The Razor Strap (Strop)
We never had a woodshed growing up but I remember reading about or seeing in old movies…misbehaving kids, getting taking to the woodshed for a whuppin’. The implement used was often a leather razor strop, which was common back in the old days as men used it to sharpen their straight edge razors for shaving. I remember the first time I actually came across a razor strap (or razor strop as it is technically called), was in an antique store my Wife and I were perusing through. Intrigued I walked over to it and took it off its hook. The weight of the strap was substantial and while I had never been spanked with one before, I could sure understand the sense of dread, one must’ve had when sent to retrieve it for a spanking.
It was a thick, heavy and dense leather strap, with a strip of cloth on the other side. Looking at the “business end” of the strap you could see how it it would do some damage to an errant behind. Of course I had to have it. At the time I bought it, my Wife and I were doing fun spankings and I thought this would provide for a great scene or role play as well as test my pain threshold. Of course if it got to be too much (which I knew it would), I could use my safeword to end the spanking. In retrospect, if I had known that I would eventually get REAL spankings with it, there is a good chance that I would NOT have bought it!
My Wife was quite pleased with my purchase and held it admiring it on the ride home. Lightly smacking it on her hand and telling me how she was going to take me to the woodshed when we got home. It was one of those exciting moments for people into fun spankings. I was anxious to get home and get it but a little nervous at the same time.
When we got home, my wife took the strap, looked me in the eye and said, “Five minutes. In five minutes, I’m going to come get you and take you to the woodshed. In the meantime, I want you to sit right in this chair and think about what’s coming.” Oh man, this is it and right off the bat, my sense of dread came on a little stronger. I surfed on my phone for a little bit, when she came down the hall. She had pulled her hair up and put glasses on. I wish I had a teacher that looked like this when I was growing up. “Come with me young man.” She stated. And I got up and followed her down the hall to our bedroom. When I got to our room, I saw that she had taken down one of the pictures on the wall and used that hook to hang the razor strap on. Man, it looked quite menacing just hanging there. My Wife noticed me looking at it and went right into stern mode. “Go fetch me the razor strap young man.” she said. I could feel the fear in the pit of my stomach as I approached it. When I took it off its hook, the hook on the strap made a distinct rattle (which I’ve now come to know and fear) and I took the strap over to my Wife. Without saying a word, I timidly handed it to her. She didn’t waste any time. She pointed to the bed and said, “Assume the position.” I walked over to the bed, unbuckled my belt, and pulled down my shorts and underwear. Then I bent over the end of the bed and waited for the spanking to begin.
Learning A Lesson
She walked over to the left side of me and said, “I’m going to teach you a lesson you won’t soon forget.” And with that, she started swinging that strap HARD. The strap landed with a SMACK and I could feel a searing pain where the end of the strap bit into the side of my right butt cheek. I gasped at the pain when the second swat landed…SMACK! And she continued spanking me with it, one right after another. I don’t think I even got to 10 lashes when I blurted out my safeword, “Hold me!” my desperate voice called out. She walked behind me caressing my newly welted backside. “Wow, you only got through 11 lashes. I think I like my new strap.” She calmly mused. I was surprised at how much it hurt and was happy it was over. She was surprised as well as she knows I have a pretty high pain tolerance and have taken some pretty good spankings from her. Anyway…we progressed to a wonderful session of love making with her rubbing her fingers over the welts she gave me, formed by the end of the strap on the side of my butt. It was a spanking to remember but I remember being grateful that I had a safeword way out. I and thinking…I couldn’t imagine getting it for real with that thing…
Times How They Have Changed
Well, queue time lapse blur and here we are many, many moons later. We’ve evolved into a mutually and consensual agreement where she will give me a real domestic discipline spanking for offenses we’ve both deemed spank-able offenses. While I will get a punishment spanking on occasion (about monthly), I get taken to the “woodshed” about 3 or 4 times a year. Getting taken to the woodshed has become the name for getting the (or one of the) worst spankings of my life. Our bedroom is the woodshed and while she used to use just the razor strap, she then changed the protocol to be a belt whuppin’ first (with her meanest belt), immediately followed with a razor strapping. There is no safeword during these spankings (although I imagine if I did say my safeword, she’d probably stop. BUT…that wouldn’t be a real spanking then, would it? Besides, I agreed to be held accountable in this way and am man enough to take what she has deemed necessary by way of corporal punishment. Even if it means her reducing me to tears sometimes.)
The woodshed whuppin’s have evolved yet again. It still means getting one of the worst spankings of my life, but now she’s expanded beyond just using the belt and razor strap. Sometimes it is just the belt, sometimes it is a water soaked cane (one of the worse things ever) and sometimes it is a combination of 2 or 3 of her meanest implements. It just depends on what she feels like using that day or night.
It only took me a couple trips to the woodshed to realize that it is something to avoid if possible. And like it did back in the day…just the mention of getting taken to the woodshed strikes fear into THIS errant behind and straightens my attitude and behavior right up.