The three children were playing in the yard on a hot summer's day. Jane, aged ten; Timothy, aged nine; and Margaret, aged six. Jane and John were wearing bathing suits, while Margaret was wearing underpants and a T-shirt.
Their father appeared in the door and called them. They looked up. He beckoned.
A few minutes later they were sitting on the leather couch in their father's study. He looked at them sternly.
On the desk sat a vase, a priceless family heirloom, broken into several pieces.
"I found this by chance at the bottom of a wastebasket," he said. "Your mother is heartbroken. It came from her grandmother. I believe one of you must have broken it and attempted to hide the evidence. What I want to find out from you now is which one of you is responsible."
The children looked at each other. No one said a word.
"If the guilty party is not going to volunteer I shall have to ask directly. Jane, was it you?"
Jane said, "No, Father." Her voice was strong and clear.
Margaret piped up, "It wasn't me, Daddy!"
He looked at Timothy. "Timothy, was it you?"
Timothy swallowed hard. "N-no, Father, I didn't do it!" The two girls caught each other's eye.
Their father turned his back. "Very well. No one will admit it. Will any of you tell me who did break this vase?"
No one said a word.
He turned back around to face them. "I cannot permit this behavior. I am certain one of you did it and that whoever it was is lying to escape punishment. It won't work. If the one of you who broke the vase does not come forward, I shall punish you all in turn. Do I make myself clear?"
The children said nothing. Margaret looked confused. Jane had a hard, bitter look on her face, and Timothy was blushing.
Their father pulled out the chair from his desk and sat facing them. "You've had your chance. Jane, come here, please."
Jane stood proudly. Her lip quivered but she betrayed no other reaction. She went to her father and bent across his lap. Margaret looked on, wide-eyed with horror, as he spanked Jane's bottom hard. Jane got up, tears running down her cheeks, and sat back on the couch. She struggled to keep from crying.
Timothy was already crying. Their father said, "Now Tim, come here." As he stood up and went to his father, Timothy blubbered, "Oh, please, Father!" But their father said nothing. He put Timothy over his knee and gave him a vigorous spanking. Timothy went and sat back down, bawling loudly.
Margaret was crying now, too. "It's not fair, I didn't do it!"
"If you didn't do it, Margaret, you must tell me who did. Otherwise you must take the same punishment as the others."
"I - I can't!"
He reached out and caught her arm, pulling her to him and flinging her easily over his knee. She, too, received several ringing slaps on the rear.
When he had finished with her she went over to the couch and kicked her brother Timothy. "You beast!" she said through the tears.
Jane then punched her brother's arm. "How could you?" she shouted.
Their father said, "What's this?"
Margaret said, "Timothy did it! He broke the vase and hid it at the bottom of the wastebasket! We saw him!"
Jane said, "It's true! And he wouldn't even admit it, not even now!"
Their father stood. "Timothy, is this true?"
Timothy was still crying. He nodded his head speechlessly.
"Do you mean to say that after your misdeed, you were willing to watch me punish your sisters even though you knew perfectly well it was you alone who deserved a spanking?"
Timothy looked at the floor. Tears dripped from his face.
"Stand up!" Timothy stood, looking fearfully at his father.
"You can't be allowed to get away with this, Tim. Take off your trunks." As he said this, he unbuckled his belt and slid it out, doubling it in his hand.
Timothy hopped from one foot to the other. "Oh, please, Father, not the belt! Not the belt!"
"If ever you deserved it, you deserve it now. It is only fitting that your sisters witness this. Now strip!"
Whimpering piteously, Timothy stepped out of his swimming trunks.
"Girls, get up from the couch and go stand by that wall." The girls got up and stood together against the far wall. Their father pulled the couch out from the wall so that the back of it was facing the girls.
"Timothy, come here and bend right over the back of the couch."
The back of the couch came to just a little above Timothy's waist. By standing on tip-toe, he could bend over it, leaning his arms on the seat and with his head against the cushions. He was bent almost double with his bottom sticking up in the air. His bottom was red from the spanking he had received just a few minutes earlier.
His father raised his arm behind him, then brought the belt cracking forward against Timothy's bottom. Timothy gasped and began to cry again. His father beat him steadily, leaving dark red stripes against his bottom, often striking the backs of his legs as well.
Margaret turned her head away, unwilling to look. But Jane's eyes were bright and she stared eagerly at the flogging. She breathed in unison with her father, almost grunting with effort as he did. When it was over she gave a shuddering sigh of pleasure. She had almost forgotten the spanking her father had given her. In any case, it was well worth it for the spectacle she had been given to watch. She began to imagine the whipping she would give her dolly when she found herself alone.