A Poor Memory


by Jason Howe <Jasonhowe250@hotmail.com>

"Go and get me the whip, please Son."

"Yes, Sir," Simon replied without hesitation, but extremely concerned with this direction from his father.

The boy very quickly returned with the whip in his hand.

"Now, why do you think I've asked you to fetch the whip?"

"I'm not sure, Dad. Am I going to be punished?"

"Quite possibly. It will all depend upon your memory, young man."

"I don't understand what you mean, Dad. Have I been disobedient?"

"Well, yesterday you were told to do something and you haven't done it, young man, and I am not at all pleased, to say the least," Simon's father replied.

"I'm sorry, Dad," the boy stammered.

"Well, what did I tell you to do, Son?" Simon's father asked.

"I'm sorry, Dad. I've forgotten."

"I'm sorry, you keep saying. That's not a good enough answer. You've got a poor memory •

"But I can't remember what I was supposed to do, Dad."

"In that case, strip down to your briefs and we'll see if we can assist your memory."

Simon handed his father the whip and immediately stripped to his briefs, as he was instructed. He wondered what he had done wrong.

"Well, how's the memory now young man? What were you supposed to do this morning?"

"I'm not sure," the boy replied.

"I'll give you a clue. Yesterday, I told you to write me an essay on the importance of instant obedience and to give it to me first thing this morning. Is it coming back to you now, Simon?"

"Oh, yes."

"Oh yes! Now he remembers. Do you also remember just why you had to write me an essay?"

"No, Sir."

"You've got to be joking, surely, Simon? You're not a little child anymore. You're sixteen years old!"

"Dad. I honestly can't remember."

"Well, I think you know from experience the best way to help you to remember, don't you, Simon?"

"Yes, Sir."

"And what's that?"

"A whipping?"

"Yes. That's usually the best solution, isn't it? Now get your briefs off young man and get yourself over the desk."

"How many I am going to get?"

"Just as many as it takes you to remember why you had to write me an essay. You can tell me to stop as soon as you remember why you were instructed to write me an essay on instant obedience. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

Simon hoped he would remember quickly.

Both Simon and his dad knew, from experience, that the most effective form of discipline was a good flogging across the bare buttocks. Sometimes, a bamboo cane was used but on this occasion it was the whip that was to be administered.

The whip was a solid strip of leather around a metre in length, split into seven supple thongs at the receiving end. The pain was excruciating, but providing it was given severely and in sufficient quantity, the result was always most effective.

Simon spread himself across the desk and grasped the other side firmly to hold himself steady. How many strokes would it take to refresh his memory, he wondered?

"Get your feet apart," his father ordered.

"Sorry, Sir," the boy replied as he spread his feet apart so that his buttocks were exposed for the full force of the punishment.

His father flexed the whip and then positioned the split ends across his son's bottom, ready to take aim and to commence the beating. He then drew it back high over his shoulders in readiness for the first stroke. The whip flew through the air culminating in a loud thwack as the seven supple thongs of leather were laid to rest across his son's naked bottom. As each stroke flayed across Simon's buttocks, the lad screamed.

It took just four strokes before the boy remembered why he was in trouble.

"I remember, Dad."

"Get up!" his father ordered.

The lad obeyed instantly and as he reached the upright position immediately began to rub his buttocks in an attempt to relieve the excruciating pain.

"What do you remember, Simon?"

"I remember why I was in trouble, Dad."

"Well?"

"Yesterday, when you told me to clean my room up, I was too slow to follow your instruction and you gave me an essay to write on instant obedience."

"Correct. Now your memory is coming back, isn't it? Now when were you supposed to give me that essay, Son?'

"This morning, Dad."

"And, did you?

"No, Sir. I forgot."

"Right, now just to make sure you fully understand. What was the reason you've just been whipped?"

"To help me remember why I got the essay?"

"Right. But that still leaves further punishment for not giving it to me this morning as instructed, doesn't it? So, are you ready for another beating, Son?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Well, get yourself over the desk again."

Simon obeyed instantly.

Again, the whip was administered to the lad's buttocks. This time the boy received six solid lashes. Again, he screamed as each stroke cut across him. Nevertheless, he realised it was his own fault for not giving his father the essay first thing in the morning.

