Rite of Passage
17 year-old Julia was planning her debutante ball. She was a second-generation Arnerican. Her father had come from the land of Filina. Over there, girls would have a debutante ball upon turning 18 years of age. Extended family and friends would be invited. It was a celebration of her entering adulthood.
Julia had been looking forward to it, but something felt missing. Her father had been from Filina, but her mother had come from the country of Polvia. Her mother had died three years ago, and a big part of Julia wanted her mother's traditions represented as well.
Julia's name began with a "J" but her name was Polvian in origin, meaning that it was pronounced like a "Y". Julia always corrected people who mispronounced her name. It was important to her that it be pronounced correctly, as she was named, not the Anglicized version.
She researched Polvian birthday traditions online and found that there was a rite of passage for the eighteenth birthday. It was called "Knighting", but she couldn't translate more than that. She decided to ask her father if he knew anymore.
"Yes, I'm aware of this tradition," he said as they sat together at the dinner table. "Keep in mind that it's an older tradition that reflected the cultural norms of Polvia from long ago. It may be a bit shocking to modern sensibilities."
"I'm still interested in learning what it is," said Julia. "I'm really looking forward to the debutante ball because celebrating my Filina heritage is important to me. But I'm also half-Polvian, and I want Mom's culture represented too."
Her father nodded. "I completely understand. The 'Knighting' ceremony is very simple by comparison. Your family and close friends would get together and hit you eighteen times with a strap. If you really want to celebrate with this tradition as well, I'm sure we can work it out."
"Does being hit with this strap hurt?" asked Julia.
Her father chuckled. "If you do it the traditional way with a heavy leather strap, it certainly does. But that tradition has evolved a bit among the Polvian community in America. You see, in Polvia, such a brutal whipping wouldn't be as much of a shock since corporal punishment is used quite liberally over there. That's not the case here in America anymore. Polvian-Americans raised here aren't used to this sort of thing, so the Polvian immigrant community started using a woolen strap instead. It isn't painful at all, just symbolic."
"That's a relief," said Julia. "I would like to honor my Polvian heritage but being beaten with a leather strap is a bit too much. If we can use something that doesn't hurt at all though, that would be great. If it's all symbolic anyway, I guess it doesn't matter. I assume it would be done on my back?"
Her father shook his head. "No, it's done on the buttocks. Traditionally, it's done on bare skin, but as you can imagine, modern sensibilities about modesty could make that a problem. That's why it has become common to do this over clothing among the Polvian-American community. No need for you to be mooning the party guests."
"Party guests?" asked Julia in confusion. "Is this a public thing?"
"Kind of," replied her father with a shrug. "It's done by close friends and family. They would typically take turns until all eighteen lashes were delivered. This is usually done as a part of the birthday party."
"That works out," said Julia. "The debutante ball will involve giving a rose to eighteen different people. Those same eighteen people could each give me one lash after the ball ceremony. But where would we find a woolen strap to use?"
"Well your mother would sometimes go to a Polvian grocery store in town," replied her father. "It's kind of a long drive so she wouldn't go often. But they would almost certainly sell that there. We can go there this weekend and buy one."
Later that night, Julia did some more research online. Now that she knew what this "Knighting" ceremony was, she had keywords to use to search with. She came across a few videos on ad-heavy sites. These videos showed Knighting ceremonies being done. She understood very little Polvian but it was still very clear what was happening.
What she saw in these videos was quite shocking. These lashes were being delivered quite hard. It was common to see the person delivering the lash to literally run forward for that extra bit of momentum. The screams of the birthday celebrant made it clear that this was extremely painful. It made sense to Julia why the use of a woolen strap was preferred among the immigrant community rather than the traditional leather strap.
She also noticed that these whippings were done on bare buttocks. She was relieved that she also wouldn't have to do this part. The thought of dropping her panties in front of the male friends who would be participating in her debutante ball was absolutely mortifying to her.
