Dr. Hawthorne called promptly at 7:00 a. m. on Saturday morning.
And how is the patient? he asked as he entered the foyer holding his little black bag.
Oh, the usual, Barry Bronson replied with a sigh She had a bad night again.
Yes, yes, the doctor nodded. That is to be expected. I will prescribe something stronger. We want to make her feel as comfortable as possible.
As the two men climbed the stairs to the second floor where Julia Bronsons bedroom was located, Dr. Hawthorne heard muffled cries coming from somewhere downstairs.
Whats that crying, Barry? he asked, motioning with his head towards the noise.
Bronson smiled and shook his head. Oh, thats young Nicholas. I guess hes being spanked again. That tutor of his is working on getting some better work out of him.
Nicholas? Isnt that Julias son from her previous marriage?
Yes.
How old is the boy now? the doctor asked as they entered Julias bedroom.
Turned eleven just a month ago. Dreadful boy, I must say. Had to take him out of school and get a private tutor. Its costing me a fortune. I hope Graham, thats the tutors name, Fred Graham, will do a good job until I send the boy to boarding school. I tried before, but they wouldnt admit the boy. I must say, I thrashed the boy within an inch of his life when that happened. His behaviour was inexcusable.
Julia lay moaning on the bed, still slightly drugged, but smiled up at the doctor as he approached the bed.
Well, Gary, Barry said, Ill leave you to it. I hope you are feeling better, he added to Julia as he left the room. He had no patience for sickly people.
Once downstairs, Bronson stopped for a moment listening by the study door. His study was being used as the school room and Barry had moved his papers to a small spare room. He didnt much space to do his work with the computer. The sounds of smacks and the boys cries were obvious evidence that young Nicholas had not satisfied his tutor. Shaking his head, Bronson retired to his work room and closed the door. He had more important wok to do than listening to his stepson being disciplined.
Had Bronson entered the study, he would have found the youngster bent over the armrest of a leather sofa displaying a pair of naked buttocks ridged from their highest peak down towards the thighs with swelling red cane stripes. The tutor, Frederick Graham, stood over the boy, cane raised high, ready to deliver the next blow. His eyes were intent on the boys bare bottom, measuring the distance and aiming carefully. while the boy lay there, quivering and whimpering most annoyingly. The cane rushed downwards in a long arc and imbedded itself in the flesh fold where buttocks meet thighs. It was perfectly aimed and the tutor smiled as the boy shrieked with the pain.
This little scene then repeated itself for another 5 or 6 minutes until Graham had the boy roaring in anguish. Just 3 more, the man thought, to finish this off. Ignoring the boys desperate pleas, he lashed the cane 3 times forcefully across the boys upper thighs. Young Nicholas shrieks were deafening.
Very well, boy, Graham said gruffly, replacing the cane on his desk where it was always kept, ready for immediate use when required (and it was required at regular intervals every day), lets get back to work. Get up and pull up your shorts. Be sure to brace them up properly this time.
He watched as the sobbing child slowly heaved himself off the sofa, pull up his small shorts and adjust the tight braces. Then he gingerly lowered himself on the hard bench bought especially for his personal use. With trembling fingers he opened the book to the present lesson and, staring at the tearstained page, began to recite.
Four days later Dr. Hawthorne returned to check on his patient. To his amusement, he heard the same noise coming from the back of the house as he had on his previous visit. Nicholas again? he asked as he headed up the stairs.
Im afraid so, Bronson replied easily. Hes a difficult case, Graham tells me. We all have to be patient with the boy. Graham is doing everything possible to set him on the right course.
Yes, I can hear that, Hawthorne chuckled, entering Julias bedroom. Bronson returned to his own room to work.
When Hawthorne came back downstairs, the noise from the study had increased considerably.
Gary, that boy of yours is still being flogged, he said, joining Bronson. That tutor must be getting quite a workout.
Really? I wasnt listening, Bronson shrugged. I guess he knows what hes doing. Hows Julia?
You know, shes not getting better. Were just trying to slow the advance of the disease. Not much can be done.
Bronson sighed and stood up.
Gary, why dont you come into the sitting room and join me for a drink? Ill introduce you to the tutor and the boy. Give the boy a break for a while.
Well, I had asked my wife and daughter to meet me here. We are meeting friends for dinner who live not so far from here.
Well, just one drink, Bronson said and poured two glasses of sherry. The two men sat and sipped while they chatted.
