"They make them in varying degrees of severity. The lashes are sometimes made of twine or rope, for very small boys I'd say, and leather of different thickness, sometimes straight, sometimes plaited. Basil will be happy to hear that we are getting him the most severe kind, thick leather thongs that really bite. You use it like you would a birch rod, across the buttocks, between them, between the legs, just about anywhere you want without causing any lasting damage."
"I'll be looking forward to using it," Miss Walker smiled. "Although Basil might not share these feelings."
"Oh, and Susan," Herman Gorthon continued, "why don't you help Miss Walker a little when you have time. Keep an eye on Basil and make sure he behaves. I have the impression that the boy is giving her too much trouble and she can't watch him all the time. So let her know when the boy misbehaves. Miss Walker can then deal with him in her own way."
"Oh, Dad," Susan said, "must I? I don't have time and when my friends are here ...."
"Let's say I'll make it worth your time," Herman Gorthon chortled. "Every time you report him for not behaving properly, regardless who is present, I'll add six-pence to your pocket money. If it's a serious misdemeanour, I'll make it a Pound. What do you say?"
"Oh, all right," Susan said, visibly intrigued by the possibilities. "I'll even get my friends to help."
"All right then. I better get off now. It seems I have to return to the conference room. Good to talk to you." There was a click and the phone went dead. Miss Walker disconnected the speaker. There was silence in the room for a moment except for the soft sobbing coming from the far corner. Perhaps the boy, standing with his shorts around his ankles, was not too enthused by the conversation he had just been witness to.
"Basil, you will remain there until I come back. Then it will be an hour's run around the lake followed by a good, long swim. I don't think the lake has iced over yet. And then another twenty minutes calisthenics while still wet. After that you can come back indoors. Susan will watch so that you don't cheat."
With that, Miss Walker and Susan left the boy to his bleak thoughts.
About an hour later Maureen returned to the study. She held a cane in her hand.
"Basil," she said sharply, "you may come out of your corner now." She watched as the youngster slowly turned and shuffled towards her. He was about to draw up his shorts, when Maureen interrupted.
"Did I say you could pull your shorts up?" she snapped.
"Er – no, Miss." The boy's face, still wet with tears, flushed.
"You won't learn, will you? I think six strokes should make a nice reminder, don't you think?"
"Y-yes, Miss," Basil mumbled, his face twitching.
"Good. And what about that noise coming down the stairs when I called you? I suppose you also forgot my rules about not making noise inside the house?"
"I – I'm sorry, Miss. It was just that – "
"Enough with excuses, young man. Another six should be adequate. I suggest you get back over that chair."
Basil started to cry. "But, Miss, I'm so sore! Just an hour ago.... the tawse.... Please, Miss!"
"Over the chair, boy," Maureen thundered. "Three extra. If you make me wait any longer, I will add another six."
Tears running down his cheeks, Basil went to the chair and bent over its back, face in the seat, streaked bottom once more invitingly raised and open.
"You heard your mother, Basil, "Maureen said, tapping the wealed flesh with her cane. "I've been too lenient with you and will have to be more severe with you in the future. Very well, if you insist on disobeying order and rules, there is no other option but a sound caning. Which you will now get."
She aimed her strokes perfectly, just at the demarkation between buttocks and thighs, where the tawse had done its major work before. She whipped the cane down as hard as she could and was pleased to hear the boy's reaction. The high-pitched scream after each impact assured her that the pain was properly instructing the child. She took her time between each cut to let the effects sink in. After the scream had died down and the boy had somewhat recovered, she administered the next stroke. The dozen took no more than 2 or 3 minutes but to Basil it seemed an eternity. The pain was so deep, so hot, he needed all his will power to remain in position. But if he had learned anything in the last few weeks, it was not to get out of position during or after a whipping unless so instructed.
After the twelfth cut, Maureen replaced the cane. She eyed the thick cane stripes across the boy's plump little cheeks and seemed satisfied with her efforts.
