Growing up, my siblings and I feared my Dad more than my Mom from a disciplinary perspective; yet it was my Mom who was the actual disciplinarian in the house. This was mostly due to the fact that she was a stay at home Mom and my Dad went to work every day except Sundays. My Mom would spank us with a designated flyswatter when we were younger but then when she figured out that it wasn’t as effective the older we got, she started using one of her sandals. The one of choice had a thick leather sole and hurt like hell. Yes…the dreaded chancla.
Most Hispanic kids tell tales of a flying chancla that, once thrown, could lock in on their location until it made contact. My Mom’s sandal could lock in on your backside alright…repeatedly. You see, my Mom was not a thrower. She would just spank us with it. Getting hit one time by a flying chancla pales in comparison to about 20 swats in a row on the bare butt with that leather sandal.
As I got a little older, she started to threaten to spank me with one of my Dad’s belts, and let me tell you…my Dad had some wide, thick leather belts that I just KNEW could cause some serious pain. I wanted nothing to do with them, so I’d behave just at the mention of “The Belt”.
One afternoon, I was out and about playing on my bike with my friends from the neighborhood. This was back in the day when parents could let their kids run around during the day without any worry. My Mom (like many during these days) had the rule that when the streetlights came on, it was time to get home. And, you had better get home shortly afterwards or you’d be in trouble. A couple months prior, I’d gotten caught up playing and came home a little later than I should’ve and was met at the door by her already holding her sandal. As I walked in the door, she gave me a hard swat with it and told me to go to my room. Once there, she was right behind me and I had to drop my pants and underwear, and bend over the bed for a pretty hard spanking. Afterwards, she told me that next time she would take the belt to me. Holy smokes! I wiped my tears away and thought: Yeah, no belt for me thank you. That leather sandal hurt bad enough!
Well a few months later, I was late again. When I realized that I was late, terror struck through me as I remembered her threat. I rushed home, went through the side gate, and put my bike away. Then I quietly and apprehensively came in through our back door and into the kitchen. Thankfully she wasn’t waiting by the door. For a brief moment, I thought I was off the hook. However, my relief was short lived as I saw “The Belt” hanging over the doorknob of the pantry door. Shit! This is going down! No sooner than that thought came into my head, she came around the corner, reached over and took it off the doorknob. “Go to your room.” she said. I quickly did as I was told and just knew the worse pain in my life was coming. She came in and told me, “I told you what was going to happen next time you were late.” I once again had to drop my pants and underwear, and bend over my bed. Then the unexpected happened…
She had NO idea how to spank with a belt! Instead of doubling it over and swinging it, she held the end opposite the buckle and spanked with like the last 8″ to 10” of it. Granted, it didn’t tickle but it was nowhere near what even a sandal spanking would have felt like. Just the realization of that made it almost funny but I sure as hell wasn’t going to let HER know that it didn’t really hurt. I reasoned that if she realized that, she’d go back to her trusty sandal for the spanking OR she’d just wait until my Dad got home and hand him the belt. Or worst yet, she’d tan my backside with her sandal and THEN give my Dad the belt to take to me when he got home. [Shudder].
I realized all this over the course of a few “lashes” and then…I did my best acting and carried on like she was killing me with the thing, all the while almost gleeful inside that she was using “the belt” instead of her sandal.
When she she finished spanking me and left the room, I peeked under my door and made sure she was down the hall before starting my little victory dance. I was quite pleased with myself and my acting skills. I knew that not only did I escape a real belting, but I escaped a real spanking altogether! I also thought that, moving forward…she may go to the belt instead of her sandal and that would be pretty OK with me! I could just act my way through it. I had a get out of jail free card!
Later, when I was an adult, I finally shared this story with my family at a gathering at my house. We all laughed but later after everyone had left, my wife told me, “So you really pulled one over on your Mom back then huh?” “Yeah, maybe I missed my calling as an actor.” I kind of chuckled. “Well, I don’t know about you missing your calling BUT, I do know that you missed out on a real belt whuppin’. And you know me…I believe that if you’ve earned a real spanking, you need to receive a real spanking.” She continued her lecture, “Your Mom had those rules in place for YOUR safety and was probably worried sick about you that night. And you got off scot-free. She intended to spank you with something more painful than her sandal to make an impression on you but instead, you found it funny. So…the way I see it, the punishment is still owed and I’m going to satisfy that debt tonight.” My heart sunk. She then pointed to the belt around her waist and said, “Oh and I DO know how to use a belt.”
