It was his turn next. What a thing to happen on Christmas Day, he was going to get his first caning. It had all started out innocently enough. His elder brother had been given a new rugby ball for Christmas and they had started passing it to each other across the sitting room, it had all been innocent fun in the high spirits of Christmas morning. If the weather had been warmer the two boys would no doubt have gone outside to use the new ball but it was cold and wet. The play had got rougher and at that point their father had looked in to the room and warned them to calm down before something was broken. They had stopped for a few minutes before starting again. Their father looked in again and gave one last warning, Christmas Day or not, the game was to cease immediately. The boys had settled and they started the game again, nothing would happen but then it did, the ball caught a lamp which fell to the ground and broke. Their father looked in, saw the mess and looked at the boys, they both recognised the look in his eye as they were ordered to clean up the mess and go to their respective rooms.
Tidying the mess had taken a few minutes during which time there had been some nervous chatter. His brother had been caned before on many occasions, he had not. Up until his twelfth birthday he had been given the tawse by his father when he had misbehaved. He had been warned that once he was twelve he would 'graduate' and like his older brother he would be caned for misbehaviour. In the three weeks since his birthday he had avoided any punishment and now he was to get the cane on Christmas Day. He knew from his brother that it hurt a great deal more than the tawse and that had a fierce sting. He had seen the canes his father used often enough, they hung on the inside of the door of the hall cupboard alongside the now redundant tawse, they were all about a metre long and almost a centimetre thick. He had seen the red stripes on his brother's bottom, five parallel stripes and one crossing over them like a five barred gate, now he would get the same.
They made their way upstairs, at the top, his brother smiled and patted him on the shoulder before going into his own room and closing the door, the younger boy did the same, now he could only wait, would he be dealt with first or second, he had no idea. Their father generally kept the boys waiting to anticipate their punishment and today was no exception. The younger boy sat quietly wishing he had never thrown the rugby ball and also that this was now all over.
It was about thirty minutes later that he heard his father's footsteps on the stairs, he felt his heart start to beat faster, he was about to be punished. He stood up, waiting for the door handle to turn, his father never knocked on the bedroom doors. His father reached the landing and he heard his brother's bedroom door open and close, he was going to be second. He heard no sound of voices through the wall but suddenly there was a loud SWOOOSHH followed by a louder CRAAACKK, the same series of sounds repeated at intervals of about five seconds five more times. Thirty seconds and it was all over. He heard his brother's bedroom door open and close. He stood transfixed watching the handle of his own door. It turned and the door opened, his father entered the room and closed the door. He still had the same look of grim determination on his face, the cane in his right hand pointing at the ground. He stepped across the room and drew the chair from under the desk. The boy knew what was expected of him, he went to the back of the chair and loosened his trousers, his fingers feeling clumsy as he undid the belt and zip, he pushed them down to his knees, his white underpants following and resting on the trousers. He bent forward over the chair, his father moved forward, tucking his shirt out of the way. His father stepped back and took up position, admiring his son's boyish, chubby little bottom, the taught buttocks, pale and silky smooth but not for much longer.
He raised the cane to shoulder height and brought it down swiftly there was a loud SWOOOSHH followed by a louder CRAAACKK and a red stripe leapt to the surface of the flawless buttocks. The boy gasped, a new sensation of pain enveloped him. The heavy cane descended again, a second red stripe joining the first, the boy gasped again, a film of tears on his eyes. The third stroke added a third perfectly parallel stripe, his father was an expert at this, the boy gasped for breath again as stroke number four landed. He fought back the tears, number five cut perfectly across the crease of his underbottom and he stifled a howl. His father adjusted his position slightly and brought the cane down one more time with force, this stripe crossing the five previous ones. He stood back and watched at the sixth red stripe rose perfectly joining the other five. His son would remember this Christmas for several years to come, he took one last look at his work, the five barred gate was clearly visible, he was aware that he had just caused the most painful thirty seconds of his younger son's life. He stepped away and left the room.
The boy stayed over the chair, he couldn't believe how sore his bottom was, it felt like an inferno, he let his tears run now as he tried to stand straight. Gently he moved his hands over his bottom, he could feel the heat and also the stripes where the cane had landed. Carefully he rubbed, that had always helped after the tawse, it was agony at first but as he did, the inferno gave way to a fiery glow that seemed to spread through his nether regions in a way that he had never felt before, his _c_o_c_k_ grew harder than it ever had and he rubbed that too, perhaps there was more to the cane than a sore bottom....