"Very well, Basil, you may get up. Step out of your shorts and ask Susan to give you your gym shorts and take you to the lake. You will also ask her to supervise your run and your swim and to let me know the moment you misbehave. I warn you, Basil. No more mischief or I won't hesitate to take the birch to your bottom. Now go."
About ten minutes later Maureen watched the children from her window as they walked towards the lake. She smiled as she saw the boy, clad only on his brief, tight play shorts and singlet, walk awkwardly, with stiff knees and body slightly inclined, in obvious pain. The run will do him good, Maureen thought. Loosen up those stiff joints. And the swim should refresh him afterwards. If he's cold, the calisthenics will warm him up again. She went to her desk and started to work on next week's budget.
It was close to noon when the children returned. Susan was warmly dressed in coat, scarf and hat, while young Basil looked quite out of sorts. He didn't seem to know whether to feel cold or hot. He was out of breath but his legs were blue with cold, covered with goose bumps.
"Well, Susan," Maureen inquired sternly, meeting them at the door, "did Basil behave?"
Susan looked at her young brother. "I told him he wasn't running as fast as he should but he paid no attention," she said. "I also told him that his swim was five minutes short. Again he disregarded my comment."
Maureen looked at the shivering boy. "Why didn't you obey, Basil, when Susan told you what to do?"
"But, Miss, I was running as fast as I could and the swim was so exhausting. The water is freezing and I just couldn't swim any longer."
"You will have to be trained properly and soon you will be able to run faster and swim longer, I can assure you, my boy. I think I promised you the birch if you disobeyed again. Isn't that right?"
"Y-yes, Miss," Basil whispered, close to tears yet again, "but I tried. I really tried."
"Obviously you didn't try hard enough. So take your play shorts off and come to the study. Susan, bring two rods, would you? From the pail near the kitchen."
"Yes, Miss Walker," Susan said with enthusiasm and rushed away, eager not to miss anything.
Basil, bare from the waist to his ankle socks, was propelled into the study. Maureen pointed to the chair and the boy slowly shuffled towards it.
"Oh, please, Miss," he wailed, "please don't beat me again. My bottom hurts so much; that's why I couldn't run so fast. Please." He looked pleadingly up to his governess. Maureen was unmoved.
"Get across the chair, boy, this instant. You say your bottom hurts? Well, it's going to hurt a great deal more, I can promise you that. And the more fuss you make, the worse it's going to be for you. Do you really think I'm going to let you get away with this sort of disobedience? Tomorrow I'm goingto supervise your physical exercise personally. You will increase your speed and I will be there with my stopwatch. And you'll stay in that lake until I give you permission to come out. I don't care how cold you think the water is. I am responsible for your physical as well as mental health and I don't intend to neglect either. So, over you go. Susan should be here any moment with the rods. And, by God, you'll feel them!"
As if on cue, Susan rushed in holding two long, green, dripping birch rods. She put one on the floor and handed Maureen the other one. Then she sat on a nearby chair to watch.
"Miss Walker," she said, "you will tell my father that I helped, won't you? He said he'd give me more pocket money if I supervised Basil."
"Yes, Susan," Maureen said with a little smile, "I'll tell him how helpful your have been." And with that the took up her position, raised the birch high and delivered her famous forehand with such skill that the tips, thick with hard buds, curled around the boy's left cheek, into the cleft and between the legs. As expected, the bending boy shrieked and almost jumped up. He controlled himself just in time but he dearly wanted to protect his smarting buttocks with his hands, if only he dared.
Slowly, systematically, Maureen Walker flogged the boy's buttocks with a will. She aimed for all those most sensitive areas and found them with such precision that the naughty little boy just lay over the chair back and blubbed noisily. Undeterred by the boy's antics, and perhaps encouraged by them, she whipped the boy relentlessly and mercilessly for perhaps ten full minutes. She stopped only when she saw that the boy's skin was getting flayed in certain parts, low down where he would have to perch on the hard seat at his desk, between the buttocks and between the legs and inner thighs.
"Here, Susan, you can throw this rod away. It's useless. But please return the second one to the pail. I will use it tomorrow." They ignored the odd noises coming from the chair seat.
