“John, Jenny, it’s time,” called their mother Claire not long after dinner. She’d watched an episode of the serial she liked then re-read their reports.

Friday night was family discipline night when parents reviewed performance and progress for the week, then applied the discipline required for improvement.

The mantra, ‘We must be the best we can be‘ was backed up every Friday night within the family. That their Sunday night meant a visit by their Discipline Supervisor was not forgotten. Getting more on top of a Friday night discipline was something everyone hated and added extra incentive.

Shaking her head. ‘Disappointing. So disappointing,’ she thought. And worrying too.

She’d had a cup of coffee in the kitchen as she considered her next action. This needed to be nipped in the bud but she knew she was late, their behavior and results had dropped badly and now it was on their pages and she would be in trouble too come Sunday night. The Discipline Supervisor would be sure she was paying a price on Sunday night for this for sure.

But she needed to start sometime, and there was no time better than now. Well, last month would have been better, she wouldn’t be in this trouble if she’d done something about it then.

Things had to change and now she was sure her own performance would be judged badly and she knew that would happen on a parenting supervision review. On Sunday night. Two nights away it was going to be her turn.

Both John and Jenny shot down the stairs and into the lounge room where family discipline was dispensed. Not hearing their mother or being slow usually meant she came up the stairs, into their room and that meant an on the spot discipline happened. They knew to pay attention and respond immediately as a pants down laying on the bed strapping really did set their rears on fire.

“John, you got three black marks and Jenny two. Plus your school results have not been good, not good at at all. Plus, this week I’ve down voted you both three times so I think we’ll clear the sheet right now. Arrange the chair John, Jenny fetch the family strap from my room please. You know where it is.”

Jenny turned to fetch the dreaded family strap, but their mother added loudly so she couldn’t miss it, “John, I think your problem is that you’re not focusing enough on your studies and you spend too much time at night with your hands where they shouldn’t be, on the phone and elsewhere I’m sure. I think three days of denial is in order, and Jenny, I think you need the same. Both of you, put your denial restraint belts and cuffs on before bed.”

“Yes mum,” they both said, and neither was going to argue. They’d both argued with their mum over denial time in the past and each time their mum had used the same and simple solution. Arguing with parents always got a black mark on their reports and that caused extras on a Friday discipline night and it was usually more than one set of six.

Complaining or arguing also meant denial time was increased to a week and they were really annoying. For both arguing and complaining they usually got an additional six of the best strapping every night just before bed as well as denial and that was difficult to say the least. They’d be sleeping on their fronts in denial every night for the week with their hands restrained behind their backs and their butts would be on fire from the strapping. They couldn’t rub their butts or move their hands round their fronts to soothe somewhere else if the heat from the strapping made them needy, which it usually did. It was called denial for a good reason.

It was different after a Friday night strapping. They usually had an hour or two before they were put in denial and hence the sting abated slightly. That time, small though it was, made all the difference. When they got extra from complaining just before bed it seemed to sting and be so much hotter and difficult.

The only option they had was best behavior. They knew to do the dishes and clean up so carefully. Any kind of excuse on discipline night just multiplied what they got. Not only that, they got such a telling off that it was demeaning and embarrassing.

But of course it all got posted on their Family Pages for the whole world to see. If they got extra for complaining then their friends saw it and commented at school. Teachers would see it and comment. People down the street they knew, places they worked part time at would all comment about the extras. To say it was demeaning was the understatement of the century.

Fetching The Strap

Jenny exited the lounge room then headed up the stairs, reluctantly.

Each step brought her one step closer to the family strap, each step made it more inevitable. With each step she anticipated holding that strap in her hands.

Holding the family strap had become consuming these last few months. Now she couldn’t resist, standing there holding the family strap, running it through her hands. It was almost impossible not to fondle it. She held the handle in her right hand then ran her left hand slowly down the handle feeling the leather, along the strap, then over the last third of the length with the twin tails that gave it such a bite. She fondled the strap just like her mom did, both of them running it through their hands the same way.

She knew from all her friends that a family strap was normal in houses now. None of her friends didn’t have one at home. The strap usually hung in the parents rooms in their walk in robes or behind a door. She’d heard of some parents who claimed the strap was barbaric but she’d also heard that their children had been ostracized by everyone.

Oh how she wanted a boyfriend right now. Some mornings she woke so needy. The thought of a sleep over and how her boyfriend would be subject to the same discipline she and John were was disquieting. Then the thought of her sleeping over at his house and being subject to discipline there. Now that was even more unsettling. Having to bend and pull down her knickers for the strap or the cane in front of strangers was a strange thought.

