Stephen pushed a hand down the back of his grey school shorts, slipped his fingers beneath his white underpants, and thoughtfully massaged the cool, silky skin of his bottom cheeks. How long would they remain cool and silky ? Not long he feared, as he heard his father slitting open an official looking envelope in the kitchen. Stephen had a fair idea of the letter's contents, and they boded ill for his ripe, boyish bottom
Carefully, he squeezed and probed each smooth buttock in turn, testing each one for firmness and resilience, gauging how much punishment they would absorb. He took as his yardstick the painful memories of the many spankings he had suffered at his fathers hands over the years. Over the knee, pants down, and as many as fifty ringing, stinging hard slaps on each quivering buttock. Of course, the tears would be flowing long before the twenty-fifth burning slap, but he could take it, he must take it. It wouldn't do to make a childish scene, especially with his older brother looking on.
Sometimes he reminded himself, the glowing pain coursing through his buttocks after a sound spanking, wasn't all that unpleasant.... But--- his stomach turned as a sudden awful thought hit him, what if his father reached for the gymslipper instead ? He remembered how it made it's unexpected appearance on the occasion of his last spanking. It was only twenty-five whacks on each cheek then, but the pain had been infinitely worse. He closed his eyes as anguished memories flooded back. He seemed to feel again the smarting pain as the springy rubber sole of the man sized gymshoe thwacked away remorselessly across his tender bottom.
He opened his eyes, pulled the hand out of his shorts, and gritted his teeth. Very well !!! if it was to be the gymshoe, so be it. He would take every whack, even pushing his bottom out for more to prove that he could take his punishment like a man. After all, he WANTED to be treated like a man, not a silly little boy. That,in essence, was the real reason for the punishment he was sure he was about to undergo. Pulling up his shorts neatly, he took a deep breath, opened the kitchen door, and went to face his father.
Mallory didn't even look up as his son entered and took his place at the breakfast table. His eyes were fixed firmly on the letter he had just opened. It was not good news, it was the kind of news that in his daily routine as headmaster of an exclusive boy's school, would cause him to reach for his whippiest cane. Father and son resembled each other to a remarkable degree, Stephen had already inherited his father's blond good looks! while at forty, Mallory had retained the athletic physique of which he was justly proud. His elder son Terry, had inherited the dark-haired, greeneyed looks of their Irish mother who had died the year before. But in the boys healthy, anglo-saxon features, Mallory recognised much of himself, and was secretly pleased at the promise the boy was showing as an athlete. At the moment however, the only features of the boys that interested him was their bottoms, and the attention he was about to pay them.
Mallory spent a good deal of his working day dealing with naughty boys and their bottoms. The success of his school owed much to his disciplinarian views, and the willingness with which the parents approved of his strict methods. He combined a progressive attitude to teaching with an almost victorian belief in the virtues of corporal punishment, as many a boy had discovered to his cost, not least amongst them because they were the headmaster's sons. If anything, he treated them with even more severity for just that reason.
And while for the other boys the start of the school holidays meant a welcome break from the headmaster's ever-ready cane, no such relief was afforded Stephen and Terry.
Mallory finished reading the letter and passed it to his youngest son. "Have you any explanation for this ?" he enquired, with a voice carefully controlled anger. A blush spread over Stephen's usually cheerful face as he saw the heading on the letter. It was, as he had expected, from the school outfitters. The manager respectfully enquired as to whether the trousers which master Stephen had recently ordered were to be placed on the school bill or his father's private account. "Since when have you been in the habit of ordering your own clothes ?" "You know I'm not Daddy, but....."Stephen faltered. If hoping that using the childish name would soften his father, he was sadly mistaken. Mallory's voice became colder as he probed for an answer. " You said I could have long trousers for my birthday and that's only a few weeks away....." " You thought you would jump the gun," Mallory's searching glance turned on his eldest son who was shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "Who put that into your head, I wonder ?" Mallory knew his sons well. They could hide nothing from him, and they knew it. Terry keeping his eyes fixed on his cornflakes bowl, confessed. " I'm afraid I encouraged him, Sir, we didn't think the shop would get in touch with you so soon." " You know how I hate wearing shorts in school," Stephen blurted out. "I just wanted to..." "Don't worry about that son," Mallory snapped. " You won't be wearing any in a few minutes from now !"
