The Strap

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Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!

Copyright 1985-2016 by the Flogmaster. All Rights Reserved. Free distribution via electronic medium (i.e. the internet or electronic BBS) is permitted as long as the text is _not_ modified and this copyright is included, but _no_ other form of publication is allowed without written permission. This document _may_ contain explicit material of an ADULT nature. ***READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!*** Anything offensive is your own problem. This story is for **entertainment** purposes only, and it does _not_ necessarily represent the viewpoint of the author or the electronic source where this was obtained. All characters are *fictional* -- any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.

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The Strap

(****, fmF, Severe, spankings)

An ancient leather strap reminisces about all the lovely bottoms it has roughly caressed over the generations. (Approximately 3,483 words. Originally published 1995-10.)

I feel so old. It has been years since I have caressed the bare buttocks of a young lass or lad. Four generations I have lived on this planet, and now I am old and useless, hung up to dry, dusty and forgotten.

My original master used to care for me daily, oiling me frequently and using me all the time. He had a large family, Mr. Jackson did, four boys and three girls, and all of them got the strap regularly.

His son Tom inherited me and he used me on his children. His daughter Ally took me and put me to use on her children, no doubt her fond memories of me playing a big part of that equation.

But today's generation, they don't care about such things. Discipline is being scolded, or the TV being turned off. I'm too old-fashioned of a solution for the modern family. And where has it got them?

Well, the oldest, Kelly, is about ready to be sent to juvenile hall. One more infraction, the judge said, and she's in. The fifteen-year-old boy, John Jr., is following in her footsteps. He comes out here to the garage and smokes. I see him all the time and boy, would I like to whip his butt! But I'm only a strap; what can I do?

The twins, Alice and Amy are only twelve, but the way they smart off to their mom makes me sick. She doesn't like it but her husband John won't say anything and she feels powerless. I bet she wouldn't feel so helpless with a thick leather strap like me in her hand. She'd have those girls yelping and apologizing in no time. Kids today just aren't as tough as those in my generation.

Why I remember giving Tom Jackson's ass *two* lickings in one day, once, many, many years ago. He got one after breakfast for failing to shut the gate after morning chores, and late that evening his father took him out to the barn for another when he found the boy with a stolen pocket knife. I was exhausted when we finished that whipping it was so long and so hard, and poor Tom's butt was practically skinless.

The next day Mr. Jackson made Tom take the pocket knife back to the store and apologize to Mr. Kruber, the store owner. He also had Tom take me with him, in case Mr. Kruber felt Tom needed another dose. Tom sure walked slowly that day, and he kept looking at me with a mixture of hate, fascination, and respect. I've seen that look many times. But when Mr. Kruber took Tom in the back room of the store and took down his pants and saw the raw blistered flesh he decided Tom had already learned his lesson.

Yes, those were the days. Scarcely a week went by when I wasn't used on somebody's behind, and those kids grew up straight and tall and respectful of adults and had wonderful marriages and lived long, happy lives. Today, it's a different story.

Take Ally, for instance. The pride of Tom's life, she was a beautiful girl, blonde hair, blue eyes, the delicate body of nymph; she had it all. I loved strapping her, stretching my long body to wrap around her creamy thighs and smack the pert, upturned bottom with my tip. She took it well, too, fidgeting and bawling but never rising or running away. She knew the value of discipline well, having learned its lesson many times.

But her husband, a jackass lawyer from Chicago, was very against corporal punishment. Those kids knew it, too, and did things at six and seven I'd have never thought possible. Well, needless to say, the marriage didn't last long. Nine years and Ally found herself on her own, with three rambunctious kids to raise. She had to get a job and found it more and more difficult to keep those kids in line.

I was still at Tom's (her father), at the time. One day she came into his house bawling like a child and wept at his knee. "I can't control them," she cried. "It's so frustrating. They won't listen to me at all. They tried to play Alan against me, saying he lets them do those naughty things. Oh, I just want to scream!"