"Come here, Basil and stand before me. Hands behind your neck." When the boy had obeyed, struggling up with great difficulty and then carefully waddling, legs spread, towards her, she continued, "I don't know what I'm going to do with you, Basil. No matter how hard I try, you don't seem to be inclined to obey orders or behave the way a small boy is expected to behave. I have no compunction in thrashing you every day, several times a day if need be, but I will be obeyed. Mr. Pryor had offered to take you to his school for a few days or weeks. Would you want that?"
The boy, his face flushed and wet with tears, his narrow chest still heaving from the exertion, squirmed before her. He looked down at his feet. "I – I don't know, Miss," he said in a tentative voice. "Would I have to live there?"
"I have thought of taking a few days off. Susan suggested she stay with her friend Joanie and you would therefore live at the school during that time. Mr. Pryor has promised to keep you under strict discipline and will encourage all the other masters to use the cane liberally. You have felt Mr. Pryor's canings, my boy, and I understand that he insists all masters cane that way. He has introduced his special canes of which the boys at the school live inconstant fear."
Basil didn't answer. He felt his whipped bottom burning and throbbing and it was hard to think about anything else. Would he like living with other boys? He could commiserate with them about the beatings at least. And nasty Susan wouldn't be there to snitch on him.
"Yes, Miss," he finally ventured, "I think I would like to live at that school for a while. I haven't many friends here."
"Yes, that's true. Well, we'll see. I'll talk to Mr. Pryor about it. But now it's time for your bath, then lunch. Afterwards we'll have lessons. When Mr. Pryor gets here later tonight, he will review your school work, so you'd better pay close attention and not make any mistakes. He doesn't care about a boy's sore backside, as you may remember, and I wouldn't advise inviting his cane across those skinned parts of your bottom so soon."
After lunch, Basil spent most of the afternoon bent over his school books. Sitting was so very uncomfortable and no amount of shifting from one buttock to the other could alleviate the constant throbbing pain in all his lower regions.
It was getting dark outside by the time Jack Pryor arrived. Maureen Walker opened the door and a freezing wind blew into the house.
"Whew!" Jack slammed the door behind him, rubbing his hands. "It looks like a snow storm is building up. A bit early in the season."
After removing his hat and coat, he and Maureen went to the kitchen for a cup of tea to warm him up.
"Jack, I had a telephone call from the Gorthons," Maureen said, sipping at her steaming cup. She sat facing Jack across the small table near the stove. "They tell me they might stay away longer than planned and gave me permission to take some holidays. Susan will be all right with one of her friends, but I thought you'd take Basil to your school for the duration. He seems to take to the idea of meeting other boys and says he wants to go. What do you think? There will be no fee for the school."
"Oh, don't worry about fees," Jack laughed. "One boy more or less isn't going to make a difference. Does he know how discipline is kept there? Maybe he thinks his bottom will be safer there than here." He laughed again.
"I warned him. I told him you'd keep an eye on him and make sure he gets the cane regularly. I guess he thinks he's getting the same here, so it won't make much difference."
"Well, I may have a surprise for him," Jack said. "My boys don't get a minute respite during the entire school day. Every master has complete freedom to punish the boys as he sees fit, provided to permanent damage is done. Of course I keep close watch on what's going on, so there are no excesses. We have to think of the darlings' parents. Naturally, when the boys are enrolled, the parents are given the schools rules and regulations, including the disciplinary system. So most of them heartily approve of our methods. I am certain that the Gorthons will approve as well."
"Yes, they do. I already broached the subject with them. Basil would be a boarder, of course. Would that be a problem?"
"No, because when the school opens again, "I will be living there, too. You will have to come and visit if you're not travelling because I can't leave."
"Good. I really appreciate this. I need a rest."
"Where's Basil?" Jack asked later, as they were sitting over a glass of wine.
"He's upstairs, studying for tomorrow's lessons. I told him you would review his progress after you came home."
"Right. I'll just go upstairs and see how he is progressing." With that, Jack finished his drink and went upstairs.
"Well, Basil," he said as he opened the boy's room's door. "How are the lessons coming, eh, boy?"
