Basil was kept hard at work until late in the afternoon. When Susan returned from school, he was still in his room, sitting bare-bottomed on the bench, bent over his desk, trying to spell the words Maureen Walker had set him. "Decision, attrition, expression, occasion, proposition, transmission, transition, recession, completion, secession, condescension" were among the words she had dictated. He was struggling with each word, sweating, clamping his bare thighs open and shut in his anxiety, when Susan stormed into the room.
"Oh, Miss Walker," she exclaimed, "what a wonderful time we've had!"
"Hello, Susan," Maureen Walker replied calmly, smiling at the girl's pink, excited face. "You were at Betty's party after school?"
"Yes! We had cake, music, dancing, even a magician! It was fantastic!" And then her eyes focused on her brother by the desk.
"Hello, what is little brother doing there? Has he lost his little shorts?" She laughed. "Now I know why he needs a nanny. So he doesn't lose his knickers!"
Basil, still holding his pen, felt his face in flames. He started to stand up, his hands curled into fists. At the last moment he managed to control himself and sat back down again. He was seething with frustrated fury and almost broke into tears.
"Basil, stand up, face your sister and apologize to her for the rude language you used earlier today," Maureen Walker ordered crisply.
The boy looked beseechingly at his new governess. "B-but, Ma'am, I -"
"Now, Basil, or you will feel the tawse," Maureen Walker snapped.
The boy stood, grindingly aware that he was naked from the waist down. He stood, one hand covering himself, the other plucking at the shirt tail.
"I - I'm sorry, Susan," he mumbled.
"No, Basil, that won't do at all," Maureen Walker admonished him. "Now do it properly if you want to save your backside."
The boy's face turned a few shades darker as he tried again. "Susan, I - I'm really very sorry to have used bad language to you and been rude. I didn't mean it. I won't do it again."
"That's better," the governess approved. "Now tell your sister that the next time you use such rude words towards her, she should come directly to me so I can whip your bare bottom."
"Oh, please, Ma'am," the red-faced boy stammered.
"Say it!"
"I - er - Susan, if I ever say these things.. to you... again... you may tell Ms. Walker... so she can - er - whip my - er - bottom..."
"Say it again, boy, properly. And stop that stammer."
Basil took a deep breath and tried again. "Susan, if I use bad language again, please tell Ms. Walker so she can whip - my - bottom," came the trembling voice.
"Again, Basil. This time don't forget 'bare' bottom."
This time the boy got it right and Maureen Walker was satisfied. Susan stood looking down on her young brother with a smirk on her face. She was enjoying the boy's humiliation.
"Nanny will smack the little boy's bottom?" She giggled.
"All right, Susan, no more of that. Go down and have your supper. I suppose you have homework to do. So you'd better get busy instead of teasing your brother who still has to finish his spelling lesson."
After Susan had left in a swirl of her skirt, Basil was back at his desk trying to finish his task. It wasn't long and Susan, in her own room, could hear her brother crying, softly at first, but gradually getting louder and louder until he was fairly howling. Each misspelt word was being corrected, letter by letter, by the tawse across the boy's bottom.
About half-hour later, governess and charge joined Susan at the dinner table. The boy's face was sweaty and blotchy, his eyes red with swollen lids, feeling as if he were sitting on hot coals under his bare bottom. Susan smiled and kept up a constant chatter, while Basil slowly chewed his food in silence. He wasn't very hungry and all he could think about was his freshly-whipped backside.
"Eat up, Basil," Maureen Walker said. "Then go upstairs and get ready for your bath. I will be up presently and expect to see you standing by the tub."
Susan giggled but didn't say anything. She just looked at her brother whose face once more turned a deep pink.
The rest of the week passed quickly, each day filled with lessons, followed by punishment if the boy had not performed up to standard. Eve and Herman Gorthon were gone most of the time, but when Eve was present, she watched the new governess as she handled her charge. She seemed to approve and felt more at ease with leaving the boy in her care while she and Herman Gorthon were away. Of course Maureen Walker would make sure Susan went to school, did her homework and ate properly but the girl did not require the kind of supervision the boy obviously needed. Mary would see to the meals and the cleaning and would also keep Maureen Walker informed about the girl's whereabouts.
One afternoon, as Basil was being punished for cursing under his breath during lessons, Eve Gorthon entered the boy's room. She had ignored the boy's loud screams for a while but as they grew ever shriller, she went upstairs to see the cause of the commotion.
"Why is Basil making so much noise, Miss Walker?" she inquired after having observed him lying bare-bottomed over the edge of his bed. Why can't you control the boy's behaviour?"
