THE POMMEL

BY MASTER CHRIS

It was just rotten timing. I've never had a great sense of timing
but this time not only was I the victim of my own demise, but
this would change my life forever.

I should explain. My name is Katherine Parker; Kat to my friends.
I'm sixteen now but the incident I'm going to describe to you
happened when I was fourteen years old. I'm considered pretty, I
guess. I'm now 5' 2" high and weigh about 110lbs. My hair is a
fine blond and my figure is athletic, I guess. I'm on the running
team in high school. I wish I had bigger boobs but the "B" cup
I've got are at least firm. With my narrow tummy, they look
bigger.

The actual incident in question started much earlier actually, as
early as I can remember. My Dad is from the old school, you see.
He was brought up in a time and place where spankings and
corporal discipline were commonplace. When he and my Mom had me
and two years later my younger sister Paula, this child- rearing
philosophy was well entrenched.

Don't get me wrong, we had a great childhood. We were raised in a
very loving family where laughter and warm hugs were most common.
That's maybe one of the reasons that when spankings did happen
they were so memorable. There were two kinds of spankings in my
house. The first happened on the spot wherever the infraction
happened and at the first moment Mom or Dad caught hold of us. A
firm hand would reach around your waist from behind to pull your
bum right up high. Pants and panties would be yanked down
regardless of who might be present and a flurry of hard spanks
would have you in tears in seconds. When you were crying hard
enough to lose your breath, it'd be over and while you were being
hugged afterwards, you'd get a quiet lecture about what you did
wrong.

As I got older and better behaved, this kind of punishment became
less and less common. On much rarer occasions, maybe once a month
or maybe less, the second kind of spanking would occur. If I had
done something really bad, then I'd be told that I'd be getting a
spanking 'later'. I think I was eight or so, the first time I
remember one of these. I had used a swear word early one Saturday
morning and my Dad had grabbed me for what I was sure would be a
spanking. Instead he paused then looked at me as though he was
seeing me for the first time.

"You'll be spanked later," he said.

I was stunned. Spanking had always been 'now'.

I didn't see Dad the whole day. He locked himself into his
basement workshop where we could here him working on something. A
couple of times he emerged to head out on errands but the
basement remained closed. Around eight pm, close to when I'd
normally be heading to bed, my Mom came to find me and put me
into a bath.

"Stay in here Katherine until I fetch you," she said.

About ten minutes later, she came right into the bathroom while I
was still in the tub. It was surprising because by the age of
eight I was used to bathing myself. She made me stand up and then
I blushed a deep red as she used a soapy sponge to scrub my bum,
up and down the crack of my bum and then even up between my legs.
I squeaked in surprise when she pried my still boyish buttocks
wide open to ensure my tiny pink anus was all clean.

Mom pulled me from the tub and plunked me on the toilet.

"You'd better pee now, Katherine," she instructed. (She only
calls me Katherine when I'm in trouble.)

A moment later I was on my feet being dried by Mom with a big
fluffy bath towel which she then wrapped me in. Taking me firmly
by the arm, she pulled me out of the bathroom and down the stairs
to the basement den still barefoot. My Dad was standing in the
middle of the den in front of a large wooden contraption I had
never seen before, but with which I would become intimately
familiar in the years to come.

My Dad had obviously just constructed the device. It was made
mostly of wood and I could still smell the varnish he'd used. At
the top of the device at about hip- height was a wide saddle type
structure; a padded triangle covered in green leather. Below it
on either side were beams with more padded leather and wide black
straps of some kind. At the center was a series of gears and a
pedal whose purpose I could only guess at.

My eyes were wide open with confusion. I didn't know what to do
or what this contraption was for. My Dad led me over to his
invention.

"This is called the Pommel, Katherine," he said. "You'll spend
time on it when you need more punishment than just a plain old
spanking. When you're to be put on the Pommel, you'll stand right
here."

He led me right up to the padded triangle until my hips were
pushing through my towel and along one side of the thick padded
leather. I was facing away from the room.

