The Wide Leather Belt

(An account of painful parts in faraway parts.)

(As usual, this is a record of an actual event. The names are fictional but the persons and places are real. The young lady who confided this to me during the course of a discussion that constituted part of some psychological research studies I was undertaking on fetishes in sex and how they arose in individual cases, was from what is generally called a 'middle class' background of European extraction and happily married to a minor diplomat with excellent prospects.)

In the late 1960s I accompanied James, my husband of only six months, on a business trip the Philippines and elsewhere. He was a delegate to a series of major conferences in several countries and I was, at our own expense, able to travel with him. We had forgone a proper honeymoon – taking only a weekend away after our wedding – so that this journey could be a combined business, overseas travel and belated honeymoon trip.

The first stop was Manila and, having never travelled overseas before, I was full of excitement as with my brand new passport we set off on what was for me a month-long voyage of discovery. Discovery! Well, some of the things that I was about to discover really opened my eyes in more ways than one!

Manila was at the time still in the grips of martial law and the delegates and their spouses were all well briefed both prior to departure and upon arrival of the constraints that this placed upon free movement and instructed on what one was able to do and the simple precautions that should – indeed must- be taken to avoid un-necessary trouble with the authorities while there. I, as I think every else, took note of all this but as it seemed so unreal and we had never had any previous experience of such matters, we somewhat naively took much of it with a grain of salt on the basis that surly we would be recognised as visitors and not bothered by such local official nonsense!

James, who had frequently travelled in such places before, repeatedly cautioned me to be careful what I did and where I went while he was at the various meetings, but in the excitement of seeing so many new things (and the shopping experiences!) it was very easy to forget the unusual rules and regulations.

For the first few days of our stay I ventured out with either James or in the company of several of the other wives of the conference delegates. We explored areas quite close to the hotel and, after sharing notes with other people at the hotel, found many places where shopping and/or other entertainment was of immense interest. By the fifth and penultimate day I felt confident to return alone to one part of the city where I had seen several things that I wanted to purchase, including some things for James, who had not had much time to get out and take advantage of the shopping or the sights.

Armed with my little street map I found my way to the shops and spent some hours absorbed in browsing around and making some very good purchases. Knowing that we were attending a final conference dinner that evening, I started back to the hotel about mid afternoon but in deviating to look at other shops and small side streets, I lost my bearings a bit and had to back-track to find my way; making me a bit later than hoped getting back to the hotel.

Security around the hotel was quite heavy, with so many visiting international delegates there, and as I hurried along the footpath several things happened in quick succession that caused me to stop thinking security and start reacting as I would have back home. First I accidentally dropped one of the parcels that I was carrying. In bending to pick this up I let go of the map that I was carrying and another paper that, if I had lost them would have meant that I might have difficulty finding my way back to the hotel and then getting inside. In my fluster I then drew the attention of the security guards by gathering up my packages in an untidy bundle and running down the road after the papers that were just blowing annoyingly out of reach as I chased them.

This totally violated the main cardinal rules that I – we all - had had drummed into us; don't draw un-necessary attention to yourself and don't run. If you drop something and it blows away just watch where it goes and walk to retrieve it when it inevitably comes to rest against a building or something. If you run the various security forces are likely to shoot first and not even bother to ask questions later. By flustering and then running with a bundle of unidentifiable packages I attracted the very close attention of a number of armed guards who, thankfully, did not shoot because I was very close to them, but who immediately brought me to a halt and surrounded me with their guns pointing directly at my body.

I stood, petrified, a petite twenty-three year old woman surrounded by what looked like enough firepower to arrest a bus load of people. The guards did not seem to understand too much English as I tried to explain what I was doing but they made it perfectly clear that I was to carefully put all my parcels on the ground and lay beside them face down on the footpath with my arms extended. One of the guards intimately 'frisked' me while the rest kept their guns pointed in case I moved. They then opened my handbag and extracted my passport which they spent some time examining. Finally I was instructed to stand, with my hands on my head, as they closely compared me with my passport details and photograph. I was shaking with fear and crying as I stood there helpless, wondering what was going to happen.

Finally one of the guards, who spoke passable English, asked me where I was staying. I stammered out the name of the hotel and was asked for the hotel documents that were issued to enable me to get past the door. Of course, they were part of the papers that had blown away from me and I hopelessly tried to point to where I had last seen them heading down the road. They laughed and it was quite clear that, even if they believed me – and I could not be sure if they did or didn't – they were not in any mood to just let me go. They made it clear that I was going to be arrested and that the penalties for breaking the law (it was not clear what law but I was not going to argue with their guns) and wasting their time were such that any chance of my being around the next day to leave with James was very remote.

As I stood there I saw James walking back to the hotel with several other delegates of the conference. Without thinking I pointed and yelled out to him while trying to indicate to the guards that he was my husband and that he would be able to explain everything. This was the very last thing I might have done as they immediately thought that I was trying to warn him of some danger and that it was some sort of trap. I was pushed to the ground and two of the guards went over to the party that James was with. Fortunately they were walking with their own security personnel and were able to produce their, official, passports and other documents to the satisfaction of the guards. James was brought over to where I was laying and asked to identify me while, finally, one of the other guards retrieved my papers from where they had come to rest just down the street.