Tom looked at her fondly and smiled. Without a word he stood and walked over to the kitchen hook where I had hung for over thirty years and handed me to Ally. Even though it had been over ten years since she had felt my sting her eyes went wide and the look of alarm that crossed her face was priceless. For about five seconds she looked like a teenage girl ready to be taken out and strapped, though her body was that of an attractive, thirty-two-year-old woman. Then her face cleared and I could see the memories flashing across those clear blue eyes. She was remembering all our sessions together, the times across her daddy's lap, the times in the bedroom where she'd lifted her skirt and dropped her panties to receive my sharp licks on her round rump. I swear I saw one hand go toward her backside, as though to protect it.

Tears gleamed in her eyes. "Oh, Daddy!" she exclaimed. "You still have the Family Strap!"

"Of course," he said smiling. "My father used it on me, I used it on you, and now it is your turn. It's yours now. Take it and use it prolifically. You do," he said with a sudden pause, eyes twinkling, "still remember how to use it, right? I could give you a refresher if you've forgotten..."

Dear Ally's pretty face turned a deep red and she stared at her father, hoping he was joking. She stood and rubbed her bottom in an exaggerated fashion. "No, I think I got more than my share growing up. I think I know how to use it properly."

She did too. After almost ten years of neglect I was suddenly in business again, oiled and limber, feeling young and frisky. I smacked those naughty bottoms with relish, eagerly awaiting the next appointment. Ally was a new woman, too. Tall and powerful and demanding, she now had a real threat to back up her commands. Those children didn't appreciate her enthusiasm nearly as much as she or I did.

Those were some good years. She put those kids back on the straight and narrow, and most of them turned out all right. I was never sadder than when she gave me to John. I had been unused for a few years and I looked forward to new bottoms to lick, but I was sad to move away from Ally. She and I had a special relationship.

Partly this was because she knew me intimately from both perspectives, giving and receiving, but mostly this was because of her charming and sensitive personality. She really *felt* things. She knew what I felt like smacking against bare skin but that didn't stop her from making her children bare their bottoms for my kiss. Sometimes I got the impression whipping her children was quite painful to her, though in a different way.

On that last day she came and took me off my hook and caressed me, looked at me, and then, to my supreme delight, lightly struck me across her posterior. She was older and her bottom was certainly more expansive and chubbier than I ever remembered, but I took delight in kissing her sharply right between the cheeks, pleased when I heard her gasp in surprise and pain. She looked at me with a great deal more respect after that, a slow smile coming to her lips. "Wow..." was all she said and I have no idea what she was thinking, but it must have been something sweet.

Her son John didn't like me. He never had. He was the oldest child and had resented it the most when his mother brought me home that spring day. He looked rather shocked when she gave me to him with a broad wink and I could tell he didn't get it at all. He wanted me out of sight, and buried me in a suitcase.

Later, I ended up out here, hanging on this peg in the garage, never once used. And now his kids are brats and hooligans. Even his wife, an airy, bitchy-richy sort of gal, could certainly use a nice strapping. I've often thought that's what she needed when she'd come out here to the garage with one of her lovers. They'd kiss and make love on the hood of one of the cars and I'd see those delicate thighs of hers and those subtle mounds of her bottom cheeks peeking out under her skirt and I'd long to just smack her soundly.

But old John was terrified of me and refused any corporal punishment, even when his mother practically ordered him to spank one of his naughty brats. He'd whine and come up with all sorts of excuses for their behavior and his reluctance, finally out and out saying that he wouldn't spank. I often wished his mother would give him a dose of me to whip him into shape and submission, but she didn't. It was his house; he was master.

There was one time when I got my hopes up I'd be used. It was about a year ago. Kelly had just turned fifteen and was blossoming into a real woman. She was tall and lanky and her figure was incredible, with full womanly breasts and a rump fit to please a king. She was also a terrible brat, smarting off to her parents and flaunting her disregard for their rules. Her arrogance was so great I don't think it was possible for an adult to have a conversation with her without having at least one impulse to slap her face.