"You're not allowed any clothing when you're on the Pommel, Kat,"
my Dad said quietly as he gently pulled the towel from me. I
blushed a crimson red again as I was left completely nude in
front of both of my parents. At the age of eight, I wasn't that
shy about my body and goodness knows, I'd been naked in front of
them many times. This, however, was quite different. My removal
of clothing wasn't accidental or casual; it was deliberate and
for the purpose of leaving me exposed in front of them. I had
never felt as self conscious about my body as this moment.

Dad gently pushed me forward with a hand at the middle of my back
until my belly was holding all my weight and my toes were barely
touching the ground behind me. The front of the triangle extended
in a narrow curve downwards coming up to the middle of my chest
and another smaller pad was adjusted to the perfect position for
me to rest my head on.

My bottom was already the highest part of my body and I felt very
vulnerable up there but my Dad wasn't quite done yet. From either
side of the Pommel, he pulled wide black cloth straps made out of
the same stuff seat belts are made from. The two five-inch wide
straps criss-crossed over the small of my back and were secured
with Velcro.

I was now helplessly pinned on the Pommel.

At my front, my hands were conveniently near a couple of handles
poking out from the two beams on either side of my head. I had
naturally grabbed them when I was bent over. The beams themselves
were also padded and my forearms were resting on their green
leather. I could see additional straps on the beams and my Dad
now secured my arms to them with narrow but firm straps at my
wrists and then just below and above my elbows. He moved in a
slow deliberate fashion which kept me from panicking I guess. My
whole front was now immoveable and I could hear my Dad moving
around behind me.

My legs were next and he pulled first the left sideways one to a
padded beam where it was fastened at the ankle, knee and then at
the lower part of my thigh. My right leg was next as he spread me
wide open to fasten it the same way as my left one.

I was completely and utterly helpless now and I couldn't help
pulling at the straps, experimenting with how strong they were.
There was no give to the straps at all. I was stuck in this
position until I was released. There was one further refinement
that made me feel even more helpless and even more exposed.

Reaching down, my father pressed a foot pedal near the bottom of
the Pommel's structure. Just like a barber's chair, the entire
device pushed upwards a couple of inches. The device had come
from a barber's chair, I would later find out and my father
pressed it downwards several more times until my spread open
bottom had been raised over a foot higher. My feet were now well
off the ground and I felt as though I was suspended in midair in
the middle of the room, my bottom held up and open for my
spanking.

"Ok Katherine," said my Dad, "double your age over the Pommel to
think about what you've done wrong then I'll be down to give you
your first taste of the strap with as many strokes as your age.
After that, you'll be over the Pommel for twice your age again to
calm down and think about the lesson."

My Dad put a thick black leather strap down just in front of me
on a low table. My eyes were glued to it.

I could hear Mom and Dad walking up the stairs behind me, leaving
me alone in the well lit basement den. I started to cry softly.
This experience was completely foreign to me. I was scared. I
promised myself silently that I'd never use a bad word again;
that I'd be a good girl from now on. My eyes kept coming back to
the black strap, thinking about how much it would hurt. I'd only
ever been spanked with a firm hand before and, although I was
always spanked many, many times, the thought of eight strokes
with the strap had me shivering with fear. It was a good thing my
Mom had made pee before coming down because I think I'd have done
it right over the Pommel.

Sixteen minutes went by at a crawl but once I could hear the
footsteps coming back down the stairs, I wished it would have
been longer.

My Dad's feet came around in front of me and I watched as his big
hand took the strap from the table.

"Alright Katherine," he said. "It's time for your first
strapping. I hope this teaches you a good lesson."

Without further ado, he laid the end of the strap across my
stretched buttocks, taking aim. The strap left my bottom and a
moment later I screeched as a burning fire accompanied the loud
cracking sound of the strap over my thin cheeks. As I gasped
another sucking gulp of air I burst into huge sobs.

"Nooooooo!" I cried. The pain was stunning.

My Dad waited a moment or two until the full effect of the first
stroke had soaked in and then I could hear the strap whistling
through the air again. In real terms, it probably didn't' take
that long. Perhaps five to seven minutes in all but it seemed
like a lifetime until the eighth and last stroke had arrived.

