Dear Reader Please understand that I would never condone the severity of this lad's beating in real life. But pure fantasy is fun, isn't it? Enjoy. Tristan

The prince appeared before his father in a private audience. The king was a very angry man.

"Son, have we not spoken to you at length about not hunting your pack through agricultural lands?"

The attractive, blond twelve year old bowed his head.

"Yes father," he replied, "you told me that the farmers need to be left to produce the foods and other goods required by the markets."

"Well then, Why! Why must you disobey me and the laws that I make. You are NOT above the law, my boy!"

The boy focused his eyes on the floor, crying quietly in shame.

"I...we...father, I just got carried away. I didn't mean to cause any real harm."

"But you did!" The king roared, "And as a result the palace has to pay the damages, and, worse, you, as heir, are seen as a spoilt and cruel brat!"

The boy had no answer. He continued sniffeling at the floor.

"Go to your chambers," the king commanded, "and since it is your reputation that has been damaged in the eyes of the people, you must think of a punishment that will suitably humble you in front of the citizens."

The prince departed to his chambers, and spent most of the day there. He had an idea, but it took him many hours to draw up the courage to go through with it. It would not be a pleasant experience, but he could think of nothing else that would undo the damage his image had suffered. Finally, just before dinner, he once again appeared before his father.

"Father," he began, his voice catching a little, "a common boy would be whipped in public for the crime that I committed. He would receive the maximum punishment for a twelve year old boy - six strokes of the whip on his bare bottom from the Punisher. I think that would be a suitable punishment for me too, to show that I am not immune to the law."

The king looked down at his young son. He had expected the boy to make this suggestion. It was just like him to want to be treated like any other common child. But as the future king, this boy had to be treated differently, even if it was difficult to act so harshly towards his own son.

"Very well," he agreed, "but a prince is even more responsible before the law than a commoner. You will receive twelve strokes, not six."

The little boy gulped. This was more than he had bargained for. He had on many occassions witnessed boys his own age being whipped for their crimes. He had heard their screams as the whip had smashed across their upraised bottoms, and seen the deep red welts left on the white flesh as the whip had been lifted. Now he was going to be the one screaming in pain, and his punishment would be far worse than any he had seen before.

The whipping of the prince was scheduled for three days' time, so that those in the outlying regions would be able to travel in to enjoy the humiliation of the royal heir. Special stands were erected around the famous central square where beatings were always given, so that as many members of the public as possible could watch the boy atone for his crime. The most infamous Punisher in the whole kingdom was assigned the task of giving the prince his hiding. This man was chosen for his experience in thrashing boys' bottoms - he knew how to inflict maximum pain without breaking the skin. It was the rule that should the whip cause a boy's bottom to bleed, the punishment would be deemed complete, and any remaining strokes would be forfeit. The king wanted his son to endure his full punishment, so that the people would have see that the boy had paid the full price for his behaviour.

On the morning of the whipping, the prince summoned the Punisher to his chambers. The man expected the boy to confront him with bribes, and even threats, to go easy. After all, the boy was the next king, and in the future could make a powerful enemy.

But when he entered the prince's rooms, he was met by a scared, pale loking youngster, who rose to great him. The child looked him straight in the eye.

"Do you know that I chose this form of punishment for myself?" the boy asked.

"Yes, Sire. It has been the talk of the town that you are prepared to be humiliated in front of all the people."

"Good. Then listen carefully," the prince, even as he was about to be thrashed, had a commanding hold in his voice, "my reputation is at stake here. You must whip me as hard as you would the lowest of peasant boys. When I am over that trestle, treat my bottom as you would anyone else's. Those people must see that I can take my punishment for a crime like any one of them."

The Punisher was speechless. This was not the command he had expected from this youngster standing before him.

"Sire, twelve strokes will be very painful..."

"I know. But I must take them properly!" there was a note of pleading in the prince's voice, "I promise you that I will hold no grudge against you for giving me the hiding that I deserve. Now go and prepare."

The Punisher left for the square, and the prince sat again to contemplate the coming beating. He wondered if he had been wise to ask for no mercy. He hoped he could take his thrashing in a dignified way. This was going to be bad. Smiling ruefully, he realised that this would be the last time that he sat comfortably for some time.

By now the crowds had gathered, and were ready for a show. They watched in excitement as the Punisher prepared his whip. It was made of heavy, tightly braided leather, and soaked in a bucket of brine since the Punisher had been given his assignment two days before. Many of the local little boys crowded around the enclosure. A good few had lain over the punishment trestle and felt the bite of the whip across their bare bottoms. They had been aware that the prince was watching from the Royal Balcony, but now they were the watches, and the prince the one who would be howling in pain. But still they were sympathetic.

"Twelve strokes! Wow..."

"Nobody's ever seen the prince nude..."

"I had four a few months back. It was really sore, but twelve...!"

"His bum's going to be so red..."

There was a hushed silence as the door on the side of the square opened and a tall, slim blond figure emerged. It took a moment for the people to recognise their prince, right there among them, instead of high on a balcony or horse. Instead of his fine robes, he was dressed in the customary sack cloth gown, always worn by boys about to be whipped.

The boy's humble appearance caused a ripple of approval to run through the crowd. He was, after all, just another little boy, prone to naughty pranks, like all of their children. His willingness to accept his punishment had made an impression on them already, even before he had taken his hiding. For the boys waiting on the outside of the barriers, the proximity of the prince hushed them for once. They were amazed that he looked no different from them, a little cleaner perhaps, but that was all!

The prince approached the Punisher. He stood for a few seconds in front of the huge man, head bowed, then, as was custom, undid and removed the gown, handing it to the huge man. Totally naked now, he dropped to his knees.

"Please sir," his voice rang out in the obligatory request, "punish me as I deserve."

With that, he took the tip of the whip that the Punisher held, and pressed it to his lips, as any common boy would have been commanded to do.

The Punisher effortlessly picked the little prince up, and gently draped the naked boy over the specially designed punishment trestle. He spread the lad's arms and legs and firmly strapped them down. The crowd watched with excitement as the prince was strapped into position, his body forming a triangle with his smooth white bottom at the apex. His widespread arms and legs made him completely vulnerable to the whip. Many admired his lean, strong and unblemnished body as the naked prince awaited his thrashing.

A doctor stepped forward, and after a brief examination, focused mainly on the prince's bottom, turned to the Punisