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Hiding the Belt

by Okayda

Copyright on this story text belongs at all times to the original author only, whether stated explicitly in the text or not. The original date of posting to the MMSA was: 10 Dec 1996

We had just driven back from our trip down to the beach for the weekend. We pulled into the parking spot and started to get our stuff out of the back of John's little golden MG midget. John reached down into the space behind the seats and picked his clothes up. Then he reached back again and pulled out his brown belt, looking at me and smiling, saying "We're going to need this". I suddenly became nervous about what was going to happen, I had hoped he had forgotten that he had promised to give me a taste of leather when we got back. John and I had been roomates for a couple of years. When he said I was going to get "a taste of leather" that meant a whipping with the belt he normally wore, which was a brown leather belt, almost 2 inches wide. It had a bunch of little black marking that had been burned into it. Boy, was I familiar with it.

As soon as we went into the apartment, John laid the belt on the top of the counter by the kitchen and started cleaning up the kitchen. He didn't say anything for a few minutes which didn't necessarily mean he was angry or anything. After a while, he finished in the kitchen and picked the belt up off of the counter and came over and sat in his brown leather easy chair; he put the doubled up belt on the coffee table. I sat on the couch, waiting for him. He lit a Kool cigarette and sat back and looked at me severely, with his sometimes cold blue eyes.

"Weren't you supposed to clean up the kitchen before we went to the beach?" he asked.

I tried to think of the best thing to say to avoid getting in further trouble. John was pretty much a no nonense guy. If you broke one of his rules, you got punished and there was no escape. In all that time, I had never been able to talk him out of a single whipping no matter how good an excuse I had.

"I was going to do it as soon as we got home but you started before I could" I offered.

"Bull shit" he said. Then he sat back in his chair, smoking his cigarette and looking at me, sort of appraising the situation.

"Well, you had a taste of leather coming for acting childishly at the beach. You're going to get that in a few minutes." I began to worry about the upcoming whipping and wondered what John was going to do about not cleaning up the kitchen. "We'll talk about what I'm going to do about not cleaning up a little later."

John stood up and picked up the belt from the coffee table. He put his thumb in the folded end and snapped it loudly a couple of time and gestured with his head towards the bedroom. "Lets go take care of business"

I got up and went into my bedroom and lowered my pants to my knees, laying face down on my bed, leaving only my white jockey shorts between my butt and what was coming. John came in with his cigarette and the doubled up belt. He put his cigarette into an ashdray on the desk and turned to face the bed. I was looking at him and he told me to turn my head away. Then, without saying another word, John took a mightly swing and brought the doubled up brown belt full force down upon my butt. CRACK! I moaned but knew better than to try to get up. John paused. He liked to pause between swats so you never knew when the next one was coming and so your butt wouldnt be clenched when he smacked it. CRACK.! Just as hard as the first swat. He was a great athlete and could drive a golf ball well down the fairway. He used that same stroke when wielding his belt. This time, John kept whaling away with his belt until I had the twelve swats he normally gave me and then he left the room, leaving me with a red and aching butt.

After a few minutes, I pulled my pants up and came out. John had laid the belt back on the coffee table and had gotten himself a beer. I went to get a beer, but he said "Oh, no, no, no... you don't need a beer right now. Come over here and stand at the end of the couch"

I came over and stood there like he said.

"Alright, you've got to learn to do your job around here, including cleaning up the kitchen. So every night as soon as I come home for the next five nights, you're going to get your ass beat red. I don't want any argument. As soon as I come home, we go in and take care of business. Understood?"

John had never done anything even close to this and I was stunned but I nodded my head.

"Can I have a beer now, Johnny"

"Hell, no! Get your ass in the bedroom and don't come out for the rest of the evening"

The next afternoon, I was really nervous waiting for John to come home. He usually got home just about 5:00 so starting about 4:00 I got really nervous. My butt was still sort of sore from the night before and I was really dreading his arrival, wondering if he was really going to do it as soon as he walked in. I even cleaned up the kitchen again really good, even scrubbing the floor. I thought maybe it would put him in a good mood. I kept looking at the clock as it got closer to the time. True to form, just about 5:00 the door opened and in he came.