After opening all my parcels and showing that they contained nothing more incriminating than some rather nice lingerie and other clothing plus some small gifts, I was permitted to stand and hold onto James who still seemed rather worried about the situation that we were in. It seemed that, as James had a degree of diplomatic protection by virtue of his passport, I did not – holding only an ordinary one – and the police officer wanted to charge me with something and ensure that I was punished for my misbehaviour. I sort of figured out that they had only might and not right on their side and were more interested in making some amusement for themselves, but also realised that we have no grounds to prevent that happening – regardless of how unjust it may seem to us.

Finally James convinced the officers that I only a young lady who had never before travelled and who was not aware of the local regulations and was very sorry for wasting their time and, because he had to attend an official function with me that evening we needed to return to the hotel to get ready. He asked very politely if we might be permitted to go. The senior officer at the scene finally agreed that we could return to the hotel but insisted that the matter was not over and that he was going to accompany us.

Very embarrassed and rather dishevelled from the whole experience I walked, as sedately as I could, back to the hotel with James and the police (or what ever they were) officer. We were admitted and everyone looked at us as we went up to the floor where our room was. I had thought that, having made sure that we had returned to the room, the officer would just leave us, but, after having spoken to the floor security staff (whom he appeared to outrank) he followed us into the room and sat down heavily on one of the chairs.

He spoke, in remarkable good English compared with what I had heard out on the street, and made it very clear that, having avoided being taken to the police headquarters where I would have undoubtedly, and without any form of trial, been summarily severely punished for my indiscretions, he had been very lenient towards me and allowed me to come back to the hotel. However, I was not going to be permitted to get away without some reminder of my wrongdoing and accordingly he was going to strap me with the wide belt from his uniform. I was twenty-three years old so I would get twenty-three strokes. I was to undress immediately and any further wasting of his time would result in my not being let off so lightly.

Although we had an idea that the officer was only trying to satisfy his own ego in a perverted manner and probably had no right to do what he was proposing, it was also clear that neither of us would be going to the big final reception that evening or leaving the country the next day if we did not at least give in to some extent to these demands. Although I may well have managed to escape any sort of punishment it may have taken days or weeks to sort it out and get away. James tried to help me by suggesting that, as his wife, I had disregarded what he had instructed me, and the surely it was his job to discipline me and not the police officer's. The officer agreed that James should make sure that I did as he told me and that he should also punish me – but continued to insist that he also had his job to do and was not going to be talked out of carrying out his duty.

Finally they reached a compromise – of sorts – whereby James would administer twelve strokes and the officer twelve (now twenty-four in view of the fact that the office thought I was being let off lightly) and that the officer would watch the James did the job properly – just in case he thought that he might try and lessen my punishment by delivering softer blows.

Time was getting on and it was going to take a while to carry out this bizarre punishment and get me freshened up to go out to the function. Also the officer was getting rather impatient and it was apparent that if we did not stop trying to negotiate the situation he would just take me off to his headquarters. James looked at me and I just nodded dumbly between sobs of fear and despair.

The officer stood up and glared at me. "Strip". He said, as he unfastened the broad belt from across his chest. I started to undress, slowly, carefully trying to avoid his gaze and methodically folding each garment as I went. "Quickly, or I will do it for you". He barked, and I quickly stripped down to my bra and panties. "Everything". He snapped and as I turned to James with a pleading face he shrugged, "I will take you to headquarters, just as you are, if you don't co-operate – now". James nodded, sadly, and I turned my back on the guard and removed the remaining garments.

"Lay on your back on the bed and grip the rails of the bed head with your hands", the guard instructed. I stared, having expected to be told to bend over the bed and hide some of my tears as well as my private parts. "Avoids hitting your back or damaging you kidneys if you happen to move", he said as if by way of a justification. I lay on one side of the big bed and did as he had instructed – feeling very exposed and quite sick. He then told James to kneel alongside my head and to hold my legs back over my head so that my bottom and backs of my upper legs were presented as a perfect target to the strap.

"I will administer the first six to show you how. You will then do your twelve. If that is satisfactory I will the last six, or more if you do not do the job to my satisfaction". He smiled at James. Without warning the first of the stinging blows crashed across the taught skin just where the tops of my legs met my bottom. I shrieked and jerked my legs right out of James' grip and flat on to the bed. The officer just glared at me, and James. "Between you, you had better keep them up or I will deliver the blows across the tops of your legs". He raised the hard belt again and I quickly raised me legs back over my head as James gripped them tighter. Just in time because the belt descended again and cracked loudly right across my bottom – curling around the side of by cheek as it left a broad band of fire. I managed to keep my legs up this time but involuntarily moved slightly to one side from the pain where the curling tip of the belt had landed. The belt again thundered down and, because I had moved a bit, it only hit half of my bottom with that cruel tip curving in and just hitting the delicate folds of skin around the entrance to my vagina. I screamed in pain and again jerked my legs stiff down along the bed. Before I had time to think the belt flew down for the forth time, right across the tops of the front of my legs just blow my sex.

