Disclaimers in part one, under 18 shame shame, go tell your parents. 

Feed back is always welcome. 

The woodshed was a dark and dusty building out back of the house, cords of wood were stored there, as well as saws, axes, wedges, and various hatchets. The two features that made the building a feared part of the lives of the boys and Jenny while they were growling up were the saw horse and the razor strop. The saw horse sat next to the old chopping stump, it was useful for bending a miscreant over, to get a better swing and then razor strop that hung on the back of the door.

The strop was old, passed on to Ben by his father, when Adam was born. Four inches wide and a quarter of an inch thick, the oiled leather, a bit thinner in the middle from years of actually sharpening a razor. It was three and a half feet long, and had not been used on a razor in over 50 years. As a tool of discipline, it had brought many a sobbing child to new heights of pain and understanding as they promised perfect behavior for the rest of time if only the whipping would stop.

Ben did not employ the strop very often, he preferred his hand of a belt for most things, and of course Jenny's hair brush. It was only when the misdeed resulted in the actual injury of another (which is why Jenny had not gotten it for shooting the house, as she didn't hurt anyone) that the culprit was marched to the woodshed and stropped. This created a two fold effect, first they were well punished for their misdeed with their poor bottoms paying the price, and second the guilt built up within them from actually having caused another harm was relieved, purged from them in a few minutes of intensity. 

It was into that dark dusty place, that Ben marched his two youngest sons. Each boy feeling the terror filling them as the little shed grew in their eyes.

The boys had been in the barn doing cleaning out stalls, as Jenny came out of the house. As boy will do, the work became a bit of play. Joe and Jamey started tossing pitchforks back and forth in the straw. Toss the pitchfork across into the far stall, then run over and see if one could clean that stall faster than the other one, then toss them again to the next set of stalls. It was a very silly game, but one that resulted in a clean barn and glistening muscled young men. 

Joe tossed his fork in a perfect arch at the same moment Jamey tossed his. They crossed in the middle, and each landed in the next stall, the boys scrambling after them amid much laughing as they bumped into each other trying to trip the other one. The old straw and manure flew into the wheelbarrows, as they raced. Then another toss, Joe's fork flew high and Jamey's flew low. The tosses would have been perfect but for one little problem. Jenny choose that moment to come running into the barn full tilt, right into the path of the forks. 

Jenny screamed out as the pitchforks stabbed into her little body, Joe's caught her in the arm while Jamey's got her thigh. The next few minutes went by in chaos, Jenny's scream bringing Ben, Adam and Hoss running. Joe and Jamey were already by their sister, pale as ghosts.

"WHAT HAPPENED?" Ben roared as he charged into the barn. He immediately went to Jenny kneeling down where she lay. "Jenny?" his voice suddenly soft and gentle. 

"I’m okay Pa," Jenny spoke in a soft voice, "just startled me is all." She made a move to get up from the floor.

Hoss moved in quickly, "You just stay right where you are short shanks" he rumbled in his deep voice, cradling his little sister against his massive body. Ben and Adam checked the placement of the pitchforks. As Joe and Jamey talked over each other, explaining about the game and what had happen.

"QUIET!!" Ben roared, "You two, against the wall NOW!" Ben stabbed a finger at the boys then at the wall. Joe and Jamey tripped over themselves trying to get to the wall fast enough, anything to be out of the terrible glare of their father.

Once the miscreants were in place Ben turned back to Adam who was checking the placement of the pitchforks. "Well Adam?" He asked.

Adam looked up at Ben and nodded. "They can be removed without harm, Jenny is a very lucky little girl, the pitchfork in her arm only grazed her arm slightly and just the tip of the tines went in her side. I can remove that one with out a problem. The other one just grazed  her leg on both sides, Jenny is lucky she is so skinny, or it could have been much worse."

Jenny laughed then winced, "See, I told you I didn't need to eat more."

Ben chuckled as he and Hoss moved into position, between them, they held Jenny down. Jenny may have been skinny but she was rather strong and could buck like a mule when she wanted to do so. "You’re still going to eat." Ben said gruffly but with a smile.

