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. We 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 was 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.