"He won't lie still and I have to keep adding strokes. He has been stubborn all morning. He will not study properly and of course never remembers anything the next day. He lacks concentration." She whacked the tawse down sharply across an already very red and sore-looking pair of buttocks. Basil yelped and squirmed about.
"Maybe it's time to introduce you to the birch rod, Miss Walker," Eve Gorthon said, eyeing her son's streaked bottom. "It might be a good idea to teach you how to use it before we leave. You never know when you might be forced to use it on the boy."
"Very well, Mrs. Gorthon," Maureen Walker said. "Basil, stay as you are until we are back," she said to the boy still twisting in pain.
Eve Gorthon led Maureen Walker to the study and opened the cupboard. She removed one of the several bundles of twigs, shook off the extra water clinging to the buds at the tips of the branches and handed it to the governess.
"Each rod consists of seven long, green, pliant twigs, with thick, hard buds around the business ends. I'm not sure they are really birch twigs, they might be ash, or apple trees, but regardless of origin, they can sting very nicely. You just have to keep in mind that they can scratch the skin and you will therefore not be able to avoid a certain amount of cutting the skin with a little blood along the welts. You needn't worry about that. They are superficial and will never harm a boy. If you handle the birch properly and you give him the usual amount of not less that four dozen strokes, you will have blood. After such an application, the best thing is to wipe the boy's bottom with a strong disinfectant. This will wash away the little blood there might be and prevent any kind of infection. You may also check to see if any bits of twig remain in the flesh and remove those with tweezers."
"I understand, Ma'am," Maureen Walker said, her gaze on the rod in her hand.
They went back to the boy's room where Basil was still lying obediently bent over the edge of his bed.
"Basil," the boy's mother said looking down on the boy, "Miss Walker tells me you are being obstreperous (Miss Walker, you may want the boy to spell this word after we are finished) and I have decided that a dose of the birch is just the thing you need."
The boy mumbled and whined but neither woman paid any attention.
"Spread your knees wide, boy," his mother ordered. "More. Still more. Good. Stay like that throughout the punishment or you will get more."
"Now watch," Eve Gorthon said, taking the rod from the governess. "First you can stand on the left side of the boy, a bit behind, and measure the distance." She demonstrated as she took her position.
"From this stance, the birch will fall thus." She raised her arm high and, turning her shoulder, brought the rod swishing down across the near buttock with great force. The twigs swept across both buttocks and the tips, thick with buds, smacked around the flank.
Young Basil screeched with pain and turned slightly, grasping his side. "Now, Basil, behave yourself," his mother said tersely. "Do you want me to call Mary to hold you down?"
"Er - n-no, Mum," the boy wailed, "but that hurt!"
"Good, it's supposed to hurt. To teach you to remain still while undergoing discipline and, of course, to concentrate on your lessons so you don;t forget them the next day."
"Now, Miss Walker, if you stand a bit further away, and strike the rod in this fashion -" she did as she explained, "you will note that the twigs bend around the boy's left buttocks and curl inside the cleft. The buds can now have a good effect on the inside where it is more sensitive." The rod swished through the air and struck, landing exactly as Eve Gorthon had predicted. To judge by the boy's howl of agony, it was a really very effective stroke.
Disregarding the boy's antics, Eve Gorthon once more changed position by positioning herself on the opposite side of the bed by the boy's head.
"Just as I showed you with the tawse, you can have a similar effect with the birch." She raised the rod and brought it down sharply vertically between the boy's buttocks, the twigs biting into the cleft, across the anus and between the boy's wide-stretched legs. The tips just missed the small genitals.
"Here, take the rod. Give him a few from each position and see how it feels."
Maureen Walker took the bundle of twigs. It was heavier that she had thought and the handle, where the twigs had been bound together with a red ribbon, was hefty enough to afford a good grip. Handling it like a tennis racquet, Maureen Walker then positioned herself a bit behind and to the left of the boy who she saw was visibly trembling. Obviously he had had the birch before and knew what it could do. He was afraid.
The birch was raised, held high up in the air for a moment while Maureen Walker took careful aim, and then swung down with good force. The twigs gave off a whistling sound and landed with a loud smack across the boy's naked buttocks. As before, the soft right flank took the impact of the tough buds but the deep red ridges could be seen crossing the lower parts of both cheeks, Basil felt the impact as from hundreds if bee stings and he howled.
"I like your forehand, Miss Walker," Eve Gorthon said with a little smile. "Now try position number two."
This time it was the left cheek and the cleft that shook when the rod whipped it to the accompaniment of Basil's moans and groans. The third stroke was administered from the third position and landed squarely between the boy's bottom cheeks. To judge by the boy's scream, Maureen Walker assumed that the tips had this time actually scratched the boy's genitals.