"Figures" Jenny grinned at her Pa then gasped as Adam removed the pitchfork from her leg. "THAT HURT!" Jenny gasped, and glared at her big brother. 

"Sorry baby," Adam said, "I have to remove them or we can't get you though the door to the house, then you would have to live in the barn with the horses and eat out of a trough." Adam's eyes sparkled as he teased. In truth Jenny had lived in the barn when she first came to the ranch. She didn't trust anyone and hated being in the house at all. It had taken Ben over a month of bringing her into the house several times a night before Jenny would actually stay.

Jenny winced but laughed as her brother teased her. "Might make it easier to give her a bath though" Hoss chimed in. Jenny stuck out her tongue at him. Then cried out as Adam pulled the other pitch fork from her little body, "DAMN that hurts" she swore before she thought, then blanched and looked at Ben. "I didn't mean, I am sorry Pa." She stammered. 

Ben chuckled softly, "its fine this time Jenny," mock stern look, "just don't let it happen again."

Jenny grinned as she grimaced, "Yes sir."

Hoss lifted Jenny in his arms and carried her into the house. The next half hour was spent cleaning the wounds and binding them up while Joe and Jamey stood facing the wall in the barn and praying they had been forgotten.

No such luck. As soon as Jenny was bandaged and set on the sofa, Ben headed for the barn again. The look on his face made even Adam stand back. Once outside, Ben took several breaths, he was angry with the boys, he knew that, but he would not punish them right then if he was too angry. The next ten minutes were spent examining how angry he was and how best to punish the boys.

Ben entered the barn, and spoke two words, "Woodshed, now!"

Joe and Jamey scrambled out of the barn to get to the woodshed. Ben landed a stinging swat to their rumps as they moved past him.

As Ben and the boys entered the woodshed, the well established pattern went into motion. Both boys went to a corner and lowered their pants to their ankles, drawers following, (if they were wearing any that is) and there they stood and would stand until they left  unless being spanked. Two pale unmarked buttox quivered in the dim light. They faced Ben as he put a folded burlap sack over the horse to protect from splinters then another on the stump for the same reason. Ben sat heavily, he hated punishing his children but knew it to his duty and, as all duties, he faced it head on (so to speak).

"Joseph Francis Cartwright, come over here" Ben intoned.

Joe twitched at the use of his full name, never a good sign, and shuffled over to his father, his lowered pants impeding his progress. 

Ben wasted no time with scolding. His boys knew what they had done. Ben took Joe’s arm, and guided him over his lap. Joe’s face was crimson with embarrassment, already a man yet once again over his father’s knee like a little child getting a spanking.

Ben drew back his hand and began quickly peppering Joe’s pale globes with rapid stinging spanks, concentrating on painting an even shade of red before continuing to his upper thighs.

Joe bit his lip, the spanking while painful was more humiliating than anything. 

Ben shifted again, concentrating the stinging blows to the crease where Joe’s thighs met his bottom, this caused Joe to gasp and occasionally OW and shift his bottom, his eyes squeezed shut.

Then Ben moved to Joe’s sit spot, and increased the force of the swats. Joe began Owing and dancing on Ben’s lap, feet kicking out at the spanking. Ben’s hand began the journey again, and again covering Joe’s bottom 5 more times before he let his gasping soon up, sending him back to the corner. Joe's bottom a deep red that extended halfway down his thighs on prominent display his face as red as his bottom buried in the wall.

"Jamey Hunter Cartwright" Ben boomed, "Come here."

Jamey pushed out of the corner and winced at the sight of his older brothers bottom, knowing his would soon be the same. He shuffled to Ben, hobbled by his pants, and was treated to the same guiding hand turning him over the paternal lap. Jamey began crying again before the first swat even connected. Jamey tensed as he felt the hand rising and cried out loud almost in relief, at the first stinging swat. The hand print glowing on his pale flesh only to be joined by another and another, as the swats in adding their own marking to the one red splotch. The hand continued in the same pattern on Jamey as it had on Joe, down the thighs and to the crease then up and to the sit spot, turning the lightly freckled flesh to pink then red quickly.

Unlike Joe, who maintained a stoic silence punctuated by ows and a few yelps of pain, Jamey sobbed the entire spanking. His voice pleading with Ben to stop extolling his heart felt apologies and promises to never do it again.