He watched the boys' faces drop as they heard the inevitable confirmed. He allowed them to exchange sorrowful glances before dropping his bombshell. " I propose to cane you both." The sharp intake of breath was loudest from the younger boy. " Yes I'm aware that Stephen has only been spanked until now, but since he wishes to grow up and put on long trousers he must learn to accept punishment with the senior cane." " Go up to your room and Terry will hold you down before I deal with the prime instigator. That is," he added politely, "unless either of you prefer a little more breakfast?" Both boys shook their heads miserably and slowly left the table." I shall be up in five minutes, " said their father, " and I shall expect to find Stephen ready for his punishment I want your shorts and underpants down!" The tears began to well in Stephen's eyes as he instinctively placed both hands on the seat of his tight school grey shorts and looked at his father in mute appeal.
"Come on, old chap" whispered Terry, " the quicker we prepare ourselves, the sooner it'll all be over."
Mallory's ears caught the whisper. "Don't count on it," he said in the cold tone they both dreaded. " Gym shorts for you, Terry." he said as they left the room.
Alone,Mallory's stern expression faded and he began to look quiet cheerful as he went into his study to select a suitable cane. Being honest with himself, he couldn't deny a certain exhileration whenever indulging in a spot of boy whacking, he knew he shouldn't, he tried to smother the feeling, and he certainly never gave an undeserved whacking, but he would never let a boy off when punishment was merited. Let the boys themselves offer him the opportunities he desired, was his motto, and they never let him down.
The fact that on this particular occasion the boys to be whacked were his own sons made little difference to his feeling. Both had eminently beatable bottoms. Terry's chubby young bottom had a charm of it's own. Mallory smiled as his thoughts lingered lovingly over Stephen's tight little bottom. He hadn't meant to cane him until after his next birthday, but he genuinely felt that this offence deserved a more sever retribution that the bare bottom spankings incurred by Stephen's usual boyish misdemeanors.
Upstairs Terry was pulling on his white cotton gym shorts while Stephen slowly and reluctantly took down his grey shorts and white cotton underpants. He shivered slightly as a breeze wafted in through the open window and carressed his neither cheeks. Terry quickly closed the casement and ruffled his brother's curley blond hair sympathetically. "It's not so bad for you," Stephen muttered, " at least you've got some protection from your shorts." "Only for a while," said Terry from the depths of his experience. " He'll have these off when he is halfway through!" "Then again, your bottom's bigger than mine." "Which means he'll whack it harder." " I wonder how many strokes we're likely to get ? Does it hurt an awful lot ? Oh, Terry, you will hold me down properly, won't you ? I couldn't bear it if daddy thought I wasn't tough enough to take it!" " I know you'll be O.K....," said Terry, more to reassure himself than his brother, The kid looks so _d_a_m_n_ed young and helpless, he thought. Hope the old man won't be too hard on him, and yet...Terry wouldn't express it to himself, but subconsciously he wanted to see the effect of the cane on Stephen's bottom, and somehow he realised that this sharing of the same punishment would bring them even closer together. Terry had a strong affection for his younger brother and in certain ways tried to make up to him for the loss of their mother. "we'd better clear the books off the table," he said. "That's where Dad deals with me, of course, he may want you across the bed, I don't know what he intends to do this time"
They were so busy moving the table into the middle of the room they didn't hear Mallory's footsteps on the stairs, it was only when the door suddenly opened and he stood there, canes in hand, that they became aware of their father's presence.