I had received just four strokes and was reduced to a shuddering and tear soaked mess lying rigid on the bed. James pleaded with the officer who again shrugged and just said that it was clear that I had not received enough discipline in the past and I was probably long overdue for this. I slowly lifted my legs again, feeling the bruised flesh tighten and protest in the process. Crack. I yelped but James managed to hold my in place. I held my breath. Crack. I cried out again and did not even register that the first six were finished.

I felt James let go of my legs and move. Immediately the Guard took his place and he gripped my ankles in a way that made it clear that I would not be moving for a while. "Remember", the officer said to James, "Just as hard as I did or I will add more to her punishment". James looked at me doubtfully but all I could do was to say, between gritted teeth, you had better do as he says".

The first of James' strokes was a bit off track and caught me on the back of the legs. Trying to not make the same mistake again with the next stroke, James almost missed my bottom altogether and only the edge of the belt hit me – the main part of it striking the bed with a dull thump. "I told you – the same as me", snarled the office – apparently believing that James was trying to spare me, "That one does not count and will add to the final strokes I give her".

James addressed the officer, "Can I have her bend over that chair? I am sure that I will be better able to carry out the punishment that way". 'Suit yourself", was the reply, "Just get on with it".

With some difficulty I sat up and walked, stiff-legged, to the armchair where the officer pulled me over the back until I was on tip toe and held my arms down onto the seat.

James took his place and proceeded to apply the remaining of his ten strokes hard across my now burning bottom and the upper legs. One that hit right on the join of my legs resulted in a far louder than usual scream and I was sure that the whole hotel must be aware of what was happening. I could not easily stand up as James handed the strap back to the Officer and in any event I was quite determined that he was not going to see either my exposed body or my distress again if I could help it.

The officer then proceeded to walk behind me and, with the toe of his boot, moved my feet so that they were placed to the outside of the back legs of the chair. I could feel the skin on my bottom stretch tighter but, more upsetting, I could feel the cool draft moving between my spread legs and around my vagina that was still smarting from the blow that it had received earlier.

I waited and stiffened when I heard the hiss as the bet descended from the last few of the Officer's blows. I had lost track of how many more I was to receive and was resigned to the fact that I was not going to avoid this trial and must try and take it as stolidly as I could. I was not prepared for the pain of that hit as it landed right across the taught cheeks. Far harder than James and. With the chair unrelenting beneath me, there was not recoiling from the blow. I inwardly cursed James for putting in this position while involuntarily let out an almost silent scream in the form of a grunt as the wind was driven out of me. I gasped and sobbed as I regained my breath.

"That's what I expected of you – and that's why I put her on the bed before. I will allow your twelve to count as six and the half stoke you gave her does not count at all. She has twelve more to come from me – and no arguments", he added as I heard James start to protest. 'Now, hold her still, we have mucked around for long enough".

The ordeal continued rapidly as the strokes fell with precision and unrelenting force:

Crack. Hiss of breath and choked scream. Crack. This time on the top of the legs. Shriek of pain. Crack. On the top my bottom where only one of James' 'lighter' strokes had fallen. A loud cry. Crack. Wrapped around the off side of the cheeks and digging into the soft flesh. I yelped again Crack. Almost all on the other cheek and again flicking at me exposed sex. An uncontrolled scream Crack. I almost jerked out of James' grip as a tremendous blow hit right across the underside of my cheeks. I hissed and screamed and panted with the stinging pain.

There was a pause and I sensed the Officer walking behind me. Then, without warning a stinging blow seemed to flick against my roasting backside. I sobbed, almost unable to summon up the strength to cry out loud again. Crack. He was hitting from the other side and this one curled round the previously untouched side of a cheek. Sob. Crack. Another one that curled into my sex and awoke my emotions to the extent that I was able to scream and kick my legs with the pain. Crack. The same stroke again and I totally lost control as I kicked and struggled against James' grip and almost knocked the wind out of myself in so doing. Crack. Crack. Two rapid and extraordinarily hard blows. One across the centre of my bottom the other the tops of my legs. I clasped with the pain as James whispered that it was all over. I went to stand but was so stiff and sore I decided to stay where I was for a minute – even though that in itself was uncomfortable. Besides I had no intention of giving the officer any more of a sideshow.

I heard the Officer replacing his belt and move towards the door saying as he went, to me, "let that be a lesson in behaviour to you", and to James, "She needs that more often and then she will turn into a good and obedient wife. She is very attractive physically but needs to be taught how to behave like a true wife to a man like you". He went out and the door shut. In the corridor I could hear him talking and laughing with the floor security guards who had obviously been standing outside listening to everything. Even through the pain and humiliation I felt that I would be too embarrassed to ever go out that door again. But, that was, regrettably, just we had to do, in less than two hours time.