When the doorbell rang, Hawthorne stood up. That must be them, he said.
Bronson opened the door and asked the visitors to enter.
Ah, may I introduce my wife Helen, my daughter Betty, Hawthorne said when the two women were ushered into the sitting room.
After introductions, Bronson picked up the house phone.
Mr. Graham? Be so kind as to join us in the sitting room. We have visitors Id like you to meet. And bring the boy. Yes, yes, please finish and then bring him in here.
Bronson looked at Hawthorne and winked. Graham says he hasnt quite finished with the boy yet but theyll be here presently. I hope youre not in a rush?
The Hawthorne ladies shook their heads. Actually, we are early. Our friends just telephoned saying they would be delayed. Weve got a good hour yet.
About 5 minutes later the door opened and a young boy was propelled roughly into the room by a squat, bald man in a grey suit. The visitors stared at the pair.
The boy, dark hair and eyes, was struggling to get his brief little shorts properly fastened; the braces still hung from his shoulders. His face was wet with tears, eyes red with swollen lids, his mouth twitching. When he saw the assembled adult contemplating his clumsy efforts to adjust his clothes, his face turned even redder.
May I present Mr. Frederick Graham and his young charge, Master Nicholas, Bronson said, and introduced the visitors.
Any sherry, Mr. Graham? Bronson asked and the man nodded.
Yes, please, doctor. Nicholas, stop fussing with your shorts and bring the bottle to your father. Make yourself useful for a change.
With one hand still holding the waistband of his shorts, the boy trudged over to the table and brought the bottle. Bronson took and poured more drinks to all while Nicholas, having finally closed his shorts and replaced the braces, stood forlornly in the middle of the room, one hand holding his right buttock. When he realised that they were all inspecting him, he quickly withdrew the hand.
Well, my boy, Dr. Hawthorne finally broke the silence, Im told youve just been soundly flogged. Is that correct?
Nicholas started and licked his lips. His embarrassment was comical and Betty giggled.
Answer the doctor, Bronson said sharply, giving the writhing boy a withering glare.
Yes, sir, Nicholas mumbled, facing the doctor.
Being a naughty little boy again? Hawthorne continued, amused at the boys discomfort.
Yes, sir, the boy said, looking briefly at his tutor.
Does the boy get it often? Helen Hawthorne asked with interest. We only have our daughter, so we are not well acquainted with a boys discipline.
Graham smiled at the boy. Well, now, Nicholas, what would you say? How often do you get it?
Nicholas face was starting to show signs of panic. I - I dont know, sir, he stammered.
Well, make a guess, Betty said, seeming to get into the mood.
Well, lets try and help the boy, Graham interjected. Its not an easy question to answer. First, lets identify the various punishments. Start with spankings, ordinary traditional over-the-knee bare bottom spankings.
The effect of these words on the boy were electric. His face crumpled and he seemed on the verge of tears. Oh, sir - He looked pleadingly first at Graham, then at Bronson, but neither responded. They all just stood, waiting.
I - er - I get spanked - here the boy almost choked on the word, about twice or 3 times a day, he finally managed to bring out in a rush.
He is slow at learning, his tutor agreed, but gradually improves after a good, sound spanking. The usual routine is him reciting his lessons while draped, shorts down, across my lap. When he is slow, he gets 50 on each cheek and that helps him continue. As you can imagine, its difficult to gauge the number of spankings. Let switch to sessions with the tawse, Nicholas. How many times have I had to use this helpful little strap on you this week?
Nicholas fidgeted and twisted the hems of his shorts. He was now visibly sweating and his bare knees were shaking. He stood, red-faced, seemingly counting.
Come, come, boy, Graham encouraged his charge. Today is Wednesday. Three days this week, how many times? Dont tell me you have already forgotten. I must be more severe in the future if you can forget these whippings so son after.
Four times, sir, Nicholas finally blurted out.
That is correct. Once a day except for Tuesday when you got it once in the morning and then again before bedtime. Now, the cane? How many canings did you earn during these 3 days, eh?
This the boy knew. Three times, sir, he said quickly.
Yes, once a day. Thats his minimum, the tutor laughed. Ive been very lenient with him this week, but Im afraid that will change.
And you feel that this type of discipline is effective? Hawthorne inquired.
Absolutely, Graham replied. The boy has made big strides since I started with him. An amazing improvement.