Bare Bottomed Bar Mitzvah

This story is not based on or involved with my Bransom, TX stories. The idea was loosely inspired by 13: The Musical, especially the song A Little Less Homework, which starts with Evan, a character played by Graham Phillips, as celebrant of the Aliyah (the clip can be found at youtube if you search the actors name and song title). This story has nothing to do with the play, but Graham was who I was picturing as I wrote this story.



It was Saturday afternoon, five days after my thirteenth birthday, and I was now a man. I’d led the haftarah and given the traditional ‘I am a man’ speech (I’d cheated and gotten my English teacher to help write it, so it wouldn’t be too boring). Now I was having to greet and return thanks to the members of the Synagogue as they left. Some of them I’d be seeing a bit later at the party. Others, people I didn’t know that well or hadn’t even thought of, were slipping me small envelopes as they shook my hand and congratulated me, something that was a bit shocking and a very pleasant surprise.

My best friend Max is a Christian, but he’d known how important this service was to me and had come. He was gone now. My father had asked him to go ahead to the reception with my mom and brothers. As the crowd thinned to almost nothing, I saw my father waiting patiently, but not happily, in a corner.

My father had also led part of the service today in the traditional blessing for removing the burden of responsibility for my sins. The small black leather bag in his hand suggested he hadn’t been too serious about that idea.

As the last few people filed out, I saw the rabbi hand something to Father, then he turned and walked towards me.

"You ready to go to the reception?" I asked, trying to hide my nervousness behind false cheer.

"No, and I don’t think you are either, Levi. I remember what a special day this was when I turned thirteen, Son. For that matter, you turning thirteen is a special day for me, as well as you. But you know that special days require us to be on our best behavior, don’t you?"

"Yes, sir," I answered him sadly. I knew exactly what he meant, exactly why he was saying it, and from the tone of his voice, I also knew that there was no way I was going to escape what he had in mind.

Not that any amount of certainty would stop me from trying.

"Unlike you, I’m the eldest in my family. I know that Jacob and Joseph can be irritating to you at times. I’m sure you’d hate to admit it, but you could be just as irritating to Saul when you were younger. But…?"

"But that doesn’t give me the right to hit them," I finished, trying not to whine. "But, Dad…"

"I know," he interrupted me. "I know they drive you crazy. They’re young. They’ll learn to get along with you and when not to push you… Just like you did with your big brother."

Dad stopped and took a breath.

"Levi, I’d never say this in front of your little brothers or your mother, and I’ll deny it if you ever repeat this, but there’ve been times I saw you hit one of your little brothers and I didn’t say anything about it."

I was a bit startled to hear that. Hitting one of your little brothers was supposed to be an automatic spanking offense, and I know that Saul, Joseph and I had made had more than one trip over Dad’s lap because of it.

"But that’s when you hit them on the arm. They’re little kids, but you’re still a boy too, and I don’t expect you to always make the right decision. I understand that sometimes you get worked up and have to relieve the pressure some way. Hitting your little brother isn’t a good way to do it, but a frog on the arm is better than a lot of other things I can think of. I did the same thing to your uncles sometimes. Sometimes I got spanked for it, but sometimes I didn’t."

"The point today is," he continued, "that you didn’t hit Jake on the arm, did you?"

"No, sir." I thought about leaving it there, but Dad was giving me that look. "I hit him in the stomach." I wanted to make an excuse, to explain to Dad how mad I was, how tense I was, but the look he was giving me had shifted to sympathy and understanding, and I didn’t think I needed to.

"That would have been bad enough, but for you to, not just disrespect your mother when she called you on it, but to yell at her… That was unacceptable, Levi. And then you ran out of the house without letting anyone know where you were going or when you’d be back."

Dad paused and took a deep breath.

"I’m sorry, Son. I want this to be a great day for you, but your behavior was totally unacceptable, and you know what we’re going to do about it."

I could actually hear my throat work as my mouth suddenly went dry. It felt like I was trying to swallow a chunk of concrete. I’d known what Dad was leading up to; known it without a doubt, but hearing it still had me shivering. Still, I was never one to surrender without at least an argument.

"But, Dad, Proverbs says, "Withhold not correction from a child…" I’m a Bar Mitzvah now, not a child."