She then found some videos of the modified ceremony done in America. These videos were much tamer. Everyone seemed to be having more fun with it. There was lots of laughing and joking. The woolen strap bounced harmlessly off of jeans-clad buttocks. The person getting it would laugh about it. It was all treated as a joke.
This was a much different atmosphere than the ceremonies done in Polvia. The tears and the pain were genuine, but so was the sense of reverence for the moment. She remembered one scene in particular. The girl who had just received a terrifyingly harsh beating had slowly stood up afterwards on shaky legs. As she fixed her clothing and rubbed her buttocks, the pained expression on her face slowly gave way to a joyous smile. She hugged the friends who had just beaten her. The celebration seemed much more authentic. That image lingered in Julia's mind.
A few days later, she rode with her father to the Polvian grocery store. Sure enough, near the front of the store, there were woolen straps for sale. Julia picked one up and felt the soft texture with her hands. Her father also picked one up. "Turn around," he told her. She hesitantly turned around so she was facing away from him. He then struck her across her buttocks with the woolen strap. It didn't hurt at all.
"See, nothing to worry about," he said. Julia sighed. "I've been thinking about this, and I want to go with a real leather strap."
She was surprised to hear her father readily agree. "I understand," he said. "We'll just have to take the intensity of the sting into account and handle this carefully. Maybe you could change into jeans so it won't be painful for you. There are ways we can make a real leather strap work for you. Let's go find one."
They were able to find a leather strap further back in the store. Julia unconsciously clenched her buttocks at the sight of it. The leather had a rugged look to it, and it was attached to a wooden handle. Her father examined it. "This will still hurt a bit even over jeans. We'll have to make sure it's not too hard."
Julia shook her head. "Actually, Dad… I've been giving this a lot of thought. I want this to be authentic, just like what I would get if I were in Polvia. That means getting it hard."
"It also means getting it on your bare butt," said Dad. "I'm not sure I like the idea of you exposing yourself to your friends like that, especially the boys that will be there."
"Friends or family," said Julia. "You could give me the lashes yourself. It doesn't have to be in front of anyone else. We can do that after the ball when we get home." Her father hadn't seen her bare bottom ever since she was a small child, but she could handle some temporary embarrassment.
Her father signed. "Are you absolutely sure that this is what you want?"
Julia nodded. "I know it will hurt but I feel like I need to do this to honor my heritage on my mom's side. I'm sure she underwent the same ceremony."
Her father nodded. "Yes, she did. And I can understand you wanting to do the same. If you want it to be as hard as it's supposed to be though, I'm not sure I can ever intentionally inflict that much pain on you. I have an idea though."
When Julia heard her father's idea, she immediately agreed. This was all going to work out well. They left the store without buying a strap.
The weeks passed and eventually the day of the ball arrived. Julia was dressed in a splendid red silk dress. Her father had rented out the neighborhood clubhouse for the occasion. He spoke during dinner and reminisced about Julia growing up and what a fine young woman she had become.
After dinner, they had a dance. Of the eighteen roses that Julia had passed out, nine of them were to males. These nine included her grandfather, uncle, boyfriend, father, and several male friends. It ended with a father-daughter dance. Afterwards, she opened her presents and was delighted to see that her gifts included a substantial cash gift from her father.
After the ceremony was over and the guests went home, Julia got in the car with her dad and they drove to the local Polvian church. They had been active there when Julia's mother had still been alive. It was almost ten o'clock at night when they arrived, but lights were still on in the church. They were expected.
The front doors were locked but they had been instructed to take an unlocked side entrance into the building. Julia recognized the room as a banquet room, but all the folding tables and chairs had been neatly put away by the walls. She didn't recognize the bulky man waiting for them, but her father had already let her know who they were there to meet.
His name was Konrad Nowak. His title was a word that Julia couldn't pronounce but it translated as "Marshal". While the Priest presided over religious ceremonies such as baptisms and weddings, the Marshal handled cultural ceremonies that were of significance to the Polvian-American community.
