The Ritual of Discipline Part 3 The Lecture

The lecture was always long and excrutiatingly painful -mentally, though, not physically.
Physical pain was yet to come!
Mother was an expert in getting the truth, and twisting your words to make them even more incriminating.
I would stand in front of mother, hands wringing, shifting my weight from foot to foot, feeling the emotions rising from the pit of my stomach, and trying to choke back the tears, as I tried desperately to think of any way to get our of what was about to happen!
She would cross and uncross her legs, as the tone of her lecture, and interrogation, rose and fell!
I can still hear that soft swish from her nylons, as her thighs brushed together, and I glanced down at her large lap, picturing myself across it, yelping from the pain!
Often father would be sittng in there, as would one or two of my brothers or sisters, pretending to do homework, or reading a book, but really focussed on what mother was saying, and glancing from time to time taking in my discomforture.
I had watched my sibs in the same predicament so knew just how enjoyable and exiting they were finding the whole thing! And so, so glad it was not them!