Dad gave me an admiring look, and I had a moment of hope. He nodded, then dashed it.

"That’s a good point, Son, but you’re missing two… no, three points. First, Pirkei Avot tells us that thirteen is old enough to fulfill the commandments, but you’re not yet responsible enough to support yourself or marry, so you are still my responsibility. Second, we’re not just Jews, but Americans. According to American law, you’re my responsibility for about another five years, including your correction. For that matter, since fulfilling the commandments includes honoring your parents, I’d say you’re not off to a real good start there."

He stopped and raised an eyebrow at me. I should have known better than to try it. After all, Dad’s the one that taught me logic and rhetoric; but sometimes he’d let me go if I made a really good point. I guess he felt something like this was just too serious.

Then I stopped and counted.

"Was the third honoring you guys?"

"Hmmm? Oh, no—the third reason was, if I stopped spanking you because you’d turned thirteen, when it’s only been a couple of weeks since I last whipped Saul, he’d pound you to snail snot."

I had to nod my agreement. I doubted seriously that Dad was doing this for my protection, but Saul was going to be fifteen in about two months, and I had no doubt he wouldn’t take it well if he found out I’d talked Dad out of tearing me up because I was too old for a spanking. It didn’t keep me from making one more try at it, though.

"You’re not going to spank me in the Synagogue are you? Wouldn‘t that be blasphemous or something?"

"I kind of doubt it would be, but it’s not going to be a problem," Dad replied, holding up his hand and letting a set of keys dangle. "I spoke to Rabbi Gould. He’s going to be here for a while, so he gave me the keys to the old education building. You’ll be far from the first boy to be punished in one of those old cloakrooms.

Great! My parents were running around like mad men yesterday, trying to make sure my party was going to be all set up without violating any Shabbat laws; but spanking me he’s got perfectly organized. I love my dad, but he really needs to get his priorities straight.

Dad raised his eyebrows, asking if I was going to try anything else, but also glanced at his watch, as if to remind me that we had a limited amount of time before I was due at the reception. Since I did not want to show up there crying, I gave in.

I shrugged my shoulders to let Dad know I was through arguing. He gestured for me to lead the way, then dropped his arm around my shoulders and walked beside me.

We were silent as we left the main building and crossed to the old education building. It really was pretty old. It had been built back in the 1930s when a lot of German Jews were fleeing before the Nazis. It had been built as a place to teach English and about America, to help our European cousins settle in more quickly. After that need had faded, it had been used for Hebrew School and other things over the years, but it still looked and felt like an old school.

Dad moved his arm from my shoulder while he unlocked the main door, then I followed him inside. After a moment, he led me into the far left classroom, which was the largest of them. Dad unlocked the door and the building’s quiet was broken by the quiet hum of a fan. The old-style building had huge windows, but two of them in each classroom were partially blocked by window unit air conditioners. At this time of year, the room was comfortable without them, using only the fan to keep the air from getting stale.

I guess I was noticing all those things in an attempt to distract myself from what I knew was coming. I started back towards the cloakroom, wanting now just to get it over with, but Dad detoured over to the teacher’s desk, where he took the chair, then followed me. With the chair in one hand and his black leather shaving kit in the other, there was no question what was coming. My throat choked closed, and my mind started racing around like a panicked hamster, trying to find the right thing to say to apologize, anything to get me out of this.

Dad looked up and saw me pause. He gave me a look that I couldn’t read for a moment. It wasn’t mad… it was almost sympathetic. He opened his mouth, then closed it, and nodded his head towards the cloakroom.

I took a deep breath, wanting to protest, but decided that, if I was a man, then I should try to act like one. I guess it was really too late to behave like a man should, but I squared my shoulders and resolved to at least not take my punishment like a whining little boy.

I nodded to Dad, then turned and walked back to the cloakroom. I waited while Dad moved to one side of the doorway and dropped the chair on the floor, centered it, dropped his shaving kit to one side, and sat. Then I stepped over to the other side of the room.

