During the seventies I lived on a council estate. The houses were semi detached and had been built in the late 1930's. My next door neighbours were a "problem" family. They had 3 boys. When I moved into my house the eldest boy, Victor, was 11. John was 9 and Robert had just turned 6.
Their father was a harsh man. I frequently heard the sounds of crying and pleading from the house next door. I later discovered that their father thrashed his sons with a leather belt across their bare backsides. He occasionally used the buckled end of the belt for this purpose. Even the youngest child had felt the sting of the leather although not as frequently as his elder siblings. They were not bad children, in fact when their father was away they seemed to behave very much like normal children of their age. When he was at home however it seemed as if they were intimidated by his presence.
I confess that, on many occasions, I was aroused by the sound of their father shouting at one or more of his offspring. I listened intently because I knew that normally I would soon be hearing the snap of leather across flesh accompanied by the plaintive pleading and weeping from whichever unfortunate child had incurred his father's displeasure.
One day, almost 2 years after I had moved in, their father left home. Some people said he had been sent to prison (he was a habitual but petty criminal). Others that he had found another woman. Whatever the reason, however, the children seemed to flourish living solely with their mother. They became more like children of their age, they were now 13, 11 and 8, should be. They were lively, noisy, boisterous and occasionally naughty. This is where my story really begins.
One day I noticed that the two eldest boys, Victor and John, were playing in their garden which, naturally, bordered my own. Coincidentally as I glanced from my bedroom window I noticed their ball had bounced over into my garden. Victor, the 13 year old, had looked around him and, seeing no one watching, had hauled himself over the little fence into my garden to retrieve the ball. Unfortunately he had not realised the fence was old and unstable. When he made the return journey back to his own garden the fence buckled under his weight and, although not breaking, leaned worryingly at an angle. I smiled to myself and decided I would ask their mum to get the boys to help me fix the fence. I had become fairly friendly with the family since their father had left.
Unfortunately when I spoke to the boys' mother she started to cry. She said that since their father had left home they were becoming more difficult to control and that she couldn't cope. She realised their father's methods of discipline were cruel but, at least, they had kept the boys in line. Now, she feared they were becoming out of control.
She then, to my astonishment, asked me if I would "teach them a lesson". She said she felt the boys needed a man's firm hand to correct them when they crossed the line. I was shocked but, I have to admit, slightly excited about the opportunity of "correcting" 3 children with their mother's permission. I agreed that she should speak to the children about the damage to the fence and then tell them she was sending them to me for their discipline. My ex wife had been a keen horsewoman and one of her old riding crops was still in my bedroom. I had already decided that would be the instrument I would use.
Later that morning I answered a knock on my door. The boy's mother, Jennifer, was standing there with 13 year old Victor and John,11 who both looked decidedly sheepish. "I'm sorry about the fence" she said. "I think you should teach these two a lesson". The two boys looked at me nervously. I knew they both liked me but I could see they were worried. I think their mother had already told them she had asked me to deal with them severely. I thanked Jennifer and she returned to her own home.
"Come in boys and take off your shoes" I said. They removed their shoes. "Go upstairs to my spare room. It's straight in front of you at the top of the stairs". The spare room had nothing in it apart from a hard backed chair. It was intended for use as the third bedroom but, as I lived alone since my divorce, two bedrooms sufficed for my needs, and the occasional guest who stayed.
I decided to let them wait in the spare room for a few moments to contemplate their fate. Then I went up the stairs into the room and addressed the two children. "You should have asked me to throw back your ball and then the fence would not have been damaged" I said. Two pairs of eyes looked down at the floor and mumbled they were sorry. "Your mum tells me that since your dad left you have been misbehaving more and more" I went on. The boys continued studying their feet. "Your mum has decided that I should punish you" I finally said. Two young boys dressed in the fashionable, casual clothing of the time, t-shirt and shorts which really were short. I confess I was becoming quite excited about the opportunity which was being presented to me.
Finally, after lecturing the boys about the importance of good behaviour I announced. " I am going to whip you both". Both boys looked at me wide eyed. Their neighbour, the man they had helped in his garden, the man whose car they had washed, and for whom they had run errands to the shops was going to WHIP them!! I then went on "This is for your own good. You need to be corrected when you misbehave. Your mother doesn't want you to end up in prison so it is important that bad behaviour is nipped in the bud. Do you understand". Two heads nodded sheepishly. "Wait there" I commanded and I went downstairs to the cupboard under the stairs where I knew the riding crop was kept.
I found the crop and made my way back upstairs with it. When I entered the room with the crop in my hand the two lads looked at each other and began to sniffle. I ordered Victor, the eldest, to place the hard backed chair in the centre of the room. I flexed the crop dramatically and glared at the two lads. "Strip to your underpants" I ordered. Nervously they removed their t-shirts and then their shorts. Victor was wearing tight light blue briefs and John yellow ones. "You are first Victor" I said "Bend over the chair". Victor obeyed, leaning over the back of the chair and grasping the legs low down. I moved behind the 13 year old boy and inserted my hand into the elastic of his briefs and lowered them just far enough so that his bottom was fully exposed. "You are going to get 10. Stay in that position until I finish. If you get up before I tell you you'll get more. Do you understand". Victor sniffled that he understood.
The first stroke elicited a small squeal of pain and after each subsequent stroke a louder yelp emerged from Victor's mouth. After the tenth I observed my handiwork and was pleased with the well whipped rear I saw before me. This boy will think hard before misbehaving again I decided. I told Victor to stand, replace his briefs but not to dress and go and stand, hands on head, in the corner whilst I dealt with his brother. "Over the chair John" I ordered the 11 year old and he obeyed. "You will get 8. The same rules apply to you. Stay in position until I tell you to get up". Again my hand was inserted under the elastic of the boy's briefs and they were lowered to expose the bottom fully. I administered the full 8 strokes firmly, each one causing a wail of pain but, to his credit, John stayed in place as his brother had done. After the punishment was complete I told both boys to face me and lectured them about the importance of good behaviour. Finally I allowed them to dress and return home. Little did any of us know, at that time, that Jennifer, their mother would be asking me many more times to discipline one or more of her sons over the next few months. More of which later.