It took another five minutes at least until my crying had reduced
from loud crying to a more bearable sobbing and another five
minutes after that until I had gotten enough control over myself
to get my crying down to sniffles. By then there was only six
minutes to wait and I did it mostly in silence as both my parents
observed without speaking at all. My bottom was radiating so much
heat, I was sure I could warm the whole house.

When my sixteen minutes of after-time was over, it was my Mom who
came up to me first. She had a jar of cold cream with her and she
gently rubbed the soothing cream all over my buttocks, along the
crease with my thighs where at least one stroke had landed and
then with a slow swipe up between my buttocks to leave me
completely covered over and between my beet red cheeks. My father
came up next and with another push on the floor pedal, the Pommel
lowered until it was back in its starting position.

Then my father gently removed the straps which held me in reverse
order, releasing my feet first then my hands and finally my
belly. When I was on my feet, I got a big hug from both parents
as I professed my promise to be a good girl from now on.

It was a sincere promise but as I turned nine and beyond on a
fairly regular basis I would find myself sentenced to an evening
with the Pommel. It didn't happen often, maybe every six weeks or
so and, as I got older, the frequency gradually decreased. I
don't think I was ever punished unfairly but I was a high strung
kid and found it difficult to toe the line as much as my parents
wished.

I can't remember all the regular spankings I got while bent over
by my parents but I can recite *exactly* the circumstances around
each and every time I was put over the Pommel. It was also a time
where, just like all adolescent girls I was becoming acutely
aware of my own body and desperately wished it to remain private
as much as possible. I wasn't the only one to enjoy the Pommel's
treasures. I was almost eleven before I would see my younger
sister Paula punished this way for the first time. By that time
I'd been over the Pommel over a dozen times.

She'd been a handful all day; a precocious nine year old and she
just went too far being cheeky that morning.

"You'll get your spanking later young lady," my Mom said as she
passed sentence over my younger sister. Paula burst into tears.
She'd seen me numerous times when I'd been put over the Pommel.
She knew what she was in for. Paula begged Mom to spank her there
and then but Mom was having none of it.

"No Paula," she said. "You've gone too far and you're old enough
to know better. You can get a taste of the strap from your father
tonight and see if that makes you any better behaved."

Paula sniffled and sulked the whole day but it didn't make any
difference. At around supper time, Mom brought her up for her
bath and a half hour later, had her by the arm when she brought
her past me towards the den wearing only a towel. I felt a pang
of sympathy for her, knowing what she was in for but she really
had been miserable and I knew she deserved whatever she got.

"You can come with me too," my Mom said as she went past.

I looked up in surprise.

"That's right," said Mom. "Seeing your little sister get her
spanking may serve to remind you to stay on your best behaviour."

I stood up and followed them downstairs. It was the first time
I'd been here in an observing capacity. I saw my Dad take charge
of Paula, taking her by the arm. He pulled her towel off and then
placed her over the Pommel. I could see he'd lowered it to match
the height of her hips. It took only moments to strap her in and
as my Dad finally stepped to the side to use the floor pedal to
raise Paula's bottom up high for her strapping, I was absolutely
stunned. I knew that I'd been spread open each time for my
strappings but it was not until I could see Paula that I realized
just how exposed I'd been.

Paula's knees were pulled wide and with the extent that she was
bent, the position served to keep her buttocks and thighs
completely separated. I could see right up between her legs to
her hairless pubis. Even it was slightly spread open and I could
make out the lips on either side of her vagina and the pink
virginal inner walls. Slightly higher, her buttocks were also
spread wide and I could clearly see her pink crinkly anus
completely exposed.

I was mortified and blushed a deep red right up to my blond
hairline. I could see my Mom to my side looking at me and as I
blushed she gave a firm little smile. She could see how much the
sight was affecting me.

It was time to leave Paula for eighteen minutes now and we all
went upstairs to wait. I didn't have anything to say. My thoughts
had all turned inward. I suppose I should have been more
generous, thinking about my sister's impending punishment and how
much she'd be hurting but all that I could think about was how
exposed I must have been each and every time I was on the Pommel.
By the age of eleven I'd only started to develop. I had tiny
bumps where my breasts would eventually be and I'd been able to
detect only the first fine wisps of blond hair along the lips of
my pussy. The changes were intensely embarrassing to me and I
wanted to show them to no one. I guess up until that day I'd
blocked out how much anyone behind me could see but there was no
blocking it out of my mind once I'd actually seen Paula in that
position.

