I grew up the daughter of a police officer who, by the time I was 14 when this memory takes place, was a 19 year veteran of the police force and second in command. I was the oldest and always seemed to be the one getting herself in trouble more so than my sister, who is 3 years my junior.
My dad was a pretty strict parent and talking back or breaking a rule often would result with being led down to the partially finished basement where we would be spanked with the very same belt that he wore on his uniform. If you are familiar with a duty belt they are thick and heavy and when your dad is tanning your backside with it you sure do feel it.
My best friend was a bit of a trouble maker herself and had convinced me to skip school one Friday and just hang out. Thinking like a 14 year old, I went along with the plan, never thinking how easy it would be for us to get caught.
That morning, I walked to school with my little sister like always, but when we arrived at the school she went to the elementary doors and I acted as if I was heading to the middle school doors. Rather than go in, though, I turned around and walked off school property to meet up with my friend. We hung around at a nearby park and then decided to walk to the river.
During all this time, the school would have taken attendance and found me to be missing from homeroom. A check with the office to see that I was a no call no show for school, led them to call my mom to see if I was staying home today. The school also asked my sister who said that I had been at the school, but she didn’t know where I was.
My dad, jaded from all his years on the department and no prior issues with me skipping school, jumped to conclusions right away that something must have happened to me. My dad had police officers driving around the town looking for me and, soon after, my friend too as the school put two and two together. Sure enough, we spotted a patrol car heading down the road near the river. He apparently saw us before we saw him because, even though we attempted to hide, he pulled his car over and yelled for us to get over to him.
I was forced to speak with my dad on the officer’s phone to assure him I was fine and so was my friend. The officer then radioed that both of us were located and, while he did that, my friend spoke with her grandma who was her guardian. My dad showed up and transported both of us to school, where we found out we both would serve in-school suspension for skipping. During the car ride to the school my dad avoided real conversation with us other than scolding us for what we did.
I think my dad wanted to save me some embarrassment so he didn’t discuss my fate at all. I knew I was dead meat though. It had probably been a good 10 months before my dad last took his belt to me, but I knew that streak was ending after school today.
Sitting through school the rest of the day was horrible as I feared what was going to happen to me at home. Once school was out and I was back home, my mom took her turn at yelling at me and we just waited for dad to get home around 4.00. When dad finally got home he went to change his clothes and returned in street clothes, but holding his duty belt.
I started tearing up and telling him how sorry I was. He told me how scared he was today that I had been taken, and he told me how much I worried my mother. He scolded me about wasting my education by doing stupid crap like skipping school. He then told me to get up and follow him down stairs. We went to the finished part of the basement which was a good sized room with a large couch and a recliner chair and my dad’s television he would watch sports on.
When we got to the room was when I finally noticed it; my dad had tears in his eyes. In my 14 years I never once saw him cry. I realized just how much I had scared him today and my heart broke. My dad singled for me to lay down so I took my place laying flat on the couch on my tummy. I reached back and pulled my shirt up a bit so it was off my Jean covered butt, since my dad would always make me do that anyway. I then grabbed hold of the cushion, closed my eyes and braced myself for the first lick.
When it came, it took my breath away. I don’t know why, but no matter how many times I felt that belt it took my breath when it hit my butt for the first time. By the second spank I was in tears, and like always just squeezed the cushions as hard as I could, cried and would kick my feet as my dad landed another 10 spanks. I didn’t count them but my dad would normally lay on 12 hard spanks with his belt. When he finished my butt was on fire with throbbing pain and I was bawling.
My dad rubbed my back for a bit and told me how he hated doing this. He then went back upstairs as I laid there recovering. After a bit I sat up and, though my butt was tender, I sat on the couch and promised myself that I would never do anything to make my dad have to belt me again. For the first time ever, I really believed him when he said how much he hated spanking me. I kept that promise and moved out at the age of 20 never receiving another spanking.