"I'm doing my best, sir," the boy said nervously, his eyes darting to the strap lying on his desk.
"Well, let's just see what your best looks like," Jack said and sat down next to the boy. "Let's start with history." He picked up the short, thick strap andf played with it as if it were a small pet, which perhaps it was.
Lessons went badly. The boy had obviously not studied hard enough and his memorisation was fitful. After just the first hour both his bare thighs were a mass of angry red welts turning purple around the edges of the strap's imprint, especially on the softer, inner parts. Again and again he faltered in his replies and the strap cracked sharply across the red skin. After the second hour, young Basil was blubbering once more. Tears running down his face, he was made to recall names and dates from history, locations on the globe and even poems from famous poets. He bleated his answers, anticipating the crack across his thigh, and got them all wrong.
At last, an exasperated Jack Pryor threw down the strap, took the boy by an ear and dragged him from his chair. Maureen Walker, working at the desk in the study, looked up when Jack propelled the wailing child into the room. She took in the boy's red, tear-stained face, his small hands clamped around Jack's big one that held the boy's ear in a painful grip, running on tip-toes to keep up with the man's stride.
"This boy is impossible," Jack exploded when the door had closed. "He just will not study. I've never seen a lazier, more stupid boy in my life. I intend to give him such a sound thrashing that he will be more careful in the future when preparing his lessons."
Maureen scowled at the whimpering boy. "He certainly deserves it," she said, her eyes on the boy's wealed thighs. "The tawse is on that table."
"Basil, shorts off and over the chair," Jack commanded in a steely voice. He walked over to the table, gripped the heavy, three-tailed tawse and approached the boy who had obediently bared his mistreated backside and bent over the back of the chair, face once more buried in the leather cushion of the chair seat.
Maureen put down the papers she had been perusing, leaned back in her chair and watched as Jack got to work on that lazy little schoolboy. It was a long, drawn-out affair, and a very noisy one. Basil's behind had not recovered from all the previous attention that had been given it and his howls and roars filled the room. After a while, the boy's buttocks were visibly swelling up.
Jack continued the punishment, ignoring the boy's remonstrations, whipping the tawse all across the buttocks, aiming in particular at those skinned parts. The thighs received an additional, generous share of stripes. At last Jack put down the tawse and studied the results of his efforts. Satisfied, he went to the cupboard and brought out a 3-foot cane, one of his favourites. Not too thin but very pliable, yellowish in colour and a bevelled tip, it was a prime example of an efficient school cane. He swished it through the air as he approached the boy once more.
"Twelve strokes, my boy," he announced. "And I hope this lesson sinks in. Next time I'll double the dose."
The boy's protests were ignored and twelve times the cane ripped into the crimson, bruised backside of the bending boy. Basil was too hoarse and tired to yell anymore, he just whimpered as the hot pain seared through his buttocks, praying that it would end soon.
"Into the corner," Jack said, "hands at neck-rest."
Maureen and Jack watched with amusement as the boy struggled up and shuffled slowly into his corner. They approved of the punishment's results: a bruised, wealed, swollen pair of buttocks. This boy required this kind of severity. It was all for his own good.
There was a knock on the door and Susan appeared, her face bright with excitement.
"Miss Walker, can we have a pyjama party here tonight. Some of my friends got together and we tossed a coin to see at whose house it would be. And I won! If it's all right, they will all be here by nine o'clock and stay until tomorrow around noon. Would that be all right? Please?"
"My goodness, this is short notice," Maureen Walker said with a sigh. "But I guess it'll be all right. How many are coming?"
"Oh, just Joanie and Helen, and three more. We'll be six altogether."
"Six? And you will all fit into your bedroom?" Maureen asked with a little smile.
"Well, I thought we could use the sitting room for that one night. We'll all have sleeping bags. We first wanted to do it with tents outside, but it's gotten too cold by now. That's okay then?"
"Very well, you may tell your friends to come at nine."
Susan eyed her brother's form in the corner for a moment, then rushed out of the room.
"Thank you, thank you," she called on her way out. "I'll just go and tell the girls."