"With his shorts and pants down?" Joanie said, impressed. She was staring at the thick welts across the boy's buttocks that were fading but still quite visible.
"Yes, he always gets it on the bare," Susan explained.
"Miss Walker, may I get the cane?" Susan asked, her eyes bright.
"Very well, Susan. Bring the heavy one."
"Come along, Joanie, Helen. I'll show you where they're kept." They rushed off.
Maureen Walker paced the room.
"Basil, how many times do I have to tell you to control your temper? You are now almost twelve years old, much too old for such childish temper tantrums. You know that I have to punish you very severely for such an offence, don't you?"
"Yes, ma'am," the boy whispered, his head pressed against the chair seat.
"And I will cane you very hard, Basil. You agree that you deserve to be caned very hard, don't you?"
"Yes, ma'am," came the trembling reply.
"Good. You will remain in position until you are told to stand up. No kicking, no struggling, no trying to cover your buttocks with your hands. Is that understood, boy?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"I wonder what's keeping the girls," Maureen Walker said, although she knew quite well that Susan was now proudly displaying the canes and tawsesand birch rods to her admiring friends.
About ten minutes later they appeared, Joanie holding not only a heavy cane but also the tawse.
"You may want to give Basil a bit with the tawse as well, don't you, Miss?" she said with a malicious smile.
Maureen looked at her, then at the boy. "Maybe you're right," she said. "Let's start him off with a dose of the tawse and then finish it off with the cane." The girls stood along one wall as Joanie handed the thick strap to Maureen Walker who took it and calmly walked up to the boy's protruding bare bottom. The cane was laid down for future use.
"Well, girls," she said, slightly slapping the leather tails against the bare skin, "now you will see how a naughty, temperamental little boy is soundly whipped. Pay attention."
They did, mouth open, as they watched the tawse smack sharply across the boy's already marked backside. Each hard stroke evoked a cry from the boy and a gasp of surprise from the two visitors.
"Wow!" Joanie exclaimed. "That must have hurt!"
"Oh, that's nothing," Susan, the expert, said lightly. "Miss Walker hasn't even begun yet. Isn't that right, Miss Walker?"
The governess raised the tawse high and brought it down full force across the lower buttocks. "That's right," she said as the leather made loud contact. "It's going to hurt this boy considerably more in a little while."
As the beating progressed, the boy became more and more distressed, writhing and shifting about the chair back, but not daring to change his position.
"How do you make him stay in this position?" Helen wanted to know, her eyes on Basil's crimson backside. "Doesn't he want to get up and run away?"
"I'm sure he does," the governess smiled as she brought the strap down with great force. "But he knows that he will be punished even more severely if he does. He tried before and had to pay the consequences, but he has learned by now that it is advisable to obey and stay in position like a good boy. Haven't you, Basil?" Down came the tawse.
"Yes!" the boy yelled. "Yes, ma'am," he quickly corrected himself. His small body was shaking with sobs as the strap lashed him behind again.
"How many has he got?" Helen asked. "How many more will he get?"
"Basil is going to be whipped very severely tonight," Maureen Walker said as she brought the tawse down across the trembling, sore bottom, "and it will not be finished for quite a while yet. I don't count the strokes. I watch the boy's reaction to see how sorry he is about what he has done. I will only stop when I am convinced he is truly contrite and ashamed of his actions." Down came the tawse.
It was a long time before the governess threw the tawse aside. Her arm felt tired and she believed that any further strokes could not be given with adequate force. It was better to finish this little episode.
"His bottom looks really raw," Joanie marveled. "Listen to him bawl."
"Yes, Basil is a little coward," Susan said for the boy's benefit. "He is a little cry-baby who needs to have his bottom smacked by his nanny because he has been very naughty. Isn't that right, Basil?"
"Yes, you're right, Susan," Basil managed to mumble between sobs. He wanted to get up and hit his sister but this wasn't the moment.
