The Casey twins lived in our rural settlement. Their mother was also widowed - her husband had been killed in the war. Mrs Casey managed on the soldier's pension.
Patrick and Sean Casey were the same age as myself. The two boys could not have been more different: Patrick played rugby and excelled at sport whereas Sean could usually be found with his nose buried in a book. He was a slightly built fair-haired lad unlike Patrick who, at 13, was big for his age.
Readers of this chronicle have already met my big brother Matt. He was eight years my senior and worked in a quarry. His wages kept a roof over our heads and food on the table. My mother was not entitled to a soldier's pension. Dad had survived the war only to die unexpectedly not long after returning home. She took what work was available but it was Matt who provided the main family income. I shared a bedroom with my big brother. He did his best to be a father to me and was mature beyond his years.
One parental responsibility Matt took with unseemly enthusiasm was keeping me in order with hidings. These were not timid affairs. Instead, with my pants around my ankles, I submitted my ever-growing bare bottom for big brother to seriously hurt with a leather razor strop and, latterly, a thick, whippy rattan cane. This implement was greatly feared. It was designed to wound tender boy-flesh. Still, I accepted a hiding as just and was never punished without good reason.
One day Sean sat beside me on the school bus as it made its way along the backroads, depositing children near farm houses or small settlements. Sean usually kept to himself so I was surprised he had decided to share the seat and even more surprised when he started up a conversation.
"Your brother Matt, he works at Stevenson's Quarry?"
I nodded agreement.
"Does he ever give you a hiding", Sean asked?
As it happened, my backside was still throbbing painfully from a caning Sean had inflicted last night. Six powerful strokes for not doing my chores. I answered with considerable feeling while wondering at the same time why he was interested?
"Nobody can hurt like our Matt", I boasted. "I always get it on the bare bum. Stings like hell". Sean looked at me open-mouthed. "He only does it because he loves me" I finished, unconvincingly - having by then worked out that punishing my naked bottom was a _s_e_x_ual turn-on for my big brother. "Anyway, what's it to you?"
"Nothing. Just wondered, that's all" Sean replied, ending the conversation by returning to his book.
George the driver stopped at the junction and I walked the half mile home. Mum gave me something to eat and then I did my chores. My still tingling backside reminded me of the consequences if I forgot again. Then I started my homework.
I heard Matt's step on the porch and took him out a basin of warm water. He sluiced the lime off his bronzed, muscular arms and then changed out of his work clothes. All the time telling me about his day and asking about school. There was a great bond between us. I loved him.
Mum served up dinner and my sister said grace. There was a silence because we were busy enjoying the delicious country food: rabbit pie with new potatoes and fresh peas which I had picked and shelled. Then Mum said: "I ran into Mrs Casey today. She said the twins are a real handful for her now they are bigger. Mrs Casey had some nice words to say about our boy here which I won't repeat in case they go to his head". I grinned and Mum continued: "I told Mrs Casey that Matt keeps him in line when he needs it. All boys need a man's firm hand. Mrs Casey agreed and then asked if Matt would be able to to help her with Patrick and Sean?"
There was a silence. Then Matt asked: "You mean, give them hidings?" Mum nodded and my big brother thought it over. "Well, it's different with the boy because he's family but I hardly know the twins. I suppose it is difficult for Mrs Casey. The boys would have to come here while you and Sis work at the store". Every evening the female members of our small family relieved the shop owners for an hour, allowing them to have their evening meal in peace. Mum was pleased Matt had agreed to help out and promised to tell Mrs Casey at church on Sunday.
The weeks went by until one evening when just Matt and I were at home, there was a knock on the door. My big brother carefully put down a piece of the Spitfire model he was helping me assemble and went to the door. Sean Casey stood there, looking pale. He handed Matt a note from his mother which big brother read out loud. The boy had taken money from his mother's purse to buy cigarettes. It seemed such an unlikely crime for Sean, the quiet studious twin, to commit - if it had been the boisterous Patrick I could have understood that. Matt questioned the trembling boy standing in front of him but he stuck to his story: he had taken money and used it to buy cigarettes after telling the shopkeeper they were for his mother. Mrs Casey was a smoker.
Matt told me to take Sean into the front room. This was a lounge with a chesterfield suite. It was only used when we had visitors and was dark and somewhat foreboding in the autumn twilight. Big brother came in carrying the cane which he used with such devastating effect on my own backside. Sean looked even paler. I started to leave the room but Matt asked me to stay and be a witness to the punishment.
My big brother instructed Sean to position himself over the end of the chesterfield suite, The boy slowly pulled down his shorts and jockeys. I think Matt had meant to cane Sean clothed but the boy stripped anyway. His shorts at his ankles he bent over the chesterfield. Matt gently pushed the shirt-tail clear revealing a magnificent boy's bottom: two fuzzy peaches, ripe and ready.
Matt raised the stick and slashed it across those golden globes. A thick red welt sprang up and Sean moved a little. He did not utter a sound. Again and again the stick ripped into the tender flesh until there were six vivid purplish-red stripes. I was impressed Sean took the savage beating without crying out. I knew well how each brutal stroke must have hurt him. It WAS exciting. My own boy-_c_o_c_k_ was erect. There was a huge tent-pole in the front of big brother's trousers. I knew our bed springs would be squeaking that night while we both sought release. Poor Sean would be sleeping on his tummy.
Matt told the beaten boy his hiding was over. Slowly, Sean pulled his jockeys and shorts back up. He half turned and I saw his shrivelled _c_o_c_k_ and tiny boy-balls. He quickly covered himself. His face was streaked with tears which he wiped with a none too clean handkerchief. Sean shook Matt's hand and then made his way home.
It turned out, of course, that Sean was protecting his twin and had taken his punishment. Anyway, before too long it was Patrick who had to bend over our chesterfield, displaying his beefy bare buttocks. He jumped up after each stroke and bawled his eyes out. That was even more exciting to witness than Sean's stoical acceptance had been.
Between them the Casey twins kept Matt busy for the next few years. He still attended to my own backside as well but those were much more intimate affairs ....