My activity created the scenario I enlisted my younger brothers in, They became my cohorts to and my last experience we call today as shop lifting. As is, it wasn't the dollar value but how I did it and with whom. Our childhood crime was discovered at the checkout. Of course we did nothing and it wasn't't us, your sons and the brothers knew nothing between ourselves. As our parents with boys in tow are escorted into the chambers of the unknown, a fear was gnawing away inside I knew not. The brothers just were glad to get out of there as they certainly were about to purchase a boxed item the was tampered with by others or wrongfully packaged at the assembly.

The error of our ways was justified with price adjustment as we made a hastily departure to our home. The very home we built as family. As we entered, I tried to make a retreat to our bedrooms but we were stopped with the very words that rerouted the boys to the stairs that lead to the cellar. They were sturdy, no creeks, no missing boards and wide for two. As we passed the two hanging instruments of leather, I grabbed both of them. What I am about to do, I wasn't certain of but I had to make it right.

As the familiar steps we had heard so often, Dad stopped were the belts were not and hurried to ask for them now. Our fears grew into a trio of pleas and denials. We protected each other until I asked Dad to stop for the whole truth. I began for my brothers to be sparred as I told the whole truth and left no detail out. As I placed the truth before our Dad, I told my baby brother to find the leather belt and the razor strop were I placed them. In my quivering, my tears, Dad grabbed the leather and asked which I choose.

I asked for no punishment to my brothers and asked for a promise. The time was at hand and I began to remove my shoes and pants. As I leaned to the support column for customary position, I uttered the words as I glanced at my brothers, "the strop"; The horrific look they had but I seen not the face of my Dad as he surely was surprised. I prepared myself for the first of several to my bare buttocks. Anticipation, yea that was the word my friend taught me about the razor strop his Dad used on him. Anticipation of the contact.

I heard the air groan in my anticipation. I jumped with the lash and cried out but did not flee. I jumped again and cried out but it did not hurt as I was lead to believe. The thin leather vs the wide strop was true as my friend say. It wasn't as painful but it hurt. I was being punished as my brothers looked on and I looked to them as I cried and yelled with a smile my Dad did not ever see that day and many more to come.

The leather belt lay hung in loneliness as my brothers, their elder brother switched to the horrible frightening image of the old Leather Razor Strop. From that day, my brothers and I have never gone back to the store or ever did a act of shoplifting. Both of our parents live and the brothers still laugh about the choice I, their big brother did for them over my pain leaping, crying and with a smile.

Seahorse2165 Seahorse2165
56-60
6 Responses Mar 7, 2010

wow I have felt the strap bare assed too. The willow switch stings like hell also

It is still in my mind how I was punished when I did something wrong. There wasn't other solution and when you decided to get out from your parents home you could do it in a very serious way.<br />
When it has happened it was what a very serious misbehaved and I deserved it.

M.... you have no idea how satisfying a goos strapping can be... and sexciting too... nothin quite like a good j/o session while heated cheeks...

Yes I think that I would rather enjoy a hard spanking with the strop.

Enjoy? No yet I've have certainly Earned a well needed trip back to the Woodshed for a Decent Belt or Razorstrap Spanking. Could really use a Good Firm Tanning of my Poor Bare Butt.

Oh yes. I can relate to to your story. What a familiar scenero to mine.

Well-deserved, and well-taken