It was nearing winter and the days were getting shorter. A few months ago, Maureen Walker had initiated a physical training program for Basil so that the boy could have some relief from his lessons. And on this Saturday afternoon, with the sky overcast and a chilly wind blowing, Basil was running furiously around the small lake not far from the house. Maureen Walker and Jack Pryor, warmly attired, ambled leisurely around, holding hands, talking softly but always keeping the running boy in sight, making sure he didn't slow down. Despite the cold wind and being attired only in white singlet and white cotton shorts that hugged his form and didn't quite cover his small bottom, Basil was sweating and panting. How much longer before he was given permission to rest? By now he had made three rounds and he was getting out of breath.
Maureen Walker watched as they passed the gasping boy once again. It was good to see a healthy boy getting his exercise; the more the better. Can't do him any harm to get a little out of breath, she thought. Exchanging his energies from naughtiness to P. T. is good for boys of any age.
As Basil ran, he gave a pleading glance at his governess and Jack, hoping they would let him rest now. When his plea was ignored, he ran on, huffing and puffing, his pace slowing noticeably. After another twenty minutes or so, almost unable to keep running even at the slower pace, they finally told him to get back to the house.
"You will go directly into my study, boy," Miss Walker said sternly. "You will not change clothes and you will not go to the bathroom. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Miss," Basil panted and returned gratefully to the house.
"He's a bit out of shape, don't you think?" Jack said after the boy had disappeared, a white-clad figure with bare limbs trudging through the darkening evening.
"I noticed," Maureen Walker agreed. "I guess I have been attending only to his backside, neglecting the rest of his body." Both laughed. "From now on, I think he better do some regular running, say an hour in the morning and an hour in the afternoon."
"That's a start," Jack said. "If you like, I can come over a few times a week and have him do calisthenics in the fresh outdoors. He needs sun and wind, soon he'll also have snow and ice, to keep him healthy."
"Good idea, Jack." With that they turned and also walked back towards the house.
After they had taken off their coats, hats, scarves and gloves, they joined the shivering boy in the study. Basil was standing in the middle of the room, waiting. His singlet was sweat-soaked and the shorts clung to him.
"Basil," Jack Pryor addressed the boy while Miss Walker sat behind the desk, "Miss Walker and I feel that you did poorly in today's run. You slowed down without permission, and we didn't see the enthusiasm that we expect from a boy when being allowed to run freely in the open air. You didn't really try, did you, boy?"
Basil gave him a defiant stare. "I did try, sir," he said. "I tried for as long as I could."
"Well, that's a matter of opinion. In any case, we feel you didn't try hard enough. Bend over the chair."
"But, sir -"
SMACK! SMACK! Two resounding slaps across the boy's face. "I want no arguments from you, you litle scamp," Jack snapped. "Over the chair!"
His face red, tears gathering in his eyes, the young lad finally decided to obey and bent over the back of the heavy chair. Jack Pryor and Maureen Walker silently gazed for a moment at the tight little shorts that had now run up so high that they displayed a good portion of bare buttock under the hems. Livid weals, bluish-purple, fading a bit but still quite sore looking, could be seen spread across the bare portions. Then Jack walked to the cupboard to retrieve one of the canes that were kept there, while Miss Walker stepped up to the bending boy, took a hold of the waistband of the boy's shorts, and pulled them up further. Now almost half of the boy's bare buttocks were on display.
Jack, cane in hand, took up his position and tapped the bare portions of the boy's bottom.
"How many, do you think, Maureen?" he asked, the cane tap-tap-tapping the bare flesh.
"Make it a round dozen," Miss Walker replied, her eyes on the weals still quite prominent on the boy's flesh.
"Good," Jack agreed, "and then followed by a dozen with the tawse. Next time it'll be the birch, my boy."
With that he slashed the cane across the lower, bare parts of the boy's bottom. Basil's head shot up, a high-pitched squeal came from his mouth, and a small hand crept towards the blazing line of fire.
The cane landed on his knuckles and Basil, with a loud cry, quickly withdrew his hand. "That one doesn't count," Miss Walker said. "You will not move while you are being punished, Basil. I would have thought you have learned tis by now. "Jack, better make it 18 with the cane. The boy doesn't seem to understand any other language."
"And 18 with the tawse," Jack chuckled, bringing the cane down as hard as he could. A loud cry from the bending boy and another thick weal slowly made its appearance on the naked flesh.
It was hard work, but Jack got through the 18 cuts without diminishing the force of each. The room resounded with the boy's wails and screams but they did nothing to alleviate his pain.
"You may rest for 30 minutes," Jack said, replacing the cane. "Into the corner with you, you little rascal. "We'll deal with your second installment later."