He smiled warmly at Julia and her father. "This must be the birthday girl!" he said exuberantly. "The fact that you've chosen to do this ceremony in the traditional manner tells me that you've become a fine young woman. Now then, there isn't much in the way of long-winded ceremony here. I'm going to thrash your bottom, and then that will be the end of it. You will have undergone this important rite of passage. But before we do, I have something for you to sign."
Marshal Nowak handed her a clipboard with a form attached. Julia read over the form. She winced at what she saw but she reminded herself that this has been her idea. The form basically stated that she consented to this ceremony and understood that she was likely to sustain superficial injuries such as welts and bruises. It also specified that she would be restrained so as to avoid unintentional injury caused by her moving.
With no small amount of trepidation, she signed the form. Marshal Nowak looked it over and asked her one last time if she was absolutely sure that she wanted to go through with this. Julia verbally affirmed her resolve.
Marshal Nowak handed her father a small plastic tube of ointment. "She might want this afterwards," he said. He opened a closet and retrieved a leather strap. Julia shuddered at the sight. It appeared to be longer and thicker than the one she had seen in the store.
Marshal Nowak removed his blazer, revealing his muscular arms underneath. This did not bode well for Julia's poor bottom. He pulled something else out of the closet. It was some sort of furniture item with wheels. It was a wooden frame with some rubber pads attached to it. He wheeled it out towards the center of the room.
He instructed Julia on how to mount the frame. There were pads for her to kneel on, and one for her to bend over. It has the effect of making her bottom stick up in the air. Marshal Nowak turned to her father. "Could you please adjust her clothing? I just need unobstructed access to her butt. That's all."
Her father was clearly uncomfortable as he raised Julia's dress up. She was pretty uncomfortable with it as well, but that paled in comparison to her discomfort when she felt him pulling her panties down.
Marshal Nowak then secured her wrists and ankles to the frame using attached restraints. Finally, he secured a strap over her lower back to hold her butt in place. Julia's heart began to race even faster when she heard Marshal Nowak's footsteps come to a stop behind and to her left. She knew he was holding the strap, and she knew what he was about to do to her.
She couldn't see him, but her father could. He watched as Marshal Nowak lifted the strap up high and used the full force of his massive body frame to swing the strap down across Julia's previously unmarked buttocks. He cringed in sympathy as the crack of leather across his daughter's bare flesh echoed throughout the room. A second later came an inhuman sounded wail from her daughter's mouth. She had been advised that she could stop this ceremony at any time she wished, but she did not say a word beyond the cries of pain.
Marshal Nowak had started with a powerful lash, but he continued with that same vigor. This certainly wasn't a symbolic thrashing. This was meant to be excruciatingly painful, and Marshal Nowak was certainly ensuring that was the case.
As much as Julia's father wanted to look away, he respected his daughter's resolve enough to watch closely as her bare bottom was mercilessly thrashed with a cruel leather strap. It went from being pale and unblemished to being an angry red. It then progressed into shades of purple.
After eighteen lashes, Marshall Nowak was sweating profusely. He set down the strap and rubbed Julia's upper back. "You took that very well. Your mother would be so proud of you." He unfastened Julia's restraints but told her to take all the time she needed before getting up. He said he would give her some privacy while she composed herself.
After Marshal Nowak exited the room, Julia's father looked down at the tube of ointment in his hand. He then looked at the state of Julia's bottom. He wasn't comfortable with the thought of what he had to do next but she definitely needed it.
After her bottom had been soothed somewhat by the ointment, Julia had stood up and carefully pulled her panties up over her sore bottom. After saying goodbye to Marshal Nowak, Julia and her father headed to the car. As they were driving home, Julia was sitting on a folded leg to keep pressure off her butt. "I'm so sore," she complained. "Good thing this isn't part of the Filina tradition as well."
Her father chuckled. "Not for your eighteenth birthday, but we do have a tradition for twentieth birthdays that involves spanking."