During the summer the family decided to hold a garage sale. They came in one weekend and cleaned out the garage, throwing away junk and preparing stuff for sale. I hung on my strap and watched it all. At about noon, Kelly waltzed in, covered with make-up and nails and fancy hairdo. She was wearing a darling but daring mini-skirt that barely covered her rump and short white tank-top that did not succeed in concealing her midriff.

"I'm going out," she said nonchalantly.

"What!" screamed her dad. "You know today's the day to clean for the garage sale. Get your ass over here and help!"

The pretty girl looked at the rest of the family, dressed in junky clothes and covered with dust and grim and wrinkled her nose. "I'm not touching this stuff! It's filthy!"

"Well, you are not going out, young lady, and that's final! If you go out you are not coming back in, do you hear me? I've had about as much of your lip as I can take!"

Pouting, the girl sat on a semi-clean wooden box near me and watched the others. I could tell she was trying to calculate her chances of "getting away with it." I'd been watching kids do that for generations. The problem with Kelly was that she had no memories of a thick leather strap across her backside to shift the balance of behavior toward obedience. She got up to go, but decided to be sneaky, wandering around and pretending to be sorting things.

"What's this?" she'd say with disgust, pointing at some item. "Trash," someone would answer, and she'd order one of the twins to take it outside. In this way she "helped" for a half hour or so, occasionally glancing at her watch.

At one point my heart almost stopped (so to speak) when she picked me up off my hook. "What's this?" she asked, holding it up. (Imagine that, a teenager not knowing what a strap is for! What's this country coming to, anyway?)

Her dad looked up from his sorting and growled, "That's the leather strap your Grandmama used to thrash us kids with. She gave it to me to use on your bare bottoms and I have half a mind to take it out and use it across yours!"

Kelly gasped. "You mean she hit you with this?"

"Of course. A couple dozen strokes across your bare butt and you don't want to sit down the next day!"

"But that's outrageous! Couldn't you sue?"

"Sue? Child, if I'd tried to sue my Mom she would have whipped me four times as hard! Besides, in those days strapping was pretty common. If you'd gone to court to stop it the judge himself would probably have taken you across his knee!"

"Oh," said the teenage girl quietly, replacing me on my hook rather quickly. "Well I'm glad we live in *civilized* times."

I saw her father's eyes go up at this and a puzzled look cross his face. He didn't say anything but it was a half-hour later when everyone realized Kelly was gone. I could see he was upset and I caught him looking at me a couple of times. But he never did anything. I think he tried to ground her, but it did no good since she just ignored his rules away.

Now Kelly is sixteen and really in trouble. She's been caught shoplifting twice, and I saw her and her trashy friends exchanging marijuana. She dresses in the slutiest clothes, thin tiny things that bare more skin than bathing suits in my day. In my opinion she'd be more conservative going about nude, the way those skimpy outfits exaggerate her body parts. Put a size C breast into a size A cup and it's bound to look like a D, if not bigger. Same thing goes for her ass. I swear she wears panties two sizes too small. When she _wears_ panties, that is. What a tramp!

Life sure is boring. It's Saturday. John's gone golfing and his wife is still sleeping. The kids are off somewhere. The house is quiet and alone. I feel old.

Oh, there's the garage door going up. It's John coming back. Boy, he looks thoughtful today. Something must be bothering him. I've never seen him so determined. He even slammed the door.

He's back, this time dragging a sleepy nightgown-clad Eleanor. She scolding him and complaining, but he is insistent. Out in the garage he pushes her away from him and glares at her.

"I know what you've been doing," he says. "Don't try to hide it. Our marriage hasn't been much for years but you didn't have to sleep with Freddy!"

"What? How--"

"He let it slip, the idiot! Mentioned this gal he'd bonked, how she'd only do it in the dark. Well that got me thinking. I started putting two and two together and I confronted him and he admitted everything. I knew there'd been others, but Freddy? He's twenty pounds overweight and a *terrible* golfer!"

"John, I--"

"Shut up, bitch! This is *IT*, the *last*straw*." John stood to his full height and strode over to the wall where I hung and lifted me off the hook.