There was silence in the room for an extended period except for the boy's snuffles and moans. Eventually, Maureen Walker broke it.
"Well, my boy," Maureen said, laying the tawse aside, "You will now receive 12 of the very best of the heavy cane, and I hope that this will teach you to control yourself in the future."
Maureen looked down on the boy's beet-red buttocks where some spots were turning purple, and raised the cane high. The girls watched with intense interest as the cane slashed into the boy's firm flesh with a loud whack, followed almost instantly by a shriek of pain from the boy. This was repeated eleven more times and the shrieks became bellows. But at last it was over.
"You may rise, Basil, and turn around." After the boy had obeyed, scrambling off the chair he stood, bent, legs trembling, before his audience. His buttocks were throbbing and burning painfully.
"Stand up straight, hands on your head, and look at your sister. You will properly apologise for disrupting the game and behaving like a savage. Tell her how sorry you are and how you want to thank me for having punished you properly."
They all looked at the boy's tear-stained face, twitching eyes, quivering mouth with the pain that still suffused his swollen buttocks.
"I - I'm so sorry, Susan," he stuttered, sweating with shame, "for having - er - disrupted the game and - er - having behaved like a - like a -" he looked anxiously at his governess.
"Like a savage," Maureen Walker prompted.
"Like a savage," the boy repeated quietly. "I am grateful to Miss Walker for having - er - punished me - er - properly."
"Good. Now tell the other girls that you hope I will punish you even more severely if you misbehave again."
The boy turned his contorted face towards the two girls.
"I h-hope Miss Walker will punish me even more severely - er - the next time I - er - misbehave," the boy whispered.
"Now say it again," Maureen Walker said sharply, "but louder and very politely so we can all hear it. As if you meant it, boy."
With great effort, his hands clutching the top of his head, the boy managed to satisfy the demand.
"Very well, girls, the show is over. Back downstairs with you, while I give the boy his bath."
Amidst giggles and whispered comments, the girls left the room and skipped down the stairs. Basil could still hear them laughing as he was led, now stark naked, into the bathroom.
Maureen Walker scrubbed the boy down thoroughly, from head to toe, front and back, with complete disregard to the boy's skinned behind. By the time he was clean and dry, Basil was in tears again.
Maureen Walker marched the boy back into his own room and, with a sound slap on his tender bottom, sent him to bed.
"Better get a good night's rest," she said before turning out the lights, "Tomorrow we will start our lessons early and I hope you have memorised all the chapters I have set you. Good night."
The door closed and the boy was left alone, naked under the thin blanket, thinking about what tomorrow's lessons would be like. He cried himself to sleep.
Nothing out of the ordinary occurred for several weeks. Susan came and went, pretty much as she liked, as long as Maureen Walker knew where she was and was home by ten o'clock every night. Basil was kept to a tight schedule of lessons, physical exercises, homework and the occasional visit from friends. Basil enjoyed such visits as he had little contact with the outside world, but always dreaded being punished in front of them. Somehow the governess never failed to find fault just shortly prior to an expected visit and insisted that the punishment take place regardless of who was present. Furthermore, all his friends were by now wearing jeans or long trousers as it was getting very cold, yet Maureen Walker not only insisted on the boy staying in shorts, she also was inflexible about allowing shorts that were not extremely brief and skin tight. Basil felt too old to be dressed that way and was shy in front of his friends who usually commented on Basil's bare thighs at least during the first few visits. Eventually they took this for granted.
Then, one stormy winter evening, Maureen Walker returned from a visit to the city accompanied by a young man whom she introduced to Basil as Jack Pryor. He was tall, lean, with dark hair and brown eyes.
"Jack, I want you to meet my new charge, Master Basil Gorthon, aged eleven. Not very bright, and an obdurate, willful and usually very naughty little boy," Maureen Walker said, taking hold of the boy's left ear.
"Basil, say hello to Mr. Pryor. He is a friend of mine and you will be as respectful and obedient to him as you should be with me," Maureen Walker instructed the boy, giving his ear a painful twist.
