Taught A Lesson By Ken C
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"You're so sprung little brother, there's no way known you'll be able to talk your way out of this one" my sister excitedly said while her hand on top of my head pushed downwards as she held me down on the floor of her bedroom. "Mooommm" she yelled out, "can you come here for a moment there's something I need to show you".
Momentarily I heard fast walking footsteps approaching the room and as the noise stopped, my sister eased her hand off of my head just enough for me to look up and see my mother's face looking down at me. She was actually smiling and giggling and I heard my sister start up giggling as well.
Finally, "It's priceless isn't it mom" my sister snidely said. "It thinks it's a girl the worthless little shit", before grabbing my hair and painfully pulling it until I was able to stand up beside her. "I'm fed up with the little shit invading my privacy and trying on my things mom. It doesn't seem to matter to you that he's stolen half of my knickers over the years and when I tell you about it you simply say he's still too young to understand what he's doing, as if it doesn't matter. Well I've had enough of the little shit's fetish mom and this time I'm telling dad about it and to hell with the consequences".
Normally whenever I was caught wearing my sister's clothes, mom would take me into her bedroom, make me take them all off and then strongly chastise me for what I'd done and order me to my room as well as grounding me for a week, with no computer privileges, no going out on weekends with my friends and having to stay home and read my text books.
This time however, that scenario wasn't going to be played out again. Instead Mom told me to strip there and then infront of my sister and her, and then when I was naked she ordered me to kneel down on the floor with my body over the bed and before I knew it my sister was standing on the other side of the bed infront of me and again holding the back of my and pushing it down into the bedspread, before I felt a stinging pain on my butt cheeks again, again and again. My arse soon felt like it was on fire each time the explosion happened, and with each new explosion of pain I could hear my mom's voice slightly grunt and then a deep inhale before fractionally after a new explosion of pain.
After about a minute of this, I was howling like a banshee and crying a river of tears before I felt my sister's hand pull my hair and making me look up at her. "If you think this is bad you little shit, wait till dad gets through with you" she told me before mom told me I could go back to my room and get some clothes on and stay there till teatime. I did and had to contend with my butt cheeks feeling like they were burning as my undies and shorts kept them warm.
I tried lying on my side on the bed and reading a comic book to keep me from thinking about what might happen when dad was told about me. It seemed to work a bit, then the bedroom door opened and dad strode in holding a thick black belt with silver studs on one side of it and telling me to strip and lie down on the bed face down.
"Oh fuck" I thought, terrified at what was going to happen. Dad had occasionally shown the strap dangling in his hand and warning me when I'd been naughty, that the next time I was he'd use it on me. Always, though it only needed a few well-placed spanks to enforce punishment. In the past the mere sight and thought of "Mr Strap" always made me change my ways for a while until everything had blown over. He was the ultimate bogey man with those rows of steel studs.
"Mother a moment of your time if you please" dad called out, and I soon heard footsteps come up and stop, before turning my head around just enough to see mom and my sister beside her, standing at my bedroom entrance. "Susan you count aloud for me and let me know how many times I strap your brother please". This time I knew I was really going to pay for all of my mistakes...in spades.
I'd never heard the whistling sound of leather moving rapidly through the air before until I felt my butt cheeks being pushed down onto the bed and almost at the same time feeling as if they'd been burnt by a flame thrower. My loud squeal then screaming at dad to stop, only faintly allowed me to hear my sister's strangled voice saying "one". The sound of whistling again and my mind now comprehending a new sound of stiff leather impacting on something softer, heralded a new burst of flaming pain that had me still squealing although now also begging at dad to stop. My sister's voice was now frightened as she said "two". By the time she said "four" she was pleading with dad to stop as well. When I waited to hear her voice after the next stroke, it was my mom who said "five" as my sister was crying too much to speak. I was now simply screaming and sobbing hysterically, yet still face down on the bed, the red hot pain in my butt cheeks impossible to describe.
Not hearing the expected whistling sound again had me praying it was all over and I might survive. However dad finally crushed those thoughts when he spoke again. "None of this should ever have needed to happen if both my daughter and my wife had been honest, instead of hiding the problem from me in the first place. This next and final stroke is to remind both of you as well as my son, to never try and hide bad behaviour from me ever again". Mom tried to intervene on my behalf to be rudely told by dad "YOU hid his bad behaviour from me Mother and you agreed to six of the best, so the sixth WILL BE the best of all. As for you Susan, you're just as much to blame as your mother, and so you're in part responsible for number six. Son, turn your head sideways for a moment and look".
I did and saw dad turn the whip the other way with the rows of studs now prominently showing. I turned my head away rapidly and as far into the bedspread as possible, imagining that somehow this might help me.
My mom's strangled gasp sounding at the same time as me hearing the whistling sound (although somewhat different than before) told me I'd be sorry, before... whuuumpff!!
And my flesh felt as if it was being ripped from my arse.
My scream sounded so primitive to hear, the pain was that incredibly intense. I felt rather than saw the strap being carefully eased out of me butt with dad seeming to take care trying to not tear my already torn flesh more than was necessary. I could hear Susan screaming insanely as mom's voice tried to calm her. My bladder then let go and I helplessly pissed and pooed myself, the smell of which added to my misery, before I fainted.
Later on I learned that even trying to get the metal studs out of where they were partially imbedded in my soft flesh meant tearing the skin punctures that little bit more. It didn't help that I was unconsciously still thrashing around either. Dad was needlessly telling me to stop moving around, even though my mind and body weren't listening. I did wake just enough to feel the far left said of my buttocks being held underneath and the last tearing apart, before I lapsed back into unconsciousness the pain was so intense.
If I'd been awake to see, I'd have seen the straps silver metal studs were coated with my blood and bits of my flesh, so thank god I was unconscious. When I finally did come to, I felt intense heat in my butt cheeks but also a warmth damp on the quilt under me, which a quick movement of my hand saw it smeared with my blood. Dad then held out the strap to show me, the silver metal studs bloodied as well as bits of my flesh, all to remind me to never misbehave again.
Dad then knelt down beside me and began applying an oily slick like substance over my flesh torn butt cheeks, which also managed to partially ooze down between my arse crack and balls onto the bedspread. It actually felt quite cold and dad told me it included a powerful anaesthetic solution in it as well an antiseptic which helped to mask the stinging of the antiseptic.
After about an hour he and mom managed to get me standing up straight, where I saw the blood and flesh stained bedcover was now completely ruined as was the bedding underneath it I guessed. Dad guided me slowly outside to the bathroom, while mom began stripping my bed. An hour later I found myself again face down on my bed except this time lying on towels to soak up any blood over a large sheet of plastic. I hadn't seen my sister since hearing the sixth stroke whistling down on to me and inquiring of mom was told Susan was in bed asleep after taking a tablet.
Eventually dad and mom decided that instead of phoning for an ambulance for me, I'd get the same tablet to make it through the night while my body started its recovery. The doctors didn't need to know about my disciplining did they?