After the sixth stroke, the boy was told to stand and get dressed. He pulled on his singlet and shorts and awaited the next instruction.

"Now, young man. Do you understand why you've just been punished or have you forgotten that, too?" his father enquired.

"I understand, Dad."

"Well, just to make sure you may explain it to me."

"I got four strokes for not remembering why I had to do the essay and another six for not giving it to you first thing this morning."

"Good. So you do understand!" Now, you may go and get me that essay, please."

Simon left to get the essay.

His father placed the whip back in the cupboard and awaited his son's return. He waited and waited. Eventually he called, "What on earth is taking you so long, Simon."

"I can't find it, Dad."

"Well, keep looking and be quick about it."

"Yes, Sir."

Simon didn't know what to do. He knew he hadn't even done the essay and his father would be furious. Now he would be in for another flogging. He was in tears.

"Get back here now," his father called.

Simon returned to the study. He knew what to expect and without being told, again stripped to his briefs.

"Well, where is it?" he asked.

"Dad, you're going to have to punish me again. I haven't done it, yet, Sir."

"You're joking, surely?"

"No, Sir."

"Why didn't you tell me before that you hadn't done the essay?"

"I was too frightened."

"That was stupid because now you're going to get a double punishment. Six for not doing the essay and another six for not telling me before. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

His father immediately returned to the cupboard and retrieved the whip.

"Dad, I know I deserve another whipping. But, please, could I have the cane instead?"

"Well, why do you want the cane instead of another whipping?"

"Because you've just given me ten lashes and I don't want any more of the whip."

"Now I'm really angry. Yesterday when you were in trouble, you were given the lightest punishment possible an essay. You've just proved that light punishments are useless, haven't you? Not only did you forget what you did wrong yesterday, you even forgot to complete the punishment. And now you want another light punishment with the cane instead of the whip. You're hopeless at times, Simon."

"I know. I'm sorry, Dad. I should have asked you to give me a belting yesterday. All boys need a really good thrashing when they've done the wrong thing. The only way I really learn from my mistakes is with a really strong dose of punishment. When I get the whip or the cane across the bare backside, although it really hurts it's the best way of learning to be obedient because the message really gets through to me."

"Do you really believe that's the best way, Son?"

"Yes, Sir. A good flogging sets you straight when you've done the wrong thing and keeps you out of trouble for a long time. You certainly remember a good flogging longer than any other form of punishment, so I guess it does you more good," he added.

"Well, young man, the punishment for not even doing the essay is six strokes and I'm going to use the whip again. You've got to learn."

"Please, Dad?"

"And the punishment for not telling me earlier is another six strokes. If you remain perfectly still for the whipping, I'll consider the second part of your punishment with the cane and that'll be another six strokes. All right?"

"Thank you, Dad."

Simon again removed his briefs and approached the desk. He spread his feet apart as far as possible so his buttocks would take the full force of the flogging and he bent down low.

His father positioned the end thongs across his son's bottom and commenced the beating. Seven thin strands of leather were again laid to rest across Simon's naked bottom.

The boy was determined to remain perfectly still as he counted the punishment to himself: One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five . . . six . . . He screamed with each stroke but he hadn't moved.

"Right. Get up." his father commanded.

Simon stood in immense pain as the seven thongs had so far torn savagely at his flesh on no less than sixteen occasions. His buttocks were raw, but there was still more to come.

"Would you like the rest of your punishment with the cane?"

"Yes, please."

"Right. Assume the punishment position, please, Simon."

Whereas whippings were administered with the boy spread over the desk, the punishment position for a caning required Simon to stand in the centre of the room, to bend over and to touch his toes.

As he did so his father delivered six really solid cuts. Simon wasn't too sure whether it was better than six more strokes of the whip but at least the punishment was now complete.

"Now. Let's hope you've learned a good lesson in obedience."

"I have, Dad."

"O. K. Well, get yourself dressed and we'll both hope it's a long time before you're back for more. Do you agree?"

"For sure."

It was a considerable time before Simon needed more punishment, but when the time came there was no hesitation by his father in administering the necessary correction.


More stories by Jason Howe