I knew how this was going to go, took another deep breath to gather my quickly fading resolve, and looked at the wall, away from dad. The wall of the cloakroom suggested it had been built for little kids who’d come to school in a winter’s rain. There were small shelves near the floor where you could leave galoshes. There were hooks at about my wait level, then there was a rod with some hangers on it about my shoulder level. I was tempted to look around and see if the entire room was like that, but decided I didn’t have too much time to waste if I didn’t want to show up at my party red-eyed and wet-cheeked. I reached up to my shoulders and gathered my tallit into my hands, lifting it off my neck and gently resting it over one of the hooks. Then I removed my yarmulke and placed it on the next hook. My navy blazer went next, but I hung that on one of the hangers.

I was unfastening my belt when Dad finally spoke up.

"Remember you’re going to have to wear those clothes to your party, Levi."

He didn’t say anything further, but I knew what he meant and sighed.

If I just pushed my pants down towards me knees, they’d end up all wrinkled. At best, it wasn’t really the look I wanted while trying to impress Candy Taylor, who’d already promised to dance with me. At worst, it might get people wondering why I was looking rumpled; and some of my friends knew me well enough to make a good guess.

I left my belt unbuckled and hanging loose, and untucked the light blue dress shirt I was wearing. I guess the people who decided what dress up was going to look like never had to worry about getting a spanking before their party. Or maybe they were just sadistic bastards. Either way, I’ll tell you that it’s pretty hard to get collar bars and tie tacks undone when your hands are shaking. I was thinking I’d have to get Dad to help me undress when it finally came loose, and I was just thankful that I’d worn a shirt with cuff buttons instead of using links.

With the shirt hung carefully on one hanger, I kicked off my loafers, undid my fly, and started to slide my gray trousers down, when I stopped. Have you ever had a day when everything went wrong? The light blue boxers with yellow rubber duckies all over had seemed funny when I’d bought them, and I’d not even thought about it when I’d put them on, but now they just seemed embarrassing. I guess it’s ridiculous to worry about your boxers when your dad’s about to bust your butt, but I could still feel my face go red. Still, I knew something like that wasn’t going to dissuade Dad, so I shoved the pants the rest of the way down and hung them neatly from another hanger.

Standing in nothing but undershirt, black socks, and boxers, I squared my shoulders and took a deep breath. Dad always spanked on bare skin. The only time it didn’t happen was when he swatted the little kids, and it still probably meant their clothes would be coming down when he got them home. I could leave them on, but he’d just pull them down, and having your dad take your clothes down for you just seemed to make it worse. I could leave them on until I got over to him, then push them down before I got over his lap. The problem with that is, unless I was a lot tougher than the last time Dad spanked me, I’d be kicking my legs all over before he was done, and then I’d probably have to spend time trying to figure where I’d kicked my boxers, while I was crying and showing off my red butt.

Dad hadn’t spanked me in six months, and I’d gone through some changes since then. It’s not like he never saw me naked when we were on vacation or at the gym or something, but I really didn’t want to be exposed to him right now. On the other hand, it’s not like he wasn’t going to see everything anyway (or like he was a mile away, instead of just a few feet). I could feel Dad waiting patiently for me to be ready, but I could also feel the seconds ticking away before the guests started to arrive for my party. One more deep breath, and I shoved my boxers off and hung them on another hook, next to my yarmulke.

I turned to cross the few feet between Dad and me, but couldn’t resist pulling my t-shirt down a bit to hide my dick. I knew I was acting a little weird but couldn’t help it. I was mad at myself for ruining such a long streak without a spanking, especially on this day; I was upset and disappointed with myself for hitting Jake and yelling at Mom; but I don’t think those were the reasons that I was feeling so hypersensitive.

I wasn’t looking at Dad right then, but only towards him. That’s when I saw the black leather shaving kit sitting next to the chair. His hands were still empty, but the kit was open, and I realized why I was so sensitive; it’s because I knew what was in that kit.

Before my thoughts could go further, I caught movement from the corner of my eye. If I’d been wearing shoes, I would have jumped out of them. As it was, my socks slid on the old wood floor, and I nearly landed on my bare butt. Hadn’t Dad locked the door behind us? Was someone watching through a classroom window? Why was all this happening to me today?

"Levi?" Dad asked curiously, but I ignored him, trying to see what had drawn my attention.