Mallory had selected two canes, a supple Nilgheri for Terry and a lighter but equally serviceable Malacca for Stephen. " Oh Daddy " said Stephen tearfully as he stood there bare-legged. " I'll 'oh daddy' you, my lad!" promissed his father. " Put two pillows in the middle of the bed and lie across them, Terry, moved round to the other side and hold his arms while I get ready." He slowly removed his jacket and hung it on the back of the chair, and standing where both boys could see him, he rolled up his shirt sleeves over his muscular arms. Terry placed Stephen's arms into the small of his back, leaning forward a little as he did so, thus bringing Stephen's curly head into contact with his groin and effectively shielding it from his father's eyes.
Mallory made a few slight adjustments to Stephen's position, forcing him to open his legs a little wider, then he slowly rolled the boy's shirt up his back and into Terry's grasp, thereby exposing Stephen's bottom to his eye and cane. The buttocks were boyishly plump, but the skin was delicate and flawless, in contrast to the sun-tanned young thighs and legs. The cheeks twitched in anticipation as Mallory picked up the lighter cane and drew it across them.
" I'm going to give you eight, you will count each one, and as this is your first caning I shall wait until you say 'Ready Sir' before the next stroke. If however you forget or miscount, we shall start all over again, I feel it is only fair to warn you." Stephen made no reply. " Do you understand me, young man ?" his father sharply demanded. " Yes Daddy," mumbled the trembling boy. " Right," said Mallory. "Here comes the first stroke " and lifting the cane brought it down swiftly across the centre of Stephen's bottom. For a split second there was no reaction. then, as the vivid weal sprang up into sight, Stephen's buttocks plunged frantically and his legs jerked spasmodically. a muffled scream came from the region of Terry's crutch. "Count !" commanded Mallory, unmoved by his son's distress. After a moment, STephen gasped! "One Sir!" and, making a brave effort, stiffened for the next stroke. " Relax your buttocks, I shall not continue until you are ready." A second pause, and Stephen dutifully relaxed his quivering buttocks, "Ready Sir," said his small voice, and again the cane hissed through the air, and a second weal was imprinted just below the first.
This time Terry had some difficulty holding Stephen down, and both father and son watched a bead of sweat trickle down Stephen's back and disappear in the cleft between his cheeks. Stephen twisted his bottom from side to side in agony although his father was only using moderate strength and was carefully placing his strokes. "Two Sir," sobbed the boy, and then, "Ready Sir." Mallory waited a little before placing the third stroke above the first weal which showed crimson purple on the white flesh. Stephen's lithe young body heaved and plunged, the cry " Three Sir!" was wrenched from his lips, then he suddenly relaxed as he called "Ready Sir!" his bottom rose to meet the stroke. ' Good Lord' thought Mallory, 'He can't be enjoying it, Not at his age! can he !!!!' Nevertheless, he brought the cane down crisply and accurately, and Stephen shrieked as the Malacca seared his tender flesh.
"You may have a pause, and then the final four. " Terry released his brother's arms and Stephen rolled over, gasping for breath, his face stained with tears. Both Terry and their father were aware of the boy's obvious agony. Terry put his arms around the quivering boy and questioned his father with his eyes. Stephen wriggled free, reluctant even at this stage to reveal any sign of weakness. " You're taking it very well," Mallory said" Do you want me to stop there and give you the rest tomorrow?"
"N-no!, Daddy," stammered his son. " I6d rather get it over with now. B-but it's so sore!" His voice broke and he quickly turned over and held out his arms to Terry displaying his well marked little bottom as he did so. Mallory paused, considering where to lay the next stroke. He didn't want to cause the boy unnecessary suffering and he secretly wondered if the sentence had been excessive, but he knew he couldn't go back on it now, it would lose him the respect of both boys, and discipline must be maintained.