Basil stood in the corner and wept bitter tears. His bottom was a blazing furnace, each new stripe throbbing painfully. The shorts were still hitched high, the middle seam cutting into the cleft and he longed to rub his smarting bottom but dared not. Somehow they would know, he felt, and would punish him for it.
Half-an-hour later they returned, Miss Walker holding the fearsome tawse, heavy and thick, three vicious-looking tails swinging meancingly against her leg.
"Over the chair, boy," she commanded sternly, "but take down your shorts first."
Basil slowly turned and approached the two adults. Standing before the chair, he pulled down his shorts and stepped out of them. His bottom was now fully bared since the singlet didn't reach below his waistline. The white upper parts of his bottom contrasted starkly with the deepe red and bruised lower parts as well as with the tanned skin of his back and thighs.
"I will now give you the 18 with this excellent tawse," Miss Walker said, standing behind and a bit to the side of the boy who was now bent over the chair-back once more. "You will not move, nor make unnecessary noise or I will add to the strokes. When you feel the impact of the leather, think of how you could have prevented this by simply obeying orders, in this case running at the required speed for the required period of time. Next time you will do better, won't you?"
"Oh, yes, Miss. Yes. Please don't beat me anymore. I'm so sore, it hurts so bad. Please!"
The tawse landed with a tremendous slap across the wealed portions of the boy's lower buttocks and young Basil roared with the red-hot pain that flooded the entire area. There was a lengthy pause and then another hard strokes across the same spot. The boy roared lustily, especially when those tails landed around the inner thighs, which they seemed to do quite frequently.
Slowly, methodically, the 18 strokes were applied to those long-suffering lower portions of the buttocks and upper thighs. Everything was sore and tender, the cane stripes turning dark under the ever-increasing redness caused by the leather tails.
Then it was back into the corner for an hour. By then it was bedtime and Basil finally received his bath and was sent to bed. He slept on his stomach., That is, he tried to sleep, but the throbbing in his behind kept waking him up again and again. The throbbing in his buttocks and thighs gradually receded bu by then it was time to get up. A new day had begun.
It was Sunday, time for Church. After his bath, Basil was instructed to don his dark-blue suit with the white shirt and blue tie, then come downstairs for breakfast. When he appeared in the kitchen, he saw Jack was still there, and he flinched instinctively.
"Well, come on over," Jack said with a big grin. "Let's have a look at you."
Basil carefully came closer and stood before Jack. The man straightened the boy's tie, tugged at the short jacket and slapped the boy's bare thighs. "I hope you braced them up tight," he said. "I don't like to see sloppy dress on a boy your age goingto Church. Turn around." Jack had insisted some time ago that the belt should be replaced by braces for the Sunday services. "Boys look smarter with their shorts braced high and tight," he had said.
Basil turned and Jack studied the tight seat. The hems of the shorts pinched the lower bottom cheeks so that a bit of bruised flesh bulged out underneath. Jack's fingers slipped inside.
"Take them down," Jack said after his inspection. For a moment Basil stood uncomprehendingly, then he shrugged and obeyed. He took off his jacket, slipped the braces from his shoulders and pushed the shorts down. Then he stood in his white underpants.
"Take your pants off," Jack said and Basil stepped out of his shorts and underpants. Once more he stood before this man, naked from the waist down. "Now pull up your shorts." He turned to Miss Walker. "I think underwear is quite unnecessary for small boys his age," he announced. "I recommend that he do without it from now on."
"But winter is coming," Miss Walker said with a little smile. "Won't the boy be a bit cold around the middle?"
"Well, if he is, he is always welcome to tell us and we can warm him up as much he would like, eh, boy?"
Basil didn't reply but just pulled his shorts back up over his bare skin.
"Not so quick, boy," Jack said. "No use your trying to hide your bottom again. First we'll have to attend to that naughty little bottom again. Loose braces is an act of disobedience and merits a good tawsing. Take them off this instant! Mareen, would you please take the boy to his room and administer a sound thrashing before we leave?"
Maureen Walker got up, took the boy by an ear and roughly dragged him, now once more with a bare bottom, from the kitchen, up the stairs to his room.
"Kneel on the edge of the bed, then bend over the edge, hands on the floor. Now spread your knees as wide as possible. More. Still more. And get that head down. Good."
Miss Walker whipped the boy severely and he began to cry and whimper again. After about a dozen sharp lashes, Miss Walker stopped.
"Now listen carefully, my boy," she said, putting the tawse on the bed. "Last Sunday you were very naughty at Church and I'm sure you remember how we had to punish you for it. This time you will behave properly, do you hear? You will sit quietly throughout the sermon, no matter how long it takes. I don't want you shifting about all the time. When we get home, I will administer the second half of your punishment and the number of strokes will depend entirely on your behaviour during the service. I hope I have made myself quite clear?"
"Y-yes, Miss," Basil whispered through his sobs.