It was time to go back downstairs and I watched slack jawed as my
Dad strapped Paula nine times. Her cries brought tears to my eyes
and I was genuinely feeling sorry for her but I also had a dark
fascination with the view; her buttocks and the tops of the
thighs becoming a deep red while the fine line up between her
buttocks and down where her pussy was staying a pale white. A few
minutes later the strapping was over and we all waited until she
calmed down. After eighteen minutes, my Mom handed me the cold
cream and I was shocked at how hot her bottom was as I rubbed it
all over. Just like my Mom always did for me, I finished with a
slow swipe up the middle of her bottom with my fingers running up
between her buttocks and along the tight ridge of her pink anus.
It was a disturbing sensation that for some reason sent a rush of
excitement up my spine.

I stepped back to let my Dad lower and then unfasten Paula.

It was the first but by no means the last time I would see her
punished. TWe weren't always present when the other would be over
the Pommel but it happened more often than not. From that moment
forward though, I think the most intense part of my punishment
was the exposure.

I was developing normally as a young girl and I knew how much it
bothered Paula when she started to grow boobies and got some hair
down below. I got a bird's eye view of it as she turned eleven
herself and then twelve . For me, there were a few moments that
punctuated those punishments; a few moments that made those
strappings stand out.

The first happened when I had just turned twelve myself. By that
time I'd been over the Pommel numerous times for almost three
years. I'd had a bad day that afternoon. It was a Sunday and I
was cranky. I had wanted to go to the movies with friends but my
Uncle was due to visit for supper and Mom had vetoed my plan. My
Uncle was single and usually a lot of fun to hang out with but,
like I said, I was cranky. I stomped upstairs and threw something
across my room in protest but, to my misfortune, my Mom was right
behind me.

"Right young lady, that's a trip to the Pommel for you!" she said
firmly.

My eyes flew open in shock. But Uncle Kevin was coming over. Did
that mean he'd leave before I'd be strapped or that the
punishment would be delayed until the next day?

Unfortunately the answer was neither. I can remember as though it
was yesterday that while my Dad and Uncle Kevin relaxed in the
living room, I was brought up to the bathroom as usual and then
brought down by my Mom in only a towel to fetch my Dad. I was
already sniffling. I was completely covered by the towel of
course but when my uncle's eyes traveled up and down looking at
me, I knew that he knew that I was completely naked under that
towel. I felt very, very vulnerable. The thought that Uncle Kevin
would be able to hear my cries from up here in the living room
was mortifying but I didn't dare protest.

Mom and Dad led me downstairs and, as expected, I soon found
myself firmly fastened to the Pommel with my "A" cup breasts
hanging down on either side of the extended padded surface and my
lightly downed pussy fully spread open by my wide
spread-position. As often happened now, my growing nipples were
achingly hard. Showing my erect nipples to my Dad really bothered
me.

"Right, that's twenty-four minutes, Katherine," my Dad said as he
and Mom headed up the stairs. Twenty-four minutes of being
completely naked and spread open like a medical experiment left
me feeling very vulnerable before I finally heard them coming
back downstairs. I was determined not to cry although I knew it
was helpless. I was desperate that Uncle Kevin not hear my cries
from upstairs.

"Well you're right about how much she's exposed." It was the
voice of Uncle Kevin! I was shocked so deeply I couldn't breath.
"You can see all of her bits can't you?"

Gasping in a huge gulp of air, I burst into tears. I was
generally quite shy and the idea that all my up to now hidden
charms were completely exposed to my Uncle was too much to bear.
My father of course knew exactly what he was doing. The strapping
that night was, I'm sure as bad as always, but the lesson of
being exposed in front of another family member would stay with
me forever.