"How do you do, sir," Basil said politely, extending his small hand.
"Pleased to meet you," Jack replied with a tight smile. "Normally I have great distaste for small boys. I'm willing to make an exception with you because of Miss Walker. But you'd better watch your step around me. Miss Walker has told me something about you over the last few months, and none of it very good."
Basil looked at his feet and plucked at his shorts hems.
"Go to your room, Basil," Maureen Walker said, at last releasing the boy's ear which, by now, had turned an angry red, "and show Mr. Pryor your school work."
With a startled look at the young man, Basil quickly ran upstairs to his room.
"A very attractive child, for a boy," Jack said. "With proper discipline, he should grow up to be a well-mannered, good-looking gentleman."
"With emphasis on 'discipline'," Maureen Walker said. "He is very difficult to control. He has temper tantrums, he lies, he daydreams during lessons. A sound whipping keeps him docile for a day or two, but then he's back to his bad manners."
Jack laughed. "I see you have quite a handful here," he said.
"At least his parents have given me carte blanche on how to handle the child, so I don't have to worry whether they will approve of my methods. In any case, they were the ones to recommend strict discipline. The mother especially, she showed me how to handle the various punishment instruments."
"And I bet you use them regularly," Jack smiled.
By then Basil came back, carrying several notebooks. He handed them to his governess.
"Give them to Mr. Pryor. He is a schoolmaster at a private school and can help you correct your lessons," Maureen Walker said.
The boy obeyed with some trepidation and Jack took the notebooks to a nearby chair and sat. He studied what Basil had written.
"Surely this is not your final work, Basil?" he asked, incredulous. "This is scratchy writing, smeared ink and full of spelling mistakes. It is a draft, isn't it? Let's see the final version, boy."
Basil's face turned red. He shuffled his feet, his fingers at the hems of his shorts. "No, sir, this is my only work," he mumbled.
"Incredible," Jack exclaimed. "Maureen, what has the boy learned since you started? I can't believe you are a bad teacher."
"I told you, Basil is a very obstinate little boy. Lessons have to be thoroughly whipped into him, otherwise they don't make an impression on him."
"And well whipped into him they will be," Jack announced. "But first let's go through the rest."
The rest wasn't much better. While Basil stood uncomfortably in front of the young man, Jack slowly reviewed all the boy's work. He shook his head. "Very careless writing," he muttered again and again. "A boy his age should know better. I think he needs a few hours each day learning penmanship and spelling. The ideas he puts down aren't bad, but too disorganised."
"You should have seen his writing a few months ago," Maureen said. "It was atrocious. He has improved considerably since then, but obviously not enough. Let me ask Mary if dinner is ready."
After Maureen Walker left the room, man and boy were left in uneasy silence. Then Jack said casually, "Basil, are you really as stupid as this work implies?"
"Er - no, sir... I don't think so," Basil said.
"Then you do such bad work on purpose?" Jack asked.
"No, sir, of course not. I try my best."
"Then we will have to make sure you try harder so your best gets better, isn't that right?"
"Er - I - I guess so, sir."
"I am glad you agree. You will therefore be punished by me, after dinner, if Miss Walker agrees. I know how to handle naughty little schoolboys who won't learn. I have many of those in my school and they all have learned quickly. They practically wet their shorts when they are called into my study." Jack laughed.
Basil was silent but cramps developed in his stomach.
The boy sat quietly at the dinner table, not eating much. He was too nervous and wondered what this man was going to do to him. Although he had been beaten many times by his father, he had trusted him even when he was howling under the cane. But this man? At least Miss Walker would be present. He hoped she would intercede for him if that became necessary.
Jack and Maureen conversed in low voices, completely disregarding the feelings the boy migh have had. The fact that the boy was shortly to be punished was nothing exceptional or anything to dwell upon. It was just one of the many tasks guardians of boys had to fulfill, whether they liked it or not.
