Fiction: Belt Whipped for Stealing (M/M, witnesses)

Another bit of short fiction from the mind of ChatGPT-4o and yours truly, in collaboration.

This one is M/M with one male and three female witnesses. Very long, very brutal, very embarrassing belt whipping. Not for the faint of heart!

Belt Whipped for Stealing

The man sat in the back of the police car, his heart racing, his palms sweating as the reality of his situation began to sink in. The stolen circular saw he’d swiped from Jack Thompson’s garage had been tracked easily when he attempted to sell it, and now he was being taken directly to Jack’s house to return the goods and to have a complaint sworn out against him. The officers—Officer Davis, a sharp-eyed woman with a no-nonsense demeanor, and her male partner—had made it clear that there would be no leniency unless his neighbour granted it.

As the car pulled into the driveway, the man’s eyes fell on Jack, a towering figure of muscle and authority, standing with his arms crossed. Beside him stood his wife, Karen, her arms folded and her face set in a cold, unforgiving expression. But it was Jack and Karen’s daughter, Emily, who caught the man’s attention. An older teen, she stood slightly behind her parents, her eyes fixed on him with an intensity that made his stomach twist. There was something unsettling in the way she looked at him—an eagerness that sent a fresh wave of shame crashing over him.

The officers stepped out first, and Officer Davis motioned for the man to follow. “Out of the car,” she commanded, her voice sharp.

The man’s legs felt like lead as he stepped out with his hands cuffed behind his back and was led to stand before Jack, Karen, and Emily. The stolen circular saw was placed in front of Jack, who stared at it before turning his gaze to the man.

Officer Davis stepped forward, glancing between the saw and Jack. “Mr. Thompson, is this your circular saw?” she asked, her voice steady and professional.

Jack’s eyes scanned the tool, his jaw tightening as he recognized it immediately. “Yeah, that’s mine,” he said gruffly, his gaze shifting to the man standing awkwardly beside the officers. “Where’d you find it?”

The male officer cleared his throat before speaking. “We apprehended your neighbor here trying to sell it online. He admitted to taking it from your garage.”

Jack’s eyes darkened as they fixed on the man. “Is that so?” His voice was low and dangerous.

The man couldn’t meet Jack’s gaze, his face pale as he muttered, “I… I wasn’t thinking, Jack. I’m sorry.”

Officer Davis nodded. “He confessed as soon as we confronted him. We wanted to bring it back to you directly before proceeding further. You can press charges if you’d like.”

Jack looked at the man, his expression hard. There was no sympathy in his eyes, only cold anger.

“You’ve got some nerve, stealing from me,” Jack said, his voice low and dangerous.

The man couldn’t bring himself to look at Jack. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his voice shaking. “It was a mistake…”

Officer Davis glanced at Jack, her tone calm but with an edge of amusement. “Mr. Thompson, do you want to press charges?”

Jack stared at the man for a long moment before shaking his head. “No,” he said slowly, “I’m not interested in having him sit in a jail cell. But I’m not letting him get away with it, either.”

The man looked up, confused. “What do you mean?”

Jack nodded toward the sturdy wooden sawhorse near the side of the driveway. “You’re going to bend over that sawhorse, and I’m going to give you a whipping with my belt, right out here, right now, on your bare ass. You take it, and we’ll call it even. If not, the police can take you in.”

The man’s heart dropped into his stomach as Jack’s words settled in. A whipping? Right here, right now? On my bare ass? His mind raced, desperately searching for a way out, but there wasn’t one. He looked at the sawhorse Jack had nodded toward, its rough, sturdy wood seeming impossibly tall and foreboding. The humiliation of it hit him first. Not just the pain—though he knew that would be unbearable—but the exposure. His mind spun as he pictured himself bent over, his pants pulled down, his bare backside on full display for Jack, his wife, his daughter… and the police officers.

His skin prickled with shame. What will they think of me? Emily, Jack’s daughter, was staring at him already, a curious gleam in her eye. The thought of her watching while he was punished like this, while he squirmed and cried out under the belt, made him feel sick with embarrassment. And the police—their stern faces would only be watching him, watching every humiliating second of his punishment, Officer Davis perhaps smirking in satisfaction. He could practically feel their eyes boring into him.

The humiliation was overwhelming, but what was the alternative? Jail? A record? His reputation would be ruined either way, but the thought of a court case, of being labeled a criminal, scared him even more. The man’s breath quickened, his palms clammy. The whipping would hurt, he knew that, but the shame of being stripped and whipped out here, in the driveway, in front of them all—that would linger.