"Give him another one right there," Eve Gorthon said quickly. "It seems to have a good effect right where you landed the previous stroke."
With the accuracy of a professional tennis player, the rod whipped around once more and elicited an excellent reaction from the culprit.
"Good. Give him a dozen from each position. I have to go downstairs. Call me when you have finished and I will check the results. If he struggles, call Mary to help you keep him in position."
When they were alone again, Basil started up a string of reasons why he was too sore to take any more punishment. This was changed to loud bellows of pain as the birch landed with extra vigour across his upper thighs, curling around the soft inner parts. The first dozen was applied to the left side, the second to the right and the last dozen down the center. Buttocks, inside the cleft and all around the upper thighs were now a mass of inflamed, angry welts and the entire area resembled flesh afflicted with a particularly virulent rash.
While the boy lay moaning, his face buried in the bed sheets, Maureen summoned his mother.
"Ma'am," she announced when Eve Gorthon entered the room, "I have followed your instructions. The three dozen have been given and he seems to be a very sorry little boy."
Eve Gorthon approached the crying child and inspected the punished portions.
"Yes, you seem to have gotten the hang of it quite well. I suggest you give him another few strokes from each side, say six each. Here, I brought you a towel and the antiseptic. Wash him properly when you have finished." And she left again.
"Oh, please, ma'am," Basil was whimpering, "please don't give me anymore. I'll try harder, really I will. Please!"
But he got the additional 18 strokes anyway, despite the howls and screams. Then Maureen Walker put down the rod, soaked the towel in the antiseptic and proceeded to rinse the boy's buttocks and thighs thoroughly.
"This may sting," she said before starting, but had not expected a reaction as drastic as the one the boy now displayed as the antiseptic scalded his inflamed skin.
"You may get up," Maureen told the howling boy, "and stand by the desk, hands on your head, until the antiseptic has done its work. Then we will continue with your lessons."
The boy was kept at his work during the week and his parents were not about much. They were in and out of the house, shopping and packing, having a small meal or changing clothes and then they left again. Susan spent most of her time in school or visiting friends. It all had become routine, the meals, the lessons, the whippings, and none seemed remarkable.
Friday arrived and the Gorthons bid their children goodbye.
"Be good now, children," Eve Gorthon said as they stood, suitcases ready, by the door. The car was waiting outside. "Basil, you behave yourself and don't give Miss Walker any more work than necessary. You, Susan, will come home from school punctually unless you advise Miss Walker ahead of time that you are with one of your friends. I don't want to hear any complaints from Miss Walker about either one of you, understand? If we have to be called back, you both will be very sorry."
Father and mother embraced each of the children, shook hands with Maureen Walker and waved at Mary who was helping with the luggage. And then they were gone.
"Well, here we are," Maureen Walker said when the door had closed. "Susan, you better get ready for school. We are running late as it is. Basil, go and get dressed. Breakfast will be ready in twenty minutes."
Susan reappeared at the breakfast table wearing a light blue dress, long stockings and white shoes. "I am going to a party tonight," she announced. "How do you like my new dress? Mum bought it for me just a couple of days ago."
"Looks splendid, I must say," smiled Maureen Walker. "Where is the party?"
"At Ginny Mandel's home. We'll be over twenty."
"Good, but you will be home before ten. Not a minute later."
"Very well, Miss. I'm going directly from school with Joanie and Helen. They are my best friends."
"Fine, now come and eat."
When Basil finally made his appearance, he looked uncomfortable in his tight gray shorts, walking painfully towards his hard chair which he looked at as if it were an instrument of torture. He wore a long-sleeved blue shirt and white ankle socks. He shuffled towards the chair and slowly lowered himself in the usual fashion, hands first.
"Poor little bottom still sore?" Susan inquired with a grin. "Nanny spank?"
"Now, Susan, stop that," Maureen Walker said, handing out some scrambled eggs to both children. "Let's have a friendly breakfast."
"Ow!" Susan yelped suddenly. "Basil just kicked me!"
"I did not!" Basil shouted, his face getting red.
"Basil, I won't have you kicking your sister," Maureen Walker said sharply. "Finish your breakfast. I will talk to you later."
"But, ma'am," Basil sputtered, growing still redder, " I didn't kick her!"
"Yes, you did," his sister replied angrily. "I know, because it still hurts. Here, see for yourself."
She held out her leg but because of her long stockings, nothing could be seen.
"Well, anyway, it hurts," she muttered, rubbing her shin.
"Basil, I think I will wait with your punishment until tomorrow so that Susan will have a chance to witness it. I think this is the least she deserves for your gross misbehaviour."
"But, ma'am - -"
"Be quiet and finish your food. It's almost time for lessons."
(to be continued)