It was only as I became less focused on the doorway between cloakroom and classroom that I saw the boy standing next to it, with his thick black hair hanging almost down to his blue eyes, that were separated by a strong nose, over a not so strong chin. He wasn’t especially tall, though his lean build made him look a bit taller. I didn’t even have to see the way he was pulling his t-shirt down to cover his small but thick patch of pubic hair that hovered over a disappointingly small dick to realize there was a mirror next to the door.

As tense as I was, I couldn’t stop a small giggle from escaping.

"Levi?" Dad asked again, sounding a little nervous now. Maybe the giggle had sounded a bit hysterical? Either way, I looked back to him and shook my head. It was easier to take the next step. I guess I had reason to be keyed up, but jumping at my own image in a mirror made me realize how ridiculous I was acting. Dad loved me. I knew that as surely as I knew anything in the world. That wasn’t going to keep him from tearing my butt up, but I knew he wouldn’t give me anything more than he thought I could take; nothing more than I deserved.

I pulled my t-shirt up, exposing my penis, but mainly clearing my backside for action. Dad hadn’t spanked me since last spring, but he’d seen me and my brothers all naked when we were changing for the drive home from the water park months after that. Anyway, he wasn’t even looking at my body but was watching my face.

I’d never thought until that minute how selfish a spanking makes you. I knew how I felt: worried that my friends might find out, scared of how much it was going to hurt, embarrassed by my nearly naked body, and bad about the fact that I’d been so stupid and earned this. That’s what I was all tied up with, but how did Dad feel about it?

Over the years, Dad had been my Scout Den Leader, he’d coached my baseball and soccer teams, he’d taught me how to tie my shoes and tie a fly. When I was in fifth grade, and fractions were kicking my ass, Dad had been the one to help me figure them out. And he’d taught me what the commandments expected of me. He took pride in those things and was happy when I learned. Was this the same thing? Was he happy for a chance to help me learn another lesson? Was this just one more part of parenting, which he took pride in doing well? Or was this something that he hated as much as I did. Was he disappointed that I’d blown up like that and proven how immature I was? Was he mad at me for not respecting my mom and protecting my little brother? Dad had never said it, but was this really going to hurt him worse than it did me?

"Dad?" I said as I stepped over to him.

He just looked up at me.

"I know I deserve this, and I really am sorry."

"I am too, Levi; but I think you owe the apology to Jake and your mom, don’t you?"

"Them too, but you’re the one having to do this."

Dad nodded. I don’t know if he really understood why I was apologizing to him, but he accepted it.

Without waiting for him to say anything else, I stepped to his side. I still remembered the drill and put my hands on his left leg as I learned forward, then climbed across his lap.

Even at twelve, I’d felt pretty grown up, and now I was thirteen. I didn’t feel grown up, though. With Dad’s big, rough hand resting on my bare butt, with my nose just inches off the floor on one side of him, and my toes barely brushing the floor on the other, I just felt like a naughty little kid.

"You know why you’re in trouble, Levi?"

"Yes, sir."

He was quiet, so I spelled it out.

"Because I hit Jake and yelled at Mom."

"And…?"

Huh? Oh, yeah. "And because I left the house without permission."

He was quiet a second.

"I think you know what you did was wrong and why, so I think we can skip any more lecturing, unless you need to talk about it."

Stone the crows! Why didn’t he just do it?

"No, sir," I said, managing to sound much calmer than I felt. "I understand."

As his hand came up from my butt, I suddenly wished I’d talked a bit longer.

Dad was a construction carpenter. He worked with his hands every day. When he wasn’t building a house, he was at home working around there, or in his workshop building furniture or things for around the house. All I did with my butt was sit on it, and that was with a double layer of protection. There was no question which was harder, and it didn’t take long to show.

Dad never spanked any of us in front of each other, but Saul and I had examined each other’s butts after a spanking, so I could picture what color my normally fair skin was turning. I knew this was just the warm up, but Dad was doing a good job. His big hand was landing again and again and again all over my little ass, and the burning, stinging ache kept building and building. I was trying to take it like a man, trying to stay still and quiet, but my eyes were starting to burn almost as much as my butt, and I could feel tears starting to run down my face.