Stephen's "Ready Sir" interrupted his thoughts and recalled him to his duty. This time he flicked lightly but expertly, diagonally across the weals on the right cheek, and Stephen writhed as the new sensation hit home. "Five!" he gasped, and after a moment, "Sir!" Slowly the small buttocks relaxed and the small voice whispered1 "Ready, Sir"
Neither Mallory nor Terry could mistake the gesture with which the younger boy raised his bottom for the stroke to come, and as the cane bit into the left cheek it was accepted almost as a kiss. " S-six Sir! Ready Sir!" and then he really screamed as the cane flashed down and scorched it's mark along the crease where thighs meet buttocks. Mallory had determined on this, the most sensitive part of the under bottom, for the last two strokes. He knew the boy would find sitting almost impossible if these strokes were accurately placed and he wanted him to remember this first caning at his father's hands for a long time to come. Accordingly, when Stephen had recovered sufficiently to state the number and declare himself ready for the next and final stroke. Mallory brought the cane down on top of the previous weal. With a loud cry, Stephen tore himself free from his brothers's grasp and, twisting round, threw himself into Mallory's arms. All the coldness gone, the man soothed and comforted the boy as best he could. He kissed the tear stained face, then placed him gently to one side.
Mallory then picked up the heavier cane and motioned Terry towards the table, his elder son could feel his father's appraising eyes on him as he positioned himself across the table and surrendered his bottom for punishment. He was proud of his body, and although he had none of Stephen's engaging puppy fat, he knew that his torso was beautifully defined for his age, and that his firm young bottom jutted out provocatively as his crisp white cotton shorts were stretched to their utmost by his bent-over position.
LAying down the cane for a moment, Mallory grasped the waistband of the boy's shorts and gave it a tug so that the centre seam disappeared into the cleft between Terry's buttocks. The well-laundered cotton moulded Terry's contours like a second skin, and as Mallory picked up the cane and positioned himself for the first stroke he was keenly aware of his son's neither charmes.
A moment later, Terry was also aware of his neither regions, But for a different reason! The first scorching cut brought the water to his eyes and he had difficulty in holding himself over the table. " You forgot to count," said Mallory after a suitable pause. " I shall give you an extra one for that, but you needn't trouble to thank me after each stroke or say 'Ready Sir', I doubt if you find breath since I intend this to be a caning you will remember. I shall therefore give you six across the seat of your shorts and the rest on your bare bottom."
"Oh Sir!" gasped Terry and he griped the table as the second cut came hissing down. Four more followed in quick succession, the rod thwacking solidly into the tight white seat of the boy's shorts. Between each stroke, Mallory observed the twisting contorting buttocks with a certain dispassionate interest. Abruptly, he turned to Stephen who had been watching the beating of his brother with wide and tear filled eyes while rubbing his own stinging cheeks. " Stop wriggling boy and hold this." said his father, handing the Nilgheri.
Mallory then turned to Terry and, lifting the boy's hips slightly. peeled the shorts down over the fulsome buttocks and smooth thighs. Terry moaned a little as the fabric rasped over his weals, and wished he'd left the window open to cool his flaring bottom as it was exposed.
Mallory gave him a few minutes to regain his composure as best he could, then enquired if he was ready. Unable to speak, Terry nodded. The dark curls on the nape of his neck were damp with sweat as the faint odour of well-whipped boy flesh began to permeate the room.
The next four cuts were delivered more slowly but with with biting force. The weals, Stephen noticed, were white for an instant against the crimson of the rest, but they quickly darkened to purple red as Mallory laid them neatly, one beside the other.
Terry yelled as one stroke caught him right on the crease, his father's favourite spot,then yelled again as the last two seared across his unprotected thighs. Unable to control himself any longer, he slid from the table and twisted frantically on the carpet, but in his agony he was beyond caring.
"Control yourself and pull up your shorts," said Mallory tersely. " And you can get dressed too, Stephen. You can both take your time before coming downstairs. It's all over now, so for heaven's sake try not to get into any more trouble before the end of the holidays!!!"
As he left the room, the boys were in each others arms. H e knew they would find ways of comforting each other, and later there would be the secret comparing of stripes. In Stephen's case particularly, those stripes would be the badges of manhood. He genually hoped it would be a considerable time before he needed to discipline either of them again, as he replaced the canes and locked the cupboard door,he wondered.
AFTER ALL, BOYS WILL BE BOYS.
AND BOY'S BOTTOMS WILL ALWAYS BE BEATEN....................