Bare-assed. The phrase echoed in his mind. He could almost feel the belt now, could already imagine how the leather would bite into his skin, how he’d flinch and kick in a pathetic attempt to avoid the next strike, knowing that every movement would only expose him more. And they would be watching.

The man’s throat tightened as Jack’s words echoed in his head, his stomach churning with a mix of fear and humiliation. He could feel their eyes on him—Jack’s hard gaze, Karen’s disapproving stare, Emily’s unsettlingly eager expression. His mind raced for a way out, for something to stall what was about to happen.

He glanced over at the police officers, a desperate flicker of hope sparking. “Is this even legal?” His voice was shaky, almost pleading. “I mean… c-can he really do this?”

Officer Davis raised an eyebrow, her smirk returning. She exchanged a glance with her male partner, and then looked back at the man with a casual shrug. “Strictly speaking, no, not really,” she said, her tone almost indifferent. “But…” She crossed her arms, her smirk widening as she leaned in slightly. “If you consent to it, we’re certainly not going to stop it.”

Her words hit him like a slap, and the last remnants of hope slipped away. Consent? The thought stung, because it wasn’t like he had any real choice. Either he bent over that sawhorse and let Jack whip him like some sort of animal, or the police would arrest him and drag him into the system. He could see it in their eyes—there was no sympathy here. They wanted to see this handled right here, in Jack’s driveway, in a way that wouldn’t create more work for them.

The male officer stepped forward, his expression neutral but firm. “It’s up to you,” he said. “But if you’re asking us if we’re going to step in if you agree to take it? No. This can end right here, right now, after a good ass whipping.”

The man’s heart pounded. He felt trapped, cornered by the inevitability of it all. Jack was waiting, the belt around his waist, the heavy leather looking like it had seen plenty of use. Karen’s cold, unflinching stare made him feel smaller by the second. And Emily… Emily’s eyes hadn’t left him for a moment, watching with something that felt too much like excitement.

He swallowed hard, his mouth dry. His legs felt weak, and he knew there was no way out of this that didn’t end in him being broken, either by the law or by Jack’s belt. His eyes flickered toward the sawhorse again, and the humiliation washed over him in waves.

With a shaky breath, he muttered, “I’ll… I’ll take the whipping.” His voice barely rose above a whisper, and as soon as the words left his mouth, he felt the weight of what was about to happen settle deep in his chest.

Officer Davis smirked as she went behind Jack to release him from the handcuffs. “Good choice,” she said.

The man’s breath quickened as the weight of his decision pressed down on him. The thought of being whipped, bare-assed, in front of Jack, Karen, Emily, and the officers filled him with a deep, suffocating shame. His eyes flicked nervously between Karen and Emily—especially Emily, with that strange, eager glint in her eyes that unsettled him more than anything else. He couldn’t stand the idea of them watching. He swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat, and turned to Jack, his voice trembling with desperation.

“But Jack… please,” he stammered, his hands shaking as he gestured toward Karen and Emily. “C-can you at least send them away? Don’t… don’t make me do this in front of them. Please.”

For a moment, silence hung in the air, thick with tension. Jack’s eyes narrowed, his expression hardening as he looked the man up and down. Then, a cruel scoff escaped his lips, and he shook his head slowly, almost incredulously, as if the very suggestion had been an insult.

“No mercy,” Jack growled, his voice cold and unforgiving. “You don’t get to choose how this goes down. You stole from me, and you’re going to pay for it, right here, right now. Everyone stays.”

The man’s heart sank, the last flicker of hope extinguished by Jack’s words. His stomach churned as he realized there would be no reprieve from the humiliation. Emily’s gaze was still locked on him, and the knowledge that she would be there—watching every second, seeing him stripped of every last shred of dignity—made the situation unbearable. His legs felt weak, and he had to fight the urge to collapse under the weight of it all. He nodded weakly, too ashamed and too scared to say anything more, knowing full well that whatever shred of pride he had left was about to be stripped away—just like his pants.

Officer Davis smirked from the side, clearly enjoying the scene unfolding before her. “Looks like you’re out of luck,” she said lightly. “I’d suggest you get ready. The sooner you start, the sooner it’s over.”

The man glanced one last time at Karen and Emily, but their expressions hadn’t softened. Karen’s face was a cold mask of disapproval, while Emily… Emily’s eyes glistened with that unsettling curiosity that made his skin crawl. There was no escape from their presence. They would see everything.