"I've been thinking about this for years but I always thought it was too cruel, but now I know Mom was right all along. Kids need a firm hand. Look what's happened to Kelly! People *need* consequences to their actions, they crave it. That's why Kelly taunts us so. I don't know why it took me so long to see it. She wants us to force her to obey but we just let her do her own thing. Without any external controls over her life she's forced to make all the decisions. It's our job as parents to make some of the decisions easy, like disobey and you get a taste of the Family Strap! Starting today that's the new rule around here, and to begin things, you are in for the licking of your life!"

With tremendous force John ripped off his wife's expensive nightgown, tearing it right down the middle. She stood naked in front of him, jaw dropped and hands attempting to shield herself. In an instant the big man had her bent across his left leg and began slapping her wiggling ass with me.

Her bottom wasn't that firm but it was shapely, and it had been so long that I was in heaven. It was bliss. I stung those fat cheeks as hard as I could, John's hard swings making it easy. I even got a few shots across the upper parts of her thighs, which really made her squeal, and one stroke between her legs that got me all wet.

It was a good, long strapping, not especially severe but very thorough, welting that bottom all over from the tops of her crack to mid-thigh. That stuffy bitch wouldn't be sitting comfortably for some time!

When John hung me on the wall I had never felt so much pleasure. The relief of so much tension, so many years of idleness and lust, of dreaming and memories. I was sated, but just barely, and could feel myself readying for more. I longed for Kelly and the others. Could this be true? Had John turned over a new leaf?

From the looks of his sobbing wife, rubbing her red buttocks and leaning against John and apologizing profusely, it appeared to be so. I'd never seen John so happy, almost ecstatic. He was thrilled with how effective his punishment had been, both the visual results on his wife's butt and with her new attitude. He kissed her and she kissed back passionately. In moments they were rolling on the ground and making love like rabbits. In all the years I'd known them I'd barely seen them kiss, so it was quite a shock to see them mauling each other like teenagers.

Speaking of teenagers, I can't forget dear Kelly. That evening when she came home her father took her to the garage and introduced me to her. It was glorious. Her face was ashen and she begged her father to reconsider. She promised improved behavior but he didn't believe her.

"This is what you want, Kelly, it's what you need," he said firmly.

"But I *don't* want it. It's going to hurt!" she wailed.

"Yes, but that will help you in the future. You'll have the memory of that pain to remind you to stay out of trouble."

Kelly obviously disagreed with her father's plan but she had no choice. She even tried to rebel slightly, but her father pushed her over the hood of the car and held her arms behind her back with his left hand. Her jeans and panties down around her ankles left her bottom naked and ready for me.

John lifted me high--all the way back to his right ear--and brought me down with a loud splat across Kelly's plump buttocks. She screamed and sobbed and struggled frantically. I had left a nice wide red stripe across her butt and it was quickly swelling and becoming a welt. It was beautiful and I quickly went to work creating as many as I could.

John didn't stop until Kelly's ass was blood-red and smoldering, stripes all the way down to the backs of her knees. She had long since ran out of tears and just lay there, bent across the car, buttocks quivering with each stroke, her moans and cries coming from deep inside her.

It was one of the hardest, most thorough whippings I'd ever done, and I've done a bunch. And it had it's desired effect, too. After the thrashing John left his daughter on the car (she was too exhausted to move) and fetched the rest of the family. When Kelly realized everyone was admiring her striped butt she tried to move but stopped when her father told her to stay in position. Weeping, she stood there so everyone could see her. She was humiliated, but she didn't want any more strapping.

Finally told her to get up and get dressed and hang me in my "place of honor" (his very words). "From now on," he said boldly, "everyone in this family is subject to the rules. There'll be no more grounding, no more withholding your allowance or forbidding you to watch TV. No, from now on you'll be out here, pants and underwear around your ankles, getting your ass soundly smacked by the Family Strap!" He waved his hand at me and the whole family looked at me with profound respect, especially Eleanor and Kelly.

Boy, I can't wait until tomorrow. And the next day. It looks like I'll be quite in demand for a while. Life is so exciting when you have a job you love!

The End

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