"Very well, then come along and let's get our breakfast. We don't want to be late."
"And now let's tighten the braces properly," Jack said when the boy returned to the kitchen. "I want them pulled to the last hole. If I or Miss Walker ever catch you with looser braces, you'll be whipped. Understood?"
Basil winced and squirmed as he felt his shorts being pulled ever tighter, irritating his tender, boiling-hot behind. Breakfast was finished quickly, Basil wasn't very hungry just now. His mind was on something else. Perhaps on his bottom, Church service, the tawse....
Basil had a very difficult time on that hard seat in church, but tried to keep still. He didn't need another beating when he got home. Once or twice, during the singing of hymns, Miss Walker slapped his bare thigh very hard for not sitting still. The loud smacking sound was drowned out by the singers, but the slap hurt and Basil rubbed his thigh where a clear red imprint of Miss Walker's palm could clearly be seen.
The sermon seemed unending and unfortunately the topic was juvenile delinquency and discipline. "Spare the rod and spoil the child" seemed to be a phrase that kept coming up and somehow Basil felt it was all directed at him. His bottom was so sore and still tingled so badly as he sat on the hard wooden bench that he thought everyone around him knew how he felt.
"Will you sit still?" Miss Walker whispered fiercely again and again, although Basil had not realised that he had moved at all. "You will pay dearly for this behaviour when we get home," she said.
The boy sat, tears streaming down his face, trying to keep stock-still for the rest of the service. If people had been watching him, they might have thought that the sermon had affected this young boy surprisingly deeply and maybe congratulated the preacher for his effect on such young boys.
Needless to say, Basil was trembling from head to foot when they returned home. Not much had been said during the trip except for some small talk between Maureen and Jack. But Basil was cold, not only because he wore nothing under his thin little shorts or the sharp wind that blew around them, but mostly because he dreaded what awaited him at home.
After the adults had taken off their winter coats, Basil was directed to take off his suit and get back into his regular shirt and shorts, this time however, without underwear, and wait for them.
Back in his old clothes, he stood forlornly in his room, his bottom still throbbing inside the tight shorts. He knew that it would soon be throbbing even more painfully.
It was almost a full hour before Jack and Maureen returned. Jack held a vicious-looking cane and Maureen briskly walked to the boy's bed and retrieved the thick tawse.
"Jack, what are we going to do with this naughty little boy?" she said rethorically. "He just will not obey. Did you notice him fidgeting about all through the service? After I had warned him that the second part of his punishment in the morning would depend on his behaviour at Church?"
Jack laughed. "I heard a few smacks on a boy's bare thigh," he said. "But I didn't keep an eye on the boy. I'm glad you did. Of course you sat next to him and would know better. I suggest that from now on young Basil gets two dozen with the tawse every Sunday, one dozen before service and another afterwards. If he doesn't behave while in Church, the dozen after the service will be increased accordingly, depending entirely on the boy's actions. Do you agree?"
"Certainly, but now to the present. He was to get a dozen. Now he'll have to get two."
Jack nodded. "That seems fair to me." To Basil he added, "Take off your shorts and get back into the position you were in for the first part of your punishment this morning."
Basil obeyed and knelt once more at the edge of the bed, hands on the floor, knees spread wide, gaping buttocks in the air. Mauren swung the tawse. There was a lot of noise in the room for the next ten minutes. The slap and crack of the tawse, like pistol shots, were followed quickly by the ear-piercing cries of pain emanating from a a boy's mouth near the floor.
"Try to aim between the buttocks," Jack suggested. "You should also swing some underhands, upwards between the thighs. This can be very effective." The screams that followed when the suggestion was acted upon, confirmed Jack's statement.
When the two dozen had finally been properly applied, Basil scrambled back onto the bed and crouched there, sobbing. He looked quite pathetic, bare from the waist down, his backside in flames full of welts, ridges, grooves and bruises.
"Let me get my cane," Jack sid. "I don't believe we gave the boy permission to get out of position, did we?"
"We did not," Maureen Walker confirmed. "I'm afraid, Basil, that you are making things very hard on yourself with your persistent disobedience. Now you'll need another dozen with the cane which you could very easily have avoided if you would just learn to obey orders."
"Oh, please, no more!" the boy whined most annoyingly. Jack ignored him, left the room and returend moments later with his favourite cane. Basil shivered when he saw it and broke into renewed tears.
Jack was unmoved by this display of self-pity and thrashed the boy mercilessly. The cane whacked deep into the bruised flesh again and again with great force. Basil had been forced to resume his position at the edge of the bed, hands on the floor, backside invitingly exposed and spread.
"Remember this next week," Maureen said after the boy was given permission to draw up his little shorts. "This will be your Sunday routine from now on until you learn proper behaviour in Church. "