It was the worse belt in the world. The brown, Italian leather belt from hell. This belt is thick, heavy, and pliable. It is the perfect storm of belts and she has lit my backside up with it many times before.
She continued, “Go up to our room and assume the position. I’ll be in to deal with you in a moment.” I tried to argue but got that ‘look’ she gives right before adding on additional swats to the END of the spanking. I decided taking what was already coming was the better option.
It was a long walk to our room and that feeling of being afraid of the belt came right back to haunt me. I got to our room, dropped my pants and underwear, bent over the end of the bed, and awaited her arrival. It wasn’t long at all. She came in the door and walked over to the side of the bed where I could see her unbuckle her belt and start to pull it through her belt loops. “Many moons ago you were supposed to feel the wrath of a belt by a worried and somewhat angry Mom. I am going to channel that worried and angry Mom feeling as I take this belt to your backside. And, I’m pretty sure you’re not going to need to ‘act’ like it hurts.”
She had the belt doubled over in her hand and walked to the end of the bed. “You were supposed to get a severe belt whuppin’ that night and you didn’t. So now, you’re going to get one and I’m going to add some interest for it being so long overdue.” And with that, she began to swing that belt hard, fast, and furious. One lash after another; some landed a little high, some on the back of my legs, some wrapped around and stung the hip, and some twisted and landed the infamous “edge swats”. I was crying probably after only 8 to 10 swats, it hurt that bad. SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, the swats just kept landing with fury. I started begging, “Please Mistress, I’ve learned my lesson!” “Oh, I don’t think you have.” she quickly retorted. “You thought this was funny earlier tonight. Remember?” SMACK, SMACK, SMACK. The belt kept flying complete with a few more wrap around swats to the hip and more edge shots that buckled my knees as tears began to flow. “I’m sorrrry!” I cried out. But she kept spanking. It was one of the worst belt whuppin’s I had ever had in my life.
Finally the spanking stopped. As I stayed bent over the bed crying, she said, “Now…~I~ have a story for YOU. When I was little, if MY Mom caught us lying to her, we’d get a spanking for whatever it was we did. Then she’d wait and let us calm down, stop crying, and then tell us that we were getting another spanking right then for lying about it. The way I see it, when you were pretending that the belting hurt; that was pretty much lying to your Mom. So, after you calm down and stop crying, you’re going to get another whuppin’ for lying.” Then I saw a small, terrifying smile on her face as she mused, “The revenge of the Moms if you will.”
She laid that evil, doubled over belt on the bed in front of me. Then she sat on the side of the bed and surfed on her phone. After about 5 minutes she said, “OK, time to pay for your lying ways, mentiroso (liar in spanish).” She picked up the already doubled over belt, walked to the end of the bed again and said, “Ooo, your backside is already wrecked. Good thing the upper back of your legs has hardly been addressed. And, I think there are some fresh tears to be had from that spot.” And with that, she started spanking the upper back of my legs as I quickly started to cry, then bawl. As you may know, the back of the legs is a very tender and painful spot to get spanked on. She would usually only give me about 15 to 20% of swats there during the course of a spanking but she was doing the opposite. I was struggling to keep still and bent over. She quickly address that with, “If I have to tie you down, you’re going to get a THIRD spanking, with the cane!” I hung on for dear life as she continued to tear up my backside. After an excruciating eternity, the belt stopped landing. I was bawling and sobbing earnestly but stayed bent over until she said she was done. “You sure you’re not acting?” she sarcastically questioned. “N-n-no, Ma’am.” I cried out a response.
Then she said, “OK, your punishment is now over and your debt has been satisfied.” She started to put her belt back on and said, “I think that story you tell embarrasses your Mother. So…ff I hear you tell that story again, you’ll also relive the punishment part of it again.”
With that she finished buckling her belt, blew me a kiss, and walked out of the room. Suffice it to say, the story of my Mother’s failed belting has not been brought up at any family get-togethers ever since.