When Dad started working on my upper legs, I couldn’t keep my feet from jerking. I’d kept my hands on the floor in front of me, but even with my jaws clenched, I couldn’t keep myself from grunting. Finally it was just too much, and I had to yelp. Dad must have been awaiting that because his hand came to rest on my tender, flaming ass and didn’t rise again for a minute.

I was clenching and unclenching my butt cheeks, trying to work out some of the burn. I was nearly panting, trying to catch my breath, but none of that mattered when I felt Dad shift to his right, towards the shaving kit.

I’d known it was coming. Even if I hadn’t screwed up three different times today and pretty seriously, Dad really felt I was too old for just a hand spanking. The fact that he’d warmed me up with his hand first just let me know how disappointed he really was in me. But now he was reaching for help.

The wooden brush or that plastic shoehorn… I didn’t know which I’d rather have. Saul and I had spent hours over the last few years trying to decide which was worse. The shoehorn actually stung a little worse, but the hairbrush left you aching for hours. Twelve—thirteen, now, I guess—swats with either one of them was going to have me blubbering like a little kid, and I was pretty sure Dad wasn‘t going to stop at that after the way I‘d acted today.

I felt the kit come to rest on my back and couldn’t stop a groan, while Dad must have been deciding just how he was going to blister me butt. I arched my back and twisted my head, trying to see what he was doing, but there was no way. When he lifted the bag, I dropped my head again. I watched him place the kit on the floor, then found my answer as I felt something plastic come to rest against my aching cheeks.

"Oh, no."

I took a death grip on the chair, wanting to try to keep a little dignity, but I knew I wasn’t going to have much chance of that. I tried to be still and quiet, not for the whole spanking, but just for a minute—a moment. I managed that, but not much of one.

I don’t know how many smacks Dad gave me. I didn’t even try to count as the thin plastic spanker worked down one cheek, then the other, then onto my legs. Again and again and again it came down and it hurt so bad. I wanted to be brave, but it just kept getting worse and worse. I started yelping and my feet started twitching around, but soon enough, I was crying hard and loud, kicking and squirming, trying anything to get away, but Dad just kept going.

I know I had at least some little bit of control left. I don’t know how a man would really take something like this, and I wasn’t very proud of how hard I was fighting and how loud I was crying, but my hands were still on the chair legs. If nothing else, I’d managed that so far, but the spanking just kept going and going. I was getting too sore to keep fighting. I was crying so hard my face was soaked, and my throat was sore from the howls I could hear echoing around the small room. Just when I couldn’t take anymore and my hand finally came loose from the chair leg, Dad stopped.

I collapsed loosely across his legs in relief. I didn’t even think about it when I felt him shift to his side again. I was too sore to move but wanted up desperately, so tried to push myself off of his lap, and then the worst happened. He put his hand on my back to keep me there.

"We’re not quite finished, Levi."

"Oh, no. No, Daddy. Please. I’ve had enough. Please!"

I was babbling and crying so hard he probably couldn’t even understand me, but I couldn’t help myself. I would have done anything for it to end.

"You were right about one thing you said earlier, Levi. You’re a Bar Mitzvah now. You know how to act, and from now on, when you choose to act otherwise, I’m going to do more than just spank you. I’m sure Saul’s already told you what to expect, so this shouldn’t be a surprise."

It wasn’t. I knew he kept the razor strop in that same shaving kit. Just the thought of it was what had made me so incredibly tense earlier, but when he’d taken me over his lap, I’d thought I was going to escape it this time. After all, Saul always got into a lot more trouble than I did. Still, I suddenly recalled Saul telling me about his very first encounter with the razor strop and realized that his story had been a lot like this.

"Your behavior today was totally unacceptable, and I want to make sure you not only realize that, but remember it. This is just a taste, but I’d suggest you talk to your big brother to find out how bad it can really get."

With that, I felt the wide, heavy leather come to rest across my butt. It was only a second, then I heard a noise like a truck rushing past and a CRACK! before my butt was suddenly… not on fire, it had already been on fire, but now the fire spread deep and wide. I screamed.

Again the strop cracked down, lower this time. It was wide enough it must have covered almost half my ass in one stroke. Then a third time, and this time was the worst as it covered the very lowest part of my butt and my upper legs. I don’t know if I screamed again, or if it was all the same one. My whole world was nothing but a red haze of agony and waiting for that next stroke.