She ran the strap through her hands again. Time was getting on but she couldn’t resist standing and feeling the strap.

Yet again, she ran her hand along the leather and out of nowhere wondered what it would feel like to apply it to a bent bottom. She had a momentary image of herself with this in her hand, clenched hard, applying it to John’s bent butt, bringing up a red band that spread and showed the crimson streaks from the twin tails.

She imagined how it would proceed; she’d be extending her arm with the strap at the end and tapping it on Johns butt cheek to get her range. She’s seen her mom do this so many times, and been the recipient more times than she could count. It did serve to focus the attention. She knew the feel of the strap laying on her bent bottom, knew the feel of it flicked in the air then it cracking down in a slightly stinging stroke, a ranging stroke. She imagined doing this, the strap under her control as she watched the leather flicking up then down. This whole thing, this tapping of the bottom in front of her was almost as if the strap made the bottom aware of what was happening, just before lashing it properly, letting the bottom know what was to come.

Running her hand along the leather, she imagined putting it way back behind her, swiveling her shoulders away from the bent naked butt in front of her. Just like he mom did. Then she’d bring her arm around and uncoil her shoulders to make the twin tails swish through the air and land flat on the butt in a ‘splaat’ that cracked and echoed through the house.

Damn. The whole mental image was doing her head in. Then she felt it, a warm tingle between her legs she normally only felt when the lights went out, she was in bed, and her fingers were dancing around her front.

Dammit times infinity. Not that she’d be doing it tonight, her mother was going to put them both in denial for a few nights so no naughty business for them.

“JENNY,” called her mother. “Come down this instant or else.”

She knew what the ‘or else’ meant. Usually a dozen. An extra dozen on top of what she was going to get anyway.

Bend For The Strap

Meanwhile, back in the lounge after Jenny went up the stairs, John turned then got the tall backed chair from the dining room table and put it into the middle of the lounge.

“You first,” his mother said so he dropped his trousers, pushed down his briefs as he stood behind the chair. Bending forward he lifted his long school shirt so it was clear of his bottom, then when he was fully bent over, he reached down and gripped the chair seat.

The cool air on his bottom was ominous. Damn. It was always like this, bent, bared, waiting for Jenny to fetch the strap. Worst of all, for the last two years he’d been having erections in this position while he waited. What was it with baring his butt in preparation for the strap?

Now, every time he bent he found himself hardening up so he always quickly bent to hide it against the chair. A few times his mum had told him to rise half way through his strapping so as to check his state. Luckily every time it had gone down when his butt was stinging madly.

The problem was that it returned when he watched his sister getting the strap. Every damn time the sight of his mum wielding that damned leather strap hardened him up and his mother always caught him with the erection, suggesting another strapping was in order.

He and his mother didn’t have long to wait. Jenny returned with the strap then handed it to his mom. Lifting slightly and looking to his left, he saw his mom hold the strap in both hands and run her hand along the length of the tails, feeling them. She was almost fondling the leather, appreciating it, not that he’d appreciate it the way she was going to use it.

She always did that, and he wondered why. He’d never touched the thing, and quite the opposite, it always touched him right where he didn’t want it to.

“Bend,” said his mom, noticing he’d come up to see Jenny return from upstairs. Then she added, “Properly,” which meant he was bent almost double, his butt sticking up high and proud. And bare. And defenceless.

He bent down again, and again his butt was the highest part of him with the cold evening air on it making him very aware of where he was, but he knew it would be red hot soon enough.

He didn’t have long to wait. From his position all he could see were his mothers feet moving to one side of him and a little back, then something tapped his rear He knew what that was.

Then the strap was lifted and flicked back down so it was a light slap of the leather tails, making him jump. If anything these served to make his erection harder and right now it was rock hard. This repeated. The leather was removed then a moment later there was a slap as the tails were flicked back down. Mom was getting her range, setting up for the strapping.

There was nothing for a few moments then he heard movement. Something indistinct. Like the sound of air over something.

Gunshot loud a ‘craack’ preceded an immense sting right in the middle of his butt.

The first was always the worst.

He hissed, “oohh” then in a few seconds when the sting peaked, “aaahh,” as he clenched his butt cheeks, waggled his hips and shook his legs.

The first half dozen were always the worst he thought. The butt was fresh and tender and unprepared so it reacted strongly to the two tails of their family strap coming down hard.

The second stroke arrived in a handful of seconds, the time taken for his mom to tap his butt once, then put the strap far behind her and wind up.

It landed equally hard and on exactly the same place making his gasp of pain louder, as it should have been. Damn but two in the same spot stung.