Jack began to unbuckle his belt, the sound of the leather sliding free from his jeans making the man’s heart pound faster. “Get over there and bend over the sawhorse,” Jack ordered, his voice firm and commanding. “No hesitating.”

The man’s legs trembled as he walked over to the tall sawhorse, his heart pounding in his chest. The sturdy, wooden structure loomed in front of him, a constant reminder of what was about to happen. He hesitated for a moment, staring at it, feeling the eyes of everyone—Jack, Karen, Emily, the officers—on him. Jack’s presence behind him felt overwhelming, as though there was no escape from the shame that awaited.

“Get up over it,” Jack growled impatiently.

A small, fleeting hope crept into his mind, however. His pants were still up. Jack had not ordered them down. Maybe… maybe Jack had reconsidered. Maybe he wouldn’t make him bare himself after all. The man clung desperately to the thought, hoping against all odds that Jack might show some mercy. The feeling of his clothes still on him, the layers of fabric protecting him from the ultimate humiliation, gave him a brief sense of relief.

With shaky hands, the man awkwardly hoisted himself up, draping his body over the wide sawhorse. It was taller than he had anticipated, and as he positioned himself, his feet lifted off the ground, leaving his hands and legs dangling helplessly on either side. The pressure of the rough wood pressed into his stomach, making him feel even more vulnerable. His position left him at Jack’s mercy—his legs splayed, his backside raised, every square inch of it awaiting punishment.

But then Jack’s voice cut through the air, cold and commanding. “You know what’s next. Pants down.”

The man’s stomach twisted painfully as the fleeting hope shattered. He squeezed his eyes shut, his hands gripping the edges of the sawhorse in desperation. He had been foolish to think there would be any mercy. Of course, Jack would bare him. The shame washed over him in a fresh wave, and his face burned as he realized what was about to happen.

With a sigh, he made as if to climb back down off the sawhorse to lower his pants. His hands gripped the edges, his legs shifting, ready to hoist himself off.

But before he could make a move, Jack’s voice sliced through the air with a commanding bark.

“Stay where you are!” Jack’s tone left no room for defiance.

The man froze mid-motion, his breath catching in his throat. The power in Jack’s voice sent a shock through him, making it clear there would be no escape, no hesitation allowed. The man’s heart pounded as he settled back over the sawhorse, his body trembling with shame. He realized then that Jack wanted this—wanted him to lower his pants in this humiliating position, bent over, exposed, with no chance to hide. His legs dangled helplessly again, his hands gripping the wood as if it were the only thing keeping him from collapsing entirely.

“Do it now,” Jack growled. “You’ll stay right where you are and strip.”

The man’s face burned hot as he fumbled with his belt, the awkwardness of his position making it nearly impossible to manage with any dignity. His hands shook as he worked the buckle free, each tiny motion reminding him of how utterly trapped he was. Slowly, agonizingly, he tugged his pants down over his hips. The fabric clung to his legs, and his exposed skin prickled with the cool air as he wriggled to push them further down, squirming in place.

He paused for a moment, his pants tangled around his knees, his breathing heavy with the weight of his embarrassment. His bare legs were now fully visible, but his underpants still offered a sliver of protection—though he knew they wouldn’t for long.

The world seemed to tilt as Jack’s stern voice commanded again. “Underpants too.”

The man’s stomach dropped. With a deep, shuddering breath, he balanced himself with one hand as the other reached back awkwardly for the waistband of his underpants. His fingers trembled as he hooked them and began to slide them down. His body squirmed as the fabric slipped past his hips, exposing his bare backside to the unforgiving air.

“Right down. Below your knees.”

He kicked his legs slightly, trying to push them lower without getting down, his squirming only serving to worsen the humiliation. The man could feel his bare skin on full display as he struggled, flashes of his genitals visible as his underpants bunched around his thighs. He wriggled more, trying desperately to lower them just a bit more, past his knees. He was exposed now, laid bare in front of them all—Jack, Karen, Emily, and the officers.

His face flushed with shame as he heard the faintest sound—a small, sharp intake of breath—and his heart sank deeper, knowing it had come from Emily, her gaze never leaving him. The unsettling excitement in her eyes hadn’t dimmed, and it made the humiliation burn even hotter. Each wriggle, each tiny movement, only made the situation worse, his bare backside fully raised for all to see.

