My younger brother Mike had always expected (really wanted?) to be the first to experience dad’s razor strop. After the mill incident, he was about to find out.
Dad brought Mike home from the police station where he and his 3 buddies had been taken after being picked up for vandalizing an old mill in Claremont, NH. Mike also had received the maximum 6 licks with the Police strap, with dad’s approval, prior to being released to dad and home. Mom was fixing supper at the time they appeared. I was doing homework in my room. Our younger brothers were watching TV. Everything stopped when Dad and Mike appeared. Dad calmly told Mike to go to his room and to get cleaned up for supper and to get his homework started.
On the way home from the Police Station, dad did tell Mike, however, that in spite of the licking he’d gotten with the police strap at the Police Station, that Mike, was going to get a licking before bed that night. For Mike…something to think about coming as it would back-to-back with the licking he’d gotten at the police station.
As we were finishing supper dad told Mike to get to his room to finish his homework. He told Mike that he’d be up to visit at 8pm with “Mr. Imp”, dad’s nickname for his razor strop. Looking pretty down, Mike complied and headed to the bedroom I shared with him.
When 8pm came around dad came in from the garage where he’d been working on the car. He hung up his jacket and hat. He looked at his watch and took a deep breath. He told me and the younger two brothers to take a seat back at the kitchen table so that we would all hopefully learn a useful lesson from clearly hearing the licking Mike was about to get.
Dad disappeared down the hall, pausing on his way to Mike’s room to reach inside the bathroom to retrieve his razor strop. He paused a moment at the bedroom door and then entered. Back in the kitchen we sat waiting quietly for what was coming next.
We heard Dad and Mike’s voices very briefly…followed by a few moments of total quiet.
Then the first loud crack of the strop’s leather against Mike’s bottom echoed from down the hall, followed instantaneously by a loud howling from Mike, then loud sobbing, just long enough for a second loud crack of leather…howling and sobbing. And so it went until, in retrospect, about 15 licks had been delivered.
The loud sobbing continued as dad opened the bedroom door and emerged. He returned to the kitchen where we all sat, crying for poor Mike. Dad came to sit with us at the table reassuring us the Mike would be OK after a good long cry and that he hoped never having to repeat what had just happened to Mike or any of us. Dad also assured us that he would be subject to the same if we gave him good cause and ignored too many warnings about bad behaviors.
After the “lights out” time in our bedroom later that night, I asked Mike how dad had delivered his licking. It was a standard over-the-knee event, where Mike had his hips flexed with legs hanging over dad’s right knee, with dad pinning him belly down across his lap, wrapping his left arm around Mike’s mid-torso. This positioned Mike in such a way that his butt was totally available for the strop, with no hope of using his hands to interfere with the licks which were delivered to the seat of his jeans stretched tight against his butt due to his bent position.
“It hurt way more wicked than I had imagined. It was just like the licking I got from the cops 3 hours earlier, because they had one cop hold me bent over the end of a table while another cop used the police strap on the tight jeans covering my butt. They made this big thing out of making sure my jeans were stretched as tight as possible on my butt before starting the licking.”
“Sounds really bad, Mike.”
“It was, but I also can’t imagine how much worse it would be to get a licking in just my underpants, or even bare butt like all the Bergeron boys (our neighbors 2 doors down) get it. Ever wonder if dad got bare butt lickings from grand-dad? I bet he did.” We didn't expect to every learn the answer to that question, but then we did.
Mike seemed to soon forget his Mill vandalism lickings and was already shortly fantasizing about more lickings to come. I did the same thing after “Mr. Imp” first met my butt I guess it was a couple months later.
These behaviors followed both Mike and me into lickings we got as adults with adult spanking partners, the licking no sooner over, and we wanted still more. I still wonder what drives that behavior.
Before long, in our late pre-teens, “Mr. Imp” would soon be “visiting” the seat of our underpants, with no protection of jeans, and with more licks than we received as younger kids. Dad never went to bare butt with us, but skimpy white cotton underpants were not much better.