Jamey was bucking over Ben’s lap when the spanking was finished, he hobbled back to the corner, and leaned against the wall, his gut wrenching sobs filling the small room.

Ben paused then rose, taking the strop from its place on the door, "Joseph" he spoke low but with authority. 

Joe moved to the sawhorse bending over it, his red bottom a lighter shade than before rose as his head went down.

After letting them wait a few more minutes Ben called, "Joseph come here" 

Joe flinched badly even though it had been some times since he had been stropped he remember it well, the white hot pain that seemed almost unending, 

Joe hobbled over to the saw horse and took a deep breath. He bent over it so his bare buttox was high in the air, grabbing onto the extra bar that was nailed low on the sawhorse. 

The rules were simple, stay in position and don't reach back, wiggling and squirming were fine and expected as long as it wasn’t in extreme. If they broke a rule there was one warning, then they were strapped down and the stropping began again and was doubled. Ben didn't attach a count. There was no way of knowing how long it would last it, that depended on what crime had been committed. For this crime, the boys knew they were in for a very long session with the strop.

Ben stood behind his son, and raised the strop, Joe's only warning was the swishing sound as it cut though the air a moment before it connected with his tenderized rump. The cry of pain filled the shed a second after the crack of the strop. Ben didn't stop there. He pulled back his arm, and let the strop fall again, just a quarter of an inch below the first mark.

Joe screamed out again, sobbing as the strop slowly marked its way down his bottom, pausing at the sit spot for some intense work, then again down his thighs. Joe was dancing on the saw horse with the fire that was lit in his bottom.

Ben crossed Joe's buttox with the final two stripes, crossing the others already laid down, directly on the sit spot. Joe levitated off the saw horse three feet before collapsing, his sobs filling the small room.

Ben rested one hand on Joe's back, letting his son cry for a time, then drew him up into a rough hug, holding the boy as he cried. Finally, Ben sent Joe back to the corner. Joe hobbled over and leaned weakly against the wall.

"Jamey, come here" Ben commanded.

Jamey flinched hard, he had heard the whipping Joe just got, and knew what to expect. Stoically, he walked over to his father, and bent over the saw horse, grasping the rail with a death grip. Jamey didn't want anything to add to the punishment he knew he had coming.

Ben looked at the lightly freckled bottom before him, then, with a resigned sigh, he raised the strop high, and brought it down with a sharp crack.

To his credit, Jamey actually didn't cry out till the third swat with the strop. Then his voice lifted to a decibel level that seemed to be able to be heard all over the Ponderosa and clear into Virginia City. 

Ben methodically stripped his son’s bottom using the same pattern as he had Joe, beginning at the top of the bottom and working his way down to the sit spot, then down again to the thighs. Each stripe bringing a scream of pain and a dance, promises of better behavior, being more careful and finally incoherent babbling and sobs.

As he let the last two strips fall, crossing on the sit spot, Ben resisted an urge to throw the strop across the shed. He placed his arm on Jamey's back, comforting his youngest son as he sobbed. Finally, Ben helped his boy up, pulling him into a hug. Father and son stood there for a long time, till Jamey was ready to go back to the corner. 

Ben hung the strop back in its place, and for a time he too leaned against the wall, strong emotions flowing though him as his boys cried in their corners, tears running down his face. The thought of what could have happened left Ben cold. As the time passed the sobs lessened, finally, wiping his face, Ben called his sons to him, enveloping them in powerful hugs, holding them. "Never again," Ben said.

Joe and Jamey sobbed again, promising to never do anything so stupid again. After several long minutes, Ben released his sons, and set them out to the barn to finish their chores, and do Jenny's chores as well. 

Ben looked around the shed, gazing for a long time at the strop. Then he walked out and headed to the house, he knew this would not be the last time the strip of leather would be pressed into service. But Ben hoped it would be a long time before he had to strap any of his children again.

The door of the shed closed slowly, the strop bounced slowly on the wood. The last ray of glittering light fell on the saw horse as the puddle of tears slowly dried on the floor. 
 

to be continued in part 8