It never came though, and after a while, I realized Dad was talking to me.

"Wh-what?" I asked, though my voice was raw and choked with tears.

"I asked if you thought you could get up now?"

I tried pushing myself up, before having to admit, "No."

"Here," Dad replied and gently helped me to my feet.

I was a little wobbly, but managed to stay upright, which was good. Falling on my butt now wasn’t something I even wanted to think about.



Dad turned away from me, giving me a little privacy to scrub at my face and rub at my butt, while he re-packed his shaving kit. Then he let me lean on him as he helped me to the bathroom. Daylight was fading, and I wasn’t even mildly worried about the chance someone might be hiding outside the window as Dad led me through the classroom. He left me alone in the bathroom as I cleaned up.

When I came back to the classroom, Dad had returned the chair to the teacher’s desk and was looking at his cell phone. He looked up when I came in, then glanced at his watch.

"Go get dressed. We’ve still got about twenty minutes before your guests start arriving, which should be plenty of time… even if you are moving a little slow right now."

Twenty minutes? No way. We must have been in that cloakroom for hours. It didn’t seem like there was any way my butt could have gotten that sore in less than ten minutes. Still, there was a clock on the wall that proved Dad was right.

Getting my boxers and slacks back on had been the hardest part, and I wasn’t up to running any races, but five minutes later, I was dressed and we were headed towards the car.



We arrived at the hotel where the party was being held in plenty of time. A few people were already there, but if anyone knew what had happened or even guessed at it, they didn’t say anything. Well, almost no one.

I’d greeted a few people while I made my way over to Mom and Jake. They were both very polite about accepting my apology, though Jake did want to know the details of my spanking, and I promised to tell him about it later. He’s the one that got hit, so I guess it was only fair I told him.

I was looking around to see if Candy was there yet when Saul came up to me.

"Pretty bad?" he asked quietly.

I trusted him not to say too much where anyone could hear. After all, I’d just turned thirteen, but he was nearly fifteen, and he’d had three whippings since I’d gotten my last one. I would never blackmail him, but I would be more than willing to get him back if he got me.

"Really bad," I assured him.

"Dad use the strop?"

"Yeah, but just three… swats?"

"Did you bend over something, or…?"

"Nah, he had me over his lap."

"You were lucky, then. He did me that way once or twice, but when he bends you over something, he can get a good swing, and it really kills then."

"Oh, man," was the only reply I could think of, and I made a promise to myself not to ever get in trouble again.

Right then, Candy saw me and waved. I walked over to her, and Saul tagged along.

"Hi, Levi," she said in her sweet voice.

"Hi, Candy," I replied, smiling at her.

"Ahem!"

"Oh, Candy, this is my big brother, Saul."

"Hi, Saul," she added politely, glancing at him before looking back at me.

"Are you okay, Levi?"

"Ummm… yeah," I said, not very convincingly. "Why?"

"Well, you’re just walking a little funny.’

Before I could think of a reply, Saul jumped in. I didn’t even have to look. I could hear the smirk on his face.

"Well, you know how you can get a little stiff when you get too much sun? Little brother got a little red today."

I was going to kill him. Still, I hadn’t been able to think of anything, and he hadn’t outright lied. Of course it would have been more convincing if it hadn’t been cloudy all day.

"Oh," Candy answered, not seeming to worry about it. "I hope you can still dance tonight."

"I wouldn’t miss it," I assured her.

"Good, because this is my favorite song. Let’s go."

I enjoyed the dance with Candy and was very glad we’d gotten it out of the way first.

As soon as her song ended, the DJ started playing the Hava Nagilia. Everyone who knew the song started forming the others into a circle. Feeling pale and panicky, I glanced around to see Dad and my uncles coming towards me with a chair. Dad looked like he was torn between commiseration and laughing his ass off, but it didn’t stop him from letting Uncle Isaac push me into the chair for them to lift me to their shoulders. I managed not to yelp, but couldn’t stop a wince.

Looking out to see Saul focusing on me with a video camera did not help. I swear I’m going to delete his Youtube account.





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