At last, after having savoured a sweet dessert and sipped a bit of cognac, Jack turned to the pale-faced boy.
"I think it is time for you to get ready," he said in a steely voice. "You will go into the study, lower your shorts and underpants to your ankles, and place yourself in the position you normally taken when being flogged. You will wait in such position until we join you."
The boy rose from his chair with a heavy heart and trudged off to his father's study.
"We'll let him wait so he has time to think about what will happen soon," Jack said. "Anticipating a thrashing is always useful in a boy's discipline. His imagination can draw more terrible images than reality ever could. Bending, bare-bottomed, and waiting to be flogged, is the introductory stage of sound punishment procedure."
It was almost an hour later when they decided it was time to join the little culprit in the study. When they entered, they saw the boy obediently in position, bare bottom towards the door. Jack laughed.
"Now there is a picture!" he exclaimed. "A stupid little schoolboy, duly exposed, waiting for his well-deserved thrashing. Well, my boy, your waiting is over. Real pain is soon to follow." He gave another sharp bark of a laugh and strode towards the cupboard.
"Is this where the canes are kept?" he asked Maureen who nodded.
"Yes, you will find everything you need in there. Basil is well acquainted with each one of them."
"Not well enough, would be my guess, to judge by his school work. Now, let's see."
He opened the cupboard doors and peered inside.
"Hm. Nice tawse, this one. I see there are a few birch rods soaking, as well. I'm surprised. I though the birch was no longer used in the home."
"Yes, it seems the Gorthons had some good, old-fashioned, ideas about the education of young boys. I've tried my hand with them and they are quite effective."
"I'm sure they are," Jack laughed, as he selected one of the canes he found hanging inside the doors. "I think, though, for this occasion, I will be lenient and let the boy off with a simple, if extended, caning."
There was a small whimper coming from the seat of the heavy leather chair, and the boy shuffled his feet.
"Yes, my boy," Jack said, "you have something to worry about. That fat little backside of yours is going to have a new experience tonight. I doubt you will be able to sit down comfortably for the next week or two. Maureen, let me know if this is not so, then my caning wasn't effective and I would have to be more severe the next time."
"Knowing you, Jack," Maureen said, "I doubt it. I have seen you cane small boys, remember? They could hardly walk afterwards, much less sit down." There was an amusement in her voice which Basil didn't share. He was already trembling all over, and his bottom, exposed and vulnerable, shivered in anxious expectations of imminent pain.
Jack flexed the cane, standing so the bending boy could see him, and swished it menacingly through the air.
"Yes, this will do quite nicely," he said with satisfaction. "Good weight, nice and pliable. Bound to hurt. You hear, Basil? This will truly hurt you more than it will me. But you are a strong little boy with a strong little backside, so it won't be so bad. I have caned smaller and weaker boys than you, and they all survived the ordeal. So will you, I assure you.." He swished the cane several more times and then positioned himself and took aim.
Eight strokes later he laid the cane on the desk. "You may get up now, boy," he told the sobbing boy. "Stand in the corner, hands at neck rest."
Each one of the eight cuts had been delivered with such force that the boy had screamed in pain throughout. Maureen sat in a nearby chair and watched, but did not comment. She just tried to learn Jack's technique. It seemed that each stroke brought out the most exquisite pain that could be wrung from the cane and the boy felt it, deeply. He squirmed and writhed, turned and twisted, soon sweating profusely through his shirt and little streams running down between his thighs. Jack observed these little telltale details which proved to him the efficacy of the punishment.
Basil rose painfully and staggered to his corner. He wept quietly for a long time while Maureen and Jack discussed the weals on the boy's bottom. They were deep, purple and black, running across both buttocks and upper thighs. Jack had spaced them carefully and one welt was touching the next, all the way from the middle of the buttocks down to the thighs.