Well that was at the age of twelve and between twelve and
fourteen; I'd find myself on display to family members other than
the three of us three more times. Two of those times were with my
Uncle Kevin and, as I was developing, each time seemed worse than
the last. The third time was in front of my Aunt Sharon. She's my
Mom's younger sister and lives on the other side of the country
with her husband and three kids so we don't see her as often.
Well, as luck would have it, Paula and I were acting out the week
she visited when I was thirteen and Paula was eleven and she got
a chance to see us both on the Pommel. She was very enthusiastic
when Paula went first, talking about how embarrassing it must
have been to be 'showing off her new boobs' and her 'little girl
pussy'. I was standing beside her at the time wearing only a
towel when she turned to me.

"I guess you'll be showing a little more than that at the age of
thirteen, won't you, you naughty girl?" she said.

I blushed deeply. She was right of course and seemed tickled to
make a number of comments about my body's development. It was
mortifying. Before my strapping even started my Aunt got up close
behind me.

"Well Katherine, you're so spread open here, that I can see right
up into your vagina. Your little pink inner lips are opened wide!
And your tight little anus is completely exposed also. I'm sure
this must be very embarrassing for you."

She was more than right of course. I was horrified.

It didn't get any better an hour later after I'd been spanked and
had served my waiting time on the Pommel. My aunt decided she
would spread the cold cream on my bottom and, for the first time,
someone other than my Mom touched my naked body. Mom must have
told her how she did it because she was just the same, covering
first one buttock then the other and finally with a large dollop
of cream on her fingers very slowly up and then down the middle
crack of my bottom. She paused for a moment with her fingers
right over the sensitive crinkled center of my anus so widely
exposed by the Pommel's position. My whole body tensed up and
then, I gasped as she slowly but firmly slid her middle finger
right up my bottom as deeply as she could reach. I was shocked at
the sensation. The finger stayed in a moment then pulled slowly
from me in a slippery twisting motion. I was too stunned to say
anything.

Aunt Sharon was so excited over the effectiveness of our
punishment over the Pommel, she begged my Dad to make them one
and ship it across the country. He did of course, and my three
younger cousins soon found out what punishments were like in my
household.

I know, I've been babbling on and on and that I promised to talk
about the incident when I turned fourteen. I'm delaying the
inevitable I guess. It's without question the most embarrassing
moment of my life so far and one which has changed not only my
life but the life of numerous people, some of which I had never
before met.

It happened on a Saturday. I was fourteen and a half and, while I
was much better behaved, on this day I took completely leave of
my senses. I'd been hanging out at the mall with my friends Karen
and Sally. We had done a little shopping and a lot of browsing,
just cruising around looking for our friends and classmates, a
lot of whom were doing the same.

We were heading to the bus to take us home when it happened. The
three of us were working our way through the parking lot and I
was playing with my house keys in my hand as we walked. Suddenly,
I had a moment of craziness. As I walked, I let my home house key
drag along the car we were walking beside. It scraped along
leaving my mark on the full length of the car. Karen and Sally
were shocked at how bold it was. Their eyes wide and we all
stopped for a moment. I was stunned. What on earth had I done?
The scratch went along the length of the car. It was like an
out-of-body experience.

I turned to run. We had to get out of there but as I turned I
bumped head long into the chest of a man who had come right up
behind me. It was Reverend Paulson and his jaw had fallen open in
shock at the act of vandalism I'd just completed. Of all the
cars, I could have picked, I'd chosen the one of a person I
really liked, who knew me since I was little and who had actually
seen me do it.

"Katherine Parker, I can't describe how upset I am with you," he
said sadly. "Karen and Sally, you too."

My eyes filled with tears. What had I done?

"Alright, you'd better head home girls. I'm going to have to have
a word with your parents about this."

I couldn't stop crying all the way home. I was inconsolable. By
the time I got there my greeting was an angry looking Mom who
didn't say anything. Clearly Reverend Paulson had already called.

"Go to your room Katherine," my Mom instructed. "You can wait
there until your punishment later."

Still crying I headed to my room to bury my head in my pillows.