All his friends at school had talked about this. All their mom’s had a similar strap and they all used it pretty much the same way. They’d talked about it regularly and the consensus was that there must be some kind of manual or video on how to give a strapping as there was almost no variation. All the moms gave the strokes a few seconds apart, not waiting long, and they all tapped the bared butt then put the strap way back and behind them and wound up for the delivery.

“It’s like a forehand in tennis,” his friend Ralph said. “My mom winds up then blam, she lets me have it right onto the butt time and again. Shit, I get a dozen spread out and it’s hard to sit for a day.”

John had nodded, “Me too, my mom is the same.” All the other boys nodded and agreed. One had added, “My mom straps my thighs if she’s really angry. Had that?”

They all nodded. They’d all had it that way and hated it. For all the obvious reasons.

His mom was clearly annoyed as she usually spread the strokes out over his butt and only came back to the same place if there were going to be a lot of them. This time and two on the same place meant she was cross. Not only that, she was timing the strokes more carefully than she usually did.

His mom usually gave strokes a few seconds apart, requiring just the time it took to put the strap far behind herself then bring it round onto his butt. This time she was delaying a half dozen seconds and he couldn’t help think that it made the strapping worse. After each stroke the sting increased. It increased and increased, then when it peaked his mom slammed the strap down for the next stroke so it really was worse than a normal strapping.

The second ‘craack’ of strap on his butt had lifted his chest up for a moment, his arms struggling to keep him down then as the pain again peaked his “Aaaghhh,” came out stronger.

That was two. He didn’t know how many he was getting but it was seldom less than a dozen. With his report he guessed it might be eighteen and hopefully no more.

The strapping proceeded. The ‘craack’ of the third stroke found a new part of his butt, a little lower and the fourth a dozen seconds later landed on top so now his whole butt felt like a wide band of fire was laying on it.

The fifth was high on the butt, above the others and on a new area also. Then the sixth landed on top of that one and now his whole seat was blazing.

Then his mom stopped. The delay in the strapping was unusual as she usually wanted to get it out of the way and go back to whatever she’d been doing. Not this time.

“John, that’s your first six.” She was speaking sharply. He didn’t like the word ‘first’ as it implied more sets of six. He felt the strap laying in his flaming butt, the weight of the leather just felt in among the stinging heat.

“Here is your second. Hold tight,” she said quietly.

He braced himself expecting the next stroke right in the middle of the butt over the place where the first two strokes had landed. He knew his butt was starting to lose its sensitivity a little, the strapping dulling it slightly. It was a phenomenon he and Jenny were quite used to.

Not only that, his erection was gone now, the heat and sting in his butt had driven that completely out of his mind. All he could feel in his front was, nothing. Nothing at all. His butt was screaming out drowning all other thoughts.

This time the strap landed in the middle of his thighs, right in the middle of the backs of his legs exactly half way between the sit spot and the back of his knees. He’d been strapped there before, many times and dreaded it but was unable to control himself. He shouted out “Yarrr”, shot upward and rubbed his hands over the fierce band of sting, not that it helped much at all. The twin tails of the family strap lashed deep into his thighs resisting any kind of lessening of the sting.

“That one does not count. Bend for the repeat,” his mother said slowly and coldly.

He instantly regretted standing.

It was a rule in the family just the same as for all his friends that if he or his sister rose during a strapping the stroke was repeated. Some of his friends mom’s even added penalty strokes, sometimes one and a few of the mothers made it two. He was thankful his mother didn’t know to add penalties. Three extra was not what he wanted at all.

But his mom did know. “Rise again and it will be two extra as well as the repeat,” she said, “same as what your friends get. I’ve been checking their pages. I’ve been far too lenient with you and Jenny. Jenny, let this be a lesson to you, you will get the full three if you rise.”

“Yes mom,” said Jenny quickly, standing in front of John watching the strapping with real fear. But also she felt something else, something insidious was happening and she couldn’t resist its effects.

Jenny knew it would all too soon be her turn to bend and have that strap lick across her butt and feel the red hot sting again. But that didn’t stop the feelings as she thought about how it would feel to use the strap like her mom was. That was something she couldn’t let go and it was exciting.

For John, as he waited he feared the worst then it arrived. Another stroke right over the top of the last one, doubling the sting in his thighs which he had thought would be impossible. He lifted his chest slightly but kept his grip on the chair seat as he yelled out in pain, “Aaggh,” and then in a few seconds as it seeped into him, “Oh-oh-hooo,” and he remained bent over.

Not long later his mom wound up and strapped him again, and again it was in the same spot. Three in a row and the sting was incredible. “Agghh mom, please,” he gasped. This was far harder than he’d ever had before.