He could feel all their eyes on him—could feel how vulnerable he was, especially with Emily standing just feet away. The thought of her seeing him like this, naked and humiliated, made him want to disappear. As he bent over so acutely, his position left everything exposed—not just his backside, but glimpses of his most private areas as well. He squirmed slightly, already aware of how the movement caused brief flashes of his genitals and bum hole, the ultimate degradation.

The man’s hands continued fumbling clumsily with the waistband of his underpants, his body shifting and squirming atop the sawhorse. His pants were already tangled around his knees, but his underpants still clung stubbornly to his thighs, refusing to fall any further. He wriggled and kicked, his legs shaking as he tried to force the fabric down, but the awkward position made it nearly impossible. His squirming only added to the spectacle, his bare backside already exposed, with glimpses of his genitals flashing each time he kicked his legs in a desperate attempt to strip himself.

Suddenly, Jack’s voice cut through the tension, harsh and commanding. “You’d better hurry up, or I’ll double the whipping.”

The man froze, his breath catching in his throat as Jack continued, his tone growing colder. “If I have to lower those underpants myself, you’ll regret it.”

Panic surged through the man. He kicked his legs harder, his bare skin flashing as he fought to force the fabric down. His body writhed atop the sawhorse, his movements frantic, the fabric now caught just above his knees. The more he struggled, the more humiliating it became—his squirming only serving to expose more of himself in the process.

Karen scoffed from the side, her voice dripping with disdain. “He looks ridiculous.”

Emily’s eyes never left him, a small smile playing on her lips as she watched. “I think he knows how much worse it’ll be if Dad has to step in.”

Officer Davis stood there, arms crossed and an amused smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as she watched the man writhing awkwardly over the sawhorse. The air was filled with the soft rustling of fabric and the strained grunts of his effort to lower his underpants, the humiliation of it all obvious in every clumsy, desperate movement.

“Look at him,” she remarked casually, her tone carrying a sharp edge of mockery. “Squirming like a two-dollar whore trying to impress a client.”

The words stung, and the man’s body flushed with a fresh wave of embarrassment. He could feel his face burning, but there was no escaping the truth in what she said. He was squirming—helplessly wriggling his hips, kicking his legs in jerky motions, and arching his back to try and get the last of his underpants down. Every awkward twist of his body caused his bare skin to flash in the most degrading ways. His thighs flexed and tensed as he kicked, his genitals swinging freely between his legs, completely exposed to the eyes of everyone watching.

He could feel how utterly ridiculous he must have looked—his hands gripping the sawhorse tightly, his feet barely touching the ground, and his backside raised high in the air. Every squirm and shift of his hips made it worse, his movements unintentionally suggestive, almost obscene, as he struggled to obey Jack’s order. The way his legs twitched and kicked added to the pitiful display, each frantic movement making his exposed parts jolt and sway in a way that only deepened his shame.

From the sidelines, Karen’s lips curled in disgust, while Emily’s gaze remained locked on him, her eyes wide with a strange fascination that made the man’s stomach churn. Officer Davis’s words echoed in his mind as his hips bucked slightly, his bare ass wiggling in a desperate attempt to free himself from his underpants. He could feel his body betraying him, moving in a way that felt unintentionally lewd, each motion mimicking the kind of exaggerated, forced movements that Officer Davis had so cruelly likened him to.

Officer Davis leaned in more, her eyes gleaming with cruel amusement as the man continued to writhe desperately over the sawhorse, trying to drop his underpants while his body remained trapped in that humiliating position. Each time he squirmed, his legs kicked out awkwardly, his exposed skin flashing as he struggled to make the fabric drop lower.

The man’s heart raced in panic, his body twisted and bucked, his hips jerking back and forth as he tried to encourage them lower, the awkward position making it nearly impossible. He was running out of time.

Officer Davis smirked, her voice laced with mockery as she stepped closer, her words sharp and teasing. “Come on now, show us your bum hole a little more. You’re wriggling so much, you may as well give us a good look.”

The man’s face flushed with humiliation, his entire body going rigid for a moment as the weight of her words sank in. He could feel his cheeks burning, the shame of it nearly paralyzing him. But Jack’s threat loomed large, and he had no choice but to keep going. He kicked his legs harder, writhing in a frantic attempt to get the underpants down before Jack lost his patience.

Each movement made things worse. His legs kicked out, his hips twisting as he squirmed, unintentionally exposing himself further with every desperate wriggle. His bare backside was on full display, and every time he arched his back or bucked his hips, the humiliating glimpses of his most private parts flashed for everyone to see. Officer Davis’s taunts echoed in his ears, making him painfully aware of how much worse his efforts were making everything.