At about eight, my Mom came to fetch me to bring me to the
bathroom. Just like when I'd been little, she came back into the
room to scrub my bottom and my still lightly haired pussy. The
sponge was covered in soap but it was rough and scraped as it
passed up between my legs and along my pussy lips and over my
sensitive clit. I was made to turn around and bend way over with
my legs wide apart and my Mom spread my cheeks with one hand to
give my anus extra attention with the rough sponge. I dared not
protest.

Once I was wrapped in the towel, I was brought down to the
basement where my Dad was waiting.

He sat me down first on the couch and made me explain myself.
What was there to explain? I couldn't answer for my bizarre
behaviour but strangely, he understood.

"Katherine, sometimes people will do things not because they're
bad but because they were thought-less. You just didn't think.
Well, fixing the Reverend's car is going to cost over 500$ so
thoughtless or not, you can expect not only to get quite a
punishment tonight but also to help pay for the damage with
weekend work at the church for the rest of the school year."

"Yes, Sir," I sniffled. It was strange but I was somewhat
relieved that my actions would ultimately be forgiven.

Dad led me over to the Pommel and gently as always, fastened me
firmly in place and raised me up to leave me high and exposed to
the room. He and Mom headed upstairs to leave me with my thoughts
for twenty-eight minutes.

The doorbell rang about ten minutes into my waiting time. My
hands and feet pulled involuntarily against the bonds. While I
was no where close to the front door and not at all visible to
anyone who was not physically in the basement den, the idea that
strangers were in the house was highly disturbing to a naked and
spread open teenager. I could hear voices upstairs and I strained
to hear who had arrived to our door and what was being said.
Maybe it was just the paper boy, I thought. I sure hoped so.

The balance of my twenty-eight minutes passed quickly until I
heard the footsteps of my parents heading back down the stairs to
the den.

There was a pause with them standing behind me. I could feel the
eyes moving up and down my spread out body and I squirmed at the
sensation.

"Well this is quite something," said a woman's voice. Who was
it?! I didn't recognize the voice at all and this stranger was
seeing every part of my helpless body!

"Yes, I can see that this would put her into just the right
position for a good strapping." I knew that voice. It was
Reverend Paulson and now I knew the woman's voice. It was his
wife. This was a nightmare! For the first time in my young life,
my completely naked and exposed body was spread open and being
displayed to complete strangers outside of my family. My hands
and feet frantically pulled at the straps that held them even
though I knew it was hopeless. I burst into tears and sobbed at
the helpless feeling.

"We usually get started with her strapping now," my Dad said. I
felt the cool thick leather of his strap resting at the top of
the crack of my bottom.

The strapping was slow and deliberate. Fourteen searing strokes
from the top of my well rounded buttocks to the crease between my
bottom and my thighs where I would feel it for a day or two.

As usual, I was sobbing uncontrollably by the time it was done,
tears and snot and drool coming down from my face to the floor
below me.

As I came to my senses, I felt again the intense humiliation of
being exposed this dramatically to strangers. They could see
everything. As bad as it was, my Dad wasn't quite done.

"Katherine, you've done something particularly naughty today so
you can expect an addition to your punishment," he said.

A fresh burst of tears erupted from me. What would that be?
Hadn't I been punished enough?

My father walked in front of me and held a new strap in front of
me. This one was also black but it was very thin, less than an
inch across.

"You'll be getting a final fourteen strokes with the thin strap,"
he said.

I nodded my head. How much worse could it hurt? I figured. I
could see my father's feet moving around behind me.

He paused for a moment then laid the end of the thin strap along
just of my left thigh right at the point where it met my buttock.
The strap raised and I realized a heartbeat later how wrong I'd
been. The big strap was a searing pain but this was like laser
fire! The shriek sprung from my lips before I realize I'd cried
out. The strap wrapped around the top of my widespread leg coming
a centimeter from my pushed back pussy lips and reaching well
between my legs to the middle part of my thigh where, I would
discover, it would rub against the other leg in a terribly
uncomfortable sensation for a couple of days.

A second line of liquid fire struck down my thigh a couple of
inches from the first.

In all, there were five strokes down one thigh then Dad shifted
positions to my other side to leave another five strokes down the
other thigh.

I could count. There were four strokes left.