“Far too lenient,” his mom said then the next stroke landed just above the band of flaming sting from the previous three. Well, two with a repeat. This too blazed into him and hurt like hell making him gasp as did the next placed over the same place.

Still bent he hoped like hell this was the last six, but he had two more strokes to go. The next arrived lower, just above the backs of his knees and below the first three strokes. He jumped, he shook his legs and he lifted slightly but remained down and he barely kept the gasps in. The next stroke was over the top and this too just felt impossibly painful.

“That’s better. Take your strokes properly.” Then after a second she added, “We all have to if we want to be the people we should be.” His mom was making an effort tonight, he could almost feel the determination she had in applying the strap. “It would be far better not to earn them in the first place. Maybe they’ll help you with that.”

As he was bent over he felt something cool laying on his bottom. He looked up and around so see his mom had her arm extended so she was resting the strap on his butt. Not a good sign. Then his butt was tapped lightly, the strap lifting up then falling down, then it happened again. She was teasing him almost, the taps getting stronger as she repeated.

“That was your second six, with an extra. Lets see how we go with the third six shall we,” she said quietly, ominously quietly. She sounded determined and more than a little cross.

He didn’t have long to wait. The first stroke scorched over the crown of his butt. Then while he was gasping and shaking his butt, the second landed almost on the same spot but just a little down. He didn’t have long to wait for the third which was lower again. Then the fourth, the fifth and the sixth strokes all landed lower and lower till the sixth had landed on the join between his butt and his legs, right at the top of his thighs. That stung, lifting him up onto his toes and made him shake his legs and butt in the sting.

After this six he was gasping and shaking his hips, trying to get on top of the sting and the heat and he noticed something. His whole butt was an even hot, an even sting, every part of it stung infernally. Mom hadn’t missed a bit of it.

Again he felt the strap laying on his butt. Again he looked back to see his mom poised, arm extended, the strap lifting just a little then fall back with a gentle arm flick.

The delay lingered, then lingered some more as the strap rose then fell just a few inches so he was aware of it. Then, “Those thighs need more,” his mom said quietly.

It was the last place he wanted strapped.

This time and just seconds later the strap streaked around then slammed into the tops of his thighs making him jump and stamp his feet. “Yaaahh,” he gasped with the pain, his thighs and butt both screaming in the red hot intensity of the strapping. He looked back and saw his mom’s feet moving then the next ‘craack’ sounded and again the strap slammed into his thighs just a little way down from the last. He barely kept himself down, barely was able to stop himself from rising in the immense sting from the strapping.

Only the thought of three more strokes of the family strap to his thighs kept him down.

In the pain, in the total immersion of the red hot sting he managed to stay down, just. His mom applied the strap as hard as she could moving the lashes down his thighs till the last one was just above his knees, the whole area a band of red hot sting.

Again there was a delay, and again he hoped that was the last set of six. Again he felt the strap laying on his bottom as his mom looked at her handiwork. “John, that was four sets. If your school ever posts a report like that I’ll double it up.”

That was a hell of a number. His butt would be roasted and he didn’t want to think about his thighs. If he had to wear swimming trunks the bruises would show for days. Lucky he was in long pants then he almost smiled. Not so for Jen, she wore some short skirts and he’d seen other girls with strap marks on their thighs at school, even the girl he fancied like hell had.

The strap rose and fell, a light crack as she strapped him to keep his attention, then another, then another. “I am so tempted to give you more you have no idea. Now stand in front of the char and Jenny can have her turn.” With that the strap rose then cracked down harder making him jump.

As he rose he felt the pain in his butt and thighs increase. She was sure taking a liking to cracking that strap down. Even the light strokes like that last little one were painful.

He stood then went to raise his pants but his mom ran the strap through her hands, flicked it in the air and caught it. “No. Pants down.” So he shuffled till he was standing in front of the chair, intensely aware of his cock and worried it would erect itself despite his best intention. The heat from his strapping wasn’t helping. At the moment it was all sting and some heat. In a few minutes the heat in his front would ramp up and he just knew he’d get a stiffie.

With every movement he took and even when he was standing still he felt his butt and thighs scream out their anguish from the strapping. No part of them wasn’t red hot and stinging.

But his cock was starting to twitch as Jenny moved forward. Dammit, it was impossible to control the damned thing he thought. Why did he get that feeling when it was his sister? There was something vastly wrong about that. Then and even worse, how would it be if it was his girlfriend in this position? She shuddered to think, then the thought of her staying over made him think thoughts that just made it all the more difficult to keep his cock under control. Damn and triple damn.

— Continued in Part-2