"It's a nice cane, this one," Jack commented, pointing to the cane on the desk. "I have an even better one at the school, but this will do nicely. I think even the boy will agree that it is quite effective, am I right, Basil?"
"Y-yes, sir," mumbled the trembling boy in the corner.
Jack grinned. "I should say so."
After about 20 minutes of light chatter, he stood.
"Basil, come here. It's time for the second 8 strokes."
Basil looked extremely startled. "But, sir, isn't it over?" he asked pathetically.
"Over?" Jack laughed. "Oh, my dear boy, no, it's not 'over' as you put it."
"Oh, but, sir -"
"Come here this instant, child," Maureen said sternly. "You don't want to make Mr. Pryor angry, do you?"
With his hands still behind his neck, the shivering boy reluctantly approached the young man, looking absurd with the shorts and underpants impeding his steps.
"Over the chair, my boy," Jack said pleasantly, "and we will start the second phase. Right, over you go! Legs nice and wide."
When Basil had resumed his position, he was crying again. There was still so much pain in his buttocks, the simple thought of another onslaught of strokes made him feel faint.
Taking his time, Jack walked over to the desk, picked up the cane and placed himself behind the boy who was now moaning miserably. "Right. Eight strokes, hard ones this time."
There was a lot of noise in the study during the next five minutes. There was the swish of the cane, its impact on the child's flesh and, loudest of all, the boy's reaction to each. Not only did he roar with pain when the cane struck, but he now kept up long monologues begging his punisher to stop. Even when he realised that his pleas went unanswered, he still insisted on trying to get off a few strokes. But Jack and the cane were implacable. The 8 strokes were duly administered with the full force of the young man's strong right arm. Jack had found it necessary to remove his jacket and roll up his shirt sleeves as he warmed to his task.
When it was over, Basil was sent back to his corner to reflect and weep.
"I think young Basil is going to study much harder from now on, don't you think, Maureen?"
"I'm sure he will. He knows that I will ask you to come back and deal with him if he doesn't, and I am certain he won't want a repetition of this event tonight."
"Well, Basil," Jack called over to the far corner, "are you going to study harder, concentrate more and behave better from now on?"
"Oh, yes, sir." The boy was vehement.
"Do you want Miss Walker to call me over again to deal with you properly?"
"No, sir!" Even more vehemently.
Jack laughed. "Well for your own sake and that of your bottom, I hope you will remember what you just said. Now come back here."
Once more Basil trudged the length of the room and stood before them. His bottom was starting to swell up nicely.
"Over the chair, my boy, Here come the third 8 strokes."
Maureen and Jack laughed when they saw the boy's expression. Basil couldn't believe his ears. "No, no," he muttered. "I can't, I can't..."
"Disobedience is punished with additional 8 strokes, my boy," Jack said menacingly. "Over the chair, boy, at once!"
Basil looked beseechingly at his governess but received no sympathy. With a little croak, the boy decided to obey the order and bent over the back of the heavy arm chair. The seat cushion was still warm from where his face had rested not so long ago. It also smelled of his own sweat.
Despite the boy's conviction that he couldn't take the additional 8 strokes, he found that he could. It was painful beyond imagination, and he screamed out his pain most lustily, but he took them because he had no choice. The cane laced into the swelling flesh with the greatest of force from beginning to end, without regard to the boy's protests.
"Well, my boy," Jack said after putting down the cane again, "this is your two dozen. It's the minimum I give my boys at school for work as bad as yours. They never repeat that mistake with me. One good flogging and they usually learn their lesson well. I hope you will, too. Promise?"
Basil stood in the middle of the room, hands behind his neck, wet with sweat and still trembling with the effort of the beating, and nodded his head vigourously. "I promise, sir," he said most earnestly.
"And make sure he keeps that promise," Jack said to Maureen Walker. She looked down at the pitiful sight of the whipped boy and smiled.
"I'm sure he will," she said. "I think you have made quite an impression."
Basil was sent off to bed and Maureen and Jack spent the rest of the night together.