I could feel Dad move to my side, he was standing facing towards
the room from right near my armpit. What did this mean? Would he
strap my bare back?

The truth was much worse. With a wicked swing, the thin strap
came down at an angle, perfectly targeted to leave it's red line
of fire vertically along the inside curve of my widespread left
buttock ending at the top of my thigh again. This previously
unvisited white flesh caused me to howl in protest.

A move to my other side and another line of fire; this one
vertically along the inside curve of my right buttock.

There were two more strokes to go and my father had decided
before he started where they were destined.

The final two came quickly, one after the other. They were sharp,
searing strikes, with the tip of the strap moving at a blinding
speed. To my horror, they were straight down the middle of my
widespread crack. The strap connected perfectly at the top of my
crease and the tip, again perfectly targeted buried itself into
the center of my pink crinkled anus.

Despite the tight bonds, my hips flopped up and down as I tried
to pull my hands and feet out of the straps, desperate to reach
my tortured bottom hole. It was all in vain. I couldn't even hear
myself crying but I'm sure I was. I know I'd generated quite a
pool of tears below me when I finally calmed enough to realize
where I was and get a renewed sense of modesty at being naked in
front of the Reverend and his wife.

I had waiting time of course, twenty-eight minutes almost all of
which I used just trying to regain some semblance of composure.

As bad as it was, it wasn't the worst. When I was finally taken
off the Pommel, the Reverend and Mrs. Paulson were still there. I
was directed to stay standing in the middle of the room with my
hands on my head as I apologized to them and then was left
standing there as they picked up a conversation that had
obviously started upstairs.

I was mortified. Both the Reverend and Mrs. Paulson kept looking
over at my naked body. It was facing them directly and if
anything, I felt even more naked than when I was facing away from
them on the Pommel.

The Reverend was very impressed with my Dad's spare the rod and
spoil the child mentality and was enthusiastic about other
parents who had troubled teens who could benefit from the
experience. They talked about the subject for a good thirty
minutes during which I was left standing there, hands on head,
completely naked, completely obedient. A couple of times in the
conversation, this was pointed to by the Reverend. I was clearly
embarrassed at being so exposed in front of them, he said but my
newfound sense of obedience was able to overrule my natural
desire to cover myself.

Unfortunately, he was all too right.

My fate was sealed that evening. Two weeks later, I was in the
basement of the church on a Saturday night that was one of the
worst of my life. My Dad was using both Paula and myself as
object lessons. The Pommel wa there along with about fifteen or
twenty parents of troubled teens from the congregation. Paula and
I were stripped nude, put on the Pommel and strapped first with
the thick strap and then the horrible thin strap just like the
night after my vandalism adventure. We were left on the pommel
for ages while the parents were invited to inspect my Dad's work
by feeling the heat of our bottoms or the ridges left by the thin
strap along our thighs and buttocks.

My Dad took orders for Pommels from over ten families and that
turned into a second source of income for us.

Over the last two years, Paula and I have been in the church
basement several times for 'training sessions' where we're
exposed completely at our most vulnerable so other parents in the
neighborhood can see how to strap their kids over their Pommels.

That's where I am now. I'm sixteen now of course and Dad tends to
delay my 'later' spankings until a church session can be
scheduled. In fact, our Pommel hasn't been in our house for
almost a year. He just leaves it in the church basement.

My "B" sized boobs are bare and as I've developed, they've sprung
two very thick, very long pink nipples. They're hard now with
fear, as they often are just before a strapping. I'm firmly
fastened over the Pommel and behind me a small crowd of parents
and kids have arrived for the session. The kids are here as a
warning to what might happen to them if they act out. The parents
are here to see how it's done or some of them, I'm sure just to
enjoy the sight of a sixteen year old teen being stripped and
strapped over the Pommel. There's at least twenty people seeing
me get punished and even so, it's a punishment I deserve.

The Pommel has made me ever so obedient but there's always some
trouble a sixteen year old can get into. There's no doubt the
Pommel has made a big contribution to my improved behaviour since
I turned eight. And there's no doubt that if I have kids of my
own, that Grandpa will have to make a Pommel for my own house
years from now.