My hope that John had forgotten about the session was quickly dismissed. As soon as he shut the door, he started unbuckling his belt and pulled it off. John had a way of doing this that would send chills up your spine. It seemed in one smooth move, he would unbuckle the belt, slip it off of his jeans, double it up, and snap the doubled up belt. As soon as he had done this, he smiled and said, "Let's take care of business". Just like the night before, we went into the bedroom, I dropped my pants and laid face down on the bed, and John delivered twelve really hard swats. John never said a word while he was licking you either; the only sound was the whack of the strap and any groans you made.

For the next couple nights, it was exactly the same. As soon as he came in the door each night,off came the belt and we marched into the bedroom. Of course, by the time this had happened for three nights in a row, my butt was really getting sore and I could really feel it when I sat down, even in a pretty soft chair. Twenty four hours was not enough time to recover from one of John's sessions and I had to figure something out. I had my break the next day, because when John whipped me the night before, he left the belt in the living room. The next morning he got up a little late and when he ran off to work, the belt was still there. I had what I thought was an inspiration, hide the belt.

I knew it was probably a stupid thing to do - to hide the belt- but I was sort of desperate. So, I took the belt and hid it between John's mattress and box spring. That night, as soon as he got home, John smiled as usual and looked for his belt. After a few minutes, he came out and asked if I had seen it. I shook my head no.

"Come in here and help me look in my closet for it."

I went in John's bedroom and we began looking through his closet for the belt. I felt really embarrassed helping him look for a belt to whip me with. After a few minutes, John became really suspicious. "I thought I left the belt in the living room" He went out into the living room and came back again. At this time, I think he had really strong suspicions. John smiled a bit and said "I know how to find the belt". With that he reached into the closet, and brought out a different belt. This was one I had given him, partly jokingly, for fathers day. He usually didn't wear it because it had a heavy budweiser buckle that was uncomfortable for him but it was wider and heavier than the belt he normally wore and that I had hidden. The budweiser belt was more than 2 inches wide and at least 1/4 inch thick. Since John usually pulled off his normal belt he was wearing to give me a whipping, I hadnt been licked with this one yet. Suddenly, I wasn't too happy about this development.

"Get your ass over the bed" John had doubled the belt up and was gesturing towards his bed.

I dropped my pants and bent over the edge of John's bed. Usually, I got licked on my own bed laying face down so this was really a whole new world, bending over the edge of his bed with my butt jutting out. Just like normal, without saying a word, John began laying into me with a series of really hard whacks. WHACK! WHACK! There was a big differnce between his normal belt and the new one, which seemed like a ton of bricks landing on my butt. It also made a really large WHACK sound when it landed but I was less concerned about the sound than the pain. I was sort of counting along but time he didn't stop at twelve and I began crying out some, which I normally didn't do.

"You can lay there and cry all day," John said (breaking the silence as he delivered about the 16th swat), "But I am going to beat your ass with this belt until you tell me where my regular one is" With that he continued to whale away. After about four more swats, I had already gotten about twenty, I told John I thought I knew where his belt was. Then I showed him where I had put his regular belt. I stood up with my pants still around my ankles and handed him the belt I had hidden.

Surprisingly, he wasn't too angry about it and seemed sort of amused. Dropping the budweiser belt back in the closet, he grabbed the regular belt out and said, "Well, it's time you two got reacquainted. Now, you've got your twelve coming for your regular session. Get back on the bed." I knew better than to protect so I laid over the edge of the bed again and I was glad that he had not decided to add even more to this session.

Sore as I was, John proceeded to give me twelve with the belt that I had hidden. By that time, I couldn't believe how sore my butt was but I had nowhere to do and nothing to do but lay there and take it as best I could, yelling out more than normal, and promising to do my chores.

Finally, the next night was supposed to be the final session. As soon as John came home, I expected to be whipped right away, despite my really sore butt so I was hoping he would just come home and we would get it over with. When he came home, though, he didn't pull the belt off. He suggested we go out and have a few beers. Although I was anxioius to get it over, I also thought that maybe he would forget if I bought him enough beers.

I tried. As we got out of the car and started walking through the parking lot to the apartments, John dashed my hopes by unbuckling his belt and pulling it off while we were still outside. Of course, this was really embarassing because I was afraid one of the nieghbors would come out and see John marching me into the house, belt in hand. As we were walking towards the apartment building, he even laughed, "Well, we got business to take care of one more time!" When we got in the house, he took me into the bedroom and laid into me good, just twelve swats again, but well delivered. Finally, it was over.

I kept the kitchen real clean for a long time.

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