“That’s right,” she teased, her voice dripping with amusement. “Don’t be shy now. You’re giving us quite the show.”

The man’s breath came in ragged gasps, his entire body trembling with the sheer effort and shame of it all. Finally, with one last frantic kick, the underpants slipped down past his knees right down to his ankles, leaving him completely bared. He felt utterly exposed, his bare skin prickling under their gazes, his body trembling with both fear and humiliation as he awaited the inevitable punishment.

“Good,” Jack said coldly from behind him, the weight of the belt heavy in his hand. “Now stay still.”

Karen stepped forward, her arms crossed, her face filled with cold fury. She had been quietly fuming throughout the ordeal, but now, with the man completely vulnerable, completely at her mercy, her anger bubbled to the surface, sharp and unforgiving. She moved closer, her gaze sweeping over his helpless, exposed position, a cruel smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“Well, look at you now,” Karen sneered, her voice low and filled with contempt. “Bent over like a pathetic little thief, with your bare ass hanging out for everyone to see. You thought you could just steal from us? Thought you could sneak around and take what didn’t belong to you?” She shook her head, her eyes cold. “I don’t think so.”

The man squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out her words, but it was impossible. The shame burned deep, his face flushed red as Karen circled around him, her cruel gaze taking in every inch of his exposed body. He felt her eyes lingering on his most private areas, his stomach twisting with a mixture of humiliation and dread. There was no way to hide, no way to shield himself from her cutting words.

“You really thought you could get away with it, didn’t you?” Karen continued, her voice growing sharper. “But now, look where you are. Stripped bare in front of all of us, your backside raised up, just waiting for what’s coming. I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

The man squirmed slightly, his legs twitching as he tried to steady himself, but the movement only made his predicament worse. Each tiny shift caused his exposed body to wriggle, offering flashes of his genitals and bum to everyone watching. His stomach churned with shame, knowing that every squirm, every twitch, only made him look more helpless, more pathetic.

“Oh, you can’t even stay still, can you?” Karen’s voice turned mocking, a cruel laugh escaping her lips. “Squirming like a little worm, trying to get comfortable, but there’s no escaping it now. You’re going to take this punishment, and believe me, you deserve every single stroke.”

Karen’s gaze shifted, lingering on his most private areas, a cruel smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Well, isn’t this something,” she said, her voice dropping to a mocking tone. “Your little penis hanging down like that… pathetic. Your testicles swinging between your legs, completely on display for everyone. You must be so proud of yourself, showing off everything like this.”

The man’s face burned red with shame, his stomach twisting as her words dug into him. His body squirmed slightly, but the movement only made it worse, drawing attention to the very things he was desperate to hide.

“Oh, and look at that,” Karen continued, her voice turning even more cruel. “Every time you wriggle, you’re giving us a nice little glimpse of your bum hole. How humiliating. I bet you didn’t think we’d be staring right at that, did you?” She let out a cold, mirthless laugh. “Well, you can squirm all you like, but there’s no hiding it now.”

The man bit his lip, trying to stifle the groan of humiliation rising in his throat. His body trembled more, his legs twitching as he tried to steady himself on the sawhorse, but there was no escaping the humiliating truth of his position. Each small movement caused his genitals and bum to shift into view again, making the humiliation feel endless.

The man’s breath hitched in his throat, his body trembling as Karen leaned closer, her voice dropping to a cold, venomous whisper. “Do you know how furious I was when I found out someone stole from us? And then when I found out it was you of all people? You have no idea what you’ve brought on yourself. Jack’s going to make sure you remember this for a long, long time.”

She straightened up, her eyes never leaving his exposed backside. “I wonder if you’re even thinking about the pain right now,” she said, her voice taunting. “Or are you just humiliated beyond belief? Knowing we can see every inch of you? Your little cock and balls, your asshole. Knowing you’re bare and helpless, waiting for the punishment that’s coming?”

The man’s face burned hotter, his shame reaching a fever pitch. He could feel the weight of her words sinking into him, each one deepening the humiliation that already consumed him. Karen’s scolding was relentless, her anger and cruelty wrapping around him like a vise, tightening with every second he remained exposed.

“Well, don’t worry,” Karen added, stepping back slightly, her voice hard and cruel. “You won’t be thinking about how embarrassed you are for long. Once Jack starts, all you’ll be able to think about is the pain. And believe me, you’re going to feel every bit of it.”

She turned to Jack, nodding once, her eyes filled with a mix of satisfaction and fury. “Make sure he gets what’s coming to him. Don’t hold back.”

“One hundred strokes,” Jack growled, his voice as cold and unforgiving as stone.

The man’s stomach twisted into knots. One hundred strokes? He tried to wrap his mind around it, but the sheer number made his breath catch in his throat. His legs twitched instinctively, but the sawhorse kept him pinned in place, completely vulnerable to whatever Jack had planned. The cool air against his bare skin made the situation all the more real, and the weight of the punishment loomed over him like a storm.

From behind him, the male officer let out a low, impressed whistle, cutting through the silence. “Whew,” he muttered, shaking his head slightly. “One hundred, huh? That’s no joke.”

The sound of the whistle only deepened the man’s sense of dread, the casual reaction from the officer serving as a reminder that no one here was on his side. No one would stop this. They were all watching, waiting for the punishment to begin, and there was nothing he could do to escape it.

Officer Davis, standing beside her partner, crossed her arms, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “Looks like you’ve really got it coming, doesn’t it?” she said lightly, her eyes flicking over the man’s exposed form with a mixture of amusement and approval. “One hundred strokes… you won’t be sitting for a week.”

Without another word, Jack raised the belt and brought it down with a loud crack that seemed to echo in the driveway. The man let out a sharp gasp, his body jerking from the sudden, biting pain. The leather cut across his bare backside with a searing intensity, leaving a deep stripe of fire in its wake. But before he could even catch his breath, Jack’s next strike landed with equal force.

Crack!

The second stroke was harder than the first, the sting building rapidly as the man squirmed, trying to stay still, but the pain only grew.

Crack!

The third stroke brought a strangled groan from his throat. He couldn’t control his body, which instinctively tried to pull away from the punishment, but his high, bent-over position left him completely helpless. His legs twitched and kicked slightly, the movement only making his humiliation worse, as every flinch seemed to expose him even more.

Jack’s belt came down again, without hesitation, each strike hitting its mark with a loud, punishing crack that echoed through the driveway.

By the tenth stroke, the man’s breath was coming in ragged gasps, his skin already reddening and burning from the relentless onslaught. Jack paused briefly, his voice steady, but firm. “That’s ten,” he said flatly, before immediately raising the belt again.

The man’s body twitched involuntarily as the next round of strokes began, the rhythm quick and merciless. Crack! Crack! Each stroke seemed to land harder than the last, the sharp bite of the leather searing across his raw, welted skin. The pain grew with every strike, spreading like fire through his body, but there was no reprieve, no moment to recover before the next stroke fell.

By the time they reached twenty, the man was already writhing in place, his body squirming helplessly as he tried to endure the punishment. His legs kicked weakly beneath him, each movement exposing flashes of his most private areas as he struggled to stay still. He gritted his teeth, trying to stifle the groans of pain, but each strike made it harder to stay silent.

Jack didn’t stop. His strikes were brutal and efficient, the belt cracking through the air with unrelenting force. The man’s bare backside was a mess of angry red welts by the time the thirtieth stroke landed, the pain almost unbearable. Every inch of his skin burned as the leather bit into him again and again.

“That’s thirty,” Jack announced, his voice as calm as ever, showing no sign of slowing down.

The belt came down again, harder, and then again, each strike landing with punishing force. The man’s body squirmed under the blows, his backside quickly turning red with the burning welts left by the belt. His movements—kicking his legs, shifting his hips—only made his exposure worse, offering more glimpses from all angles of his genitals and bum hole as he writhed in pain. He could hear Karen’s disapproving huffs, but worse was the quiet, breathy excitement in Emily’s voice.

“Keep going, Dad,” Emily said softly, her tone thick with something unsettling, something that made the man’s shame deepen. She hadn’t looked away once, watching intently as the man kicked and squirmed, each movement offering her another humiliating glimpse.

The man’s breath hitched as the next ten strokes began, the searing pain intensifying with each lash. His body writhed uncontrollably now, his legs kicking out in desperation, but there was no escape from the punishment. His hands clutched at the sawhorse, trying to steady himself, but the pain overwhelmed him, leaving him sobbing quietly with each fresh blow.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Jack’s strikes were relentless. Forty strokes in, the man was openly crying, his body trembling as the pain reached a fever pitch. The welts across his backside had deepened, turning a darker, angrier shade of red with every lash. The burning sting radiated through his entire body, his muscles tensing with each brutal strike.

“That’s forty,” Jack said, his voice still flat, still cold.

The man could hardly breathe, each ragged gasp filled with a mixture of pain and shame. His sobs came in quiet, broken whimpers as he squirmed against the sawhorse, his legs twitching helplessly. He no longer cared about the humiliation, the exposure—his mind could only focus on the pain that was building with every lash.

Through his sobs, he heard Officer Davis’s voice. “You’re learning your lesson now, aren’t you?” she said, her voice filled with approval.

Karen’s voice was just as cold. “This is what happens when you steal from someone. You deserve every bit of this.”

But it was Emily’s quiet, eager whisper that cut through the man’s pain. “He’s squirming so much,” she said, almost to herself, her gaze glued to the humiliating glimpses of the man’s exposed body as he writhed under her father’s belt. The knowledge that she was watching him so closely, seeing him so vulnerable, made the shame unbearable.

Jack paused only briefly, his voice like a growl. “Say it. Say you’ll never steal again.”

“I’ll never steal again,” the man choked out, his voice shaky, barely audible through his sobs.

Jack brought the belt down again, harder than before. “Louder. Say it like you mean it.”

“I’ll never steal again!” the man cried, his voice cracking as the belt lashed his already raw skin. “I’ll never, ever steal again! I swear!”

Fifty strokes. Sixty strokes. Each crack of the belt felt like it was ripping through his skin, the pain so intense he could hardly think. Jack gave no quarter, no mercy, as the belt continued to land with unrelenting force. The man’s sobs had turned into choked, desperate cries as the punishment wore on, his body trembling with the effort to stay in place.

“That’s seventy,” Jack announced. His voice remained calm, even as the man’s body shuddered with every fresh stroke.

By the time Jack reached eighty, the man was broken, his body a mess of red, welted skin, each movement sending fresh waves of agony through him. His legs kicked weakly, his body writhing uncontrollably as Jack’s belt continued to fall. His breath came in ragged, uneven gasps, each one filled with the knowledge that there were still more strokes to come.

Crack!

“Ninety,” Jack said, his voice devoid of emotion.

The man’s sobs were quieter now, more desperate. He was beyond exhausted, his body trembling, unable to process the pain anymore. His backside felt raw, welted beyond recognition, every nerve screaming with the burning sting of the belt. He wanted it to stop—wanted to beg for mercy—but he knew Jack wasn’t done yet.

Crack!

The final ten strokes came quickly, each one landing with the same brutal force as the first. The man’s body convulsed with every strike, but he was too weak to kick or struggle anymore. He hung limply over the sawhorse, his sobs barely audible, his mind consumed by the pain that seemed endless.

“One hundred,” Jack said flatly, finally lowering the belt. His voice echoed in the man’s ears, but the man barely heard it. He was too far gone, his body trembling, his breath ragged and broken. The whipping was over, but the humiliation and pain would stay with him long after.

His skin was slick with sweat, his bare backside an angry sea of red welts and bruises. Each breath he took was a struggle, ragged and uneven, his lungs burning from the effort. The searing pain radiated through every nerve in his body, throbbing with each small movement he made. He could feel the weight of his humiliation bearing down on him even more heavily than the physical agony.

Jack, having finished the hundred strokes, stood tall behind him, his belt now coiled loosely in his hand. He surveyed the man’s broken form for a moment, as if making sure the lesson had truly sunk in. There was no trace of sympathy in his gaze, only cold, hard satisfaction.

Officer Davis stepped forward, her boots crunching on the gravel as she approached Jack. “Looks like he learned his lesson,” she said, her voice still carrying that edge of amusement. She cast a glance at the man’s raw, welted backside before smirking slightly. “I doubt he’ll be stealing anything again.”

The male officer nodded in agreement, his expression neutral. “Handled swiftly. No paperwork necessary.”

The man’s throat tightened as he heard their words. The officers had been watching the entire time, and now they were simply discussing him like a piece of property that had been dealt with. The shame of it all was unbearable. He wanted to sink into the ground, to disappear from their judgmental eyes.

Jack finally stepped back from the sawhorse, sliding his belt back through the loops of his jeans with deliberate slowness. “You’ll remember this, I’m sure,” Jack said, his voice cold and steady. “If I catch you near my property again—if I even see you looking in the direction of my garage—you’ll get worse.”

The man could only nod weakly, too exhausted and broken to respond with words. His body trembled with each breath, the pain overwhelming, but the weight of Jack’s threat hung over him like a dark cloud.

Karen stepped closer, her arms still crossed tightly over her chest. Her face was a mask of stern disapproval, and she didn’t hide the disdain in her voice. “You got off easy,” she said coldly. “Don’t think we’ll forget what you did.”

The man’s head hung low, his face burning with shame. He couldn’t bear to meet Karen’s eyes, couldn’t face the weight of her disapproval. But it was Emily’s presence that gnawed at him most. He could feel her standing just behind her mother, her eyes still lingering on him with that same unnerving intensity. She hadn’t said a word throughout the entire ordeal, but her silence had spoken volumes.

“Get up, and get those pants back up,” Jack ordered.

The sawhorse felt impossibly tall as the man tried to muster the strength to lift himself off it. He could hardly move, the pain overwhelming him, but staying there was even worse. His humiliation wasn’t complete until he restored his dignity—or what little he had left.

With great effort, the man slowly began to push himself off the sawhorse, his body trembling with every movement. As he lifted his torso, the pain in his backside flared, making him wince and groan softly, but it wasn’t just the pain that made his heart race—it was the knowledge that, in this moment, his humiliation would reach its peak.

His bare backside, already exposed, wasn’t the worst of it. No, the worst part was what would come next, as he lowered himself down and his genitals would come fully into view. There was no way to avoid it. The position he was in left him no choice but to reveal himself entirely, full on, to the onlookers. The shame of it made his skin prickle, his face burning with embarrassment.

His legs shook as they touched the ground, and he could feel the cool air on every inch of his exposed flesh. As he lowered himself awkwardly from the sawhorse, the movement caused his body to shift in ways he couldn’t control, offering glimpses of his genitals to everyone watching.

He could feel their eyes on him, most painfully aware of Emily’s gaze. That unsettling eagerness he had sensed earlier still lingered in the air, and knowing she was witnessing every humiliating second of this made the man’s shame unbearable. His legs were unsteady, his face flushed as he clumsily reached for his underpants, still bunched around his knees. His fingers fumbled weakly with the waistband, the pain making each movement feel like a monumental task.

Slowly, painfully, he began to pull them up, his bare backside still throbbing, each tug on the fabric sending fresh waves of pain through his body. He couldn’t stop squirming as he tried to restore his dignity, but his body betrayed him with each awkward movement. His hands shook as he finally pulled the underpants over his raw skin, the fabric rubbing uncomfortably against the welted marks.

He winced, biting his lip to keep from groaning out loud as the tight waistband pressed into his tender flesh. With his underpants finally back in place, he felt a small, fleeting sense of relief, but the humiliation still clung to him like a suffocating fog. His face burned with shame as he bent awkwardly to tug his pants up from around his ankles.

The process felt agonizingly slow. His legs shook as he pulled his pants over his hips, the stiff fabric scraping against his welted skin, making him wince with each movement. He finally fastened them, his hands trembling as he buckled his belt again. The weight of humiliation was almost too much to bear, his chest tightening as he finally stood, fully clothed again, but no less exposed.

He dared not meet the eyes of the onlookers. He could still feel Emily’s gaze lingering, the unsettling curiosity that had burned in her eyes now seared into his mind. The silence around him was deafening, his heart pounding in his ears as he waited for someone to speak, to dismiss him, to allow him to leave this place where his dignity had been stripped from him piece by piece.

Jack stood a few feet away, his expression hard and unreadable, the belt restored to around his waist. The man could feel the weight of his judgment, his punishment hanging in the air. He had taken his one hundred strokes, but the humiliation of lowering himself, bare and broken, in front of them all would haunt him just as much as the pain itself.

“Now get out of here,” Jack growled, his voice final, leaving no room for hesitation.

The man didn’t need to be told twice. He limped away, his legs shaky, the pain from the whipping still burning, but worse than the pain was the deep, aching shame that followed him, knowing they had seen everything, knowing he could never forget the humiliation of this moment.

Officer Davis nodded in satisfaction. “That should do it. I don’t think we’ll have any more trouble from him.”

Karen, her arms still crossed, looked at the receding man with cold disdain and called after him. “You’re lucky Jack gave you this option,” she said. “But don’t think for a second we’ll forget this.”

The man paused and nodded weakly, his face burning with shame. He continued limping away, the pain in his backside a constant reminder of the whipping, but worse than the physical pain was the knowledge that Emily and the others had watched it all, their eyes lingering on his most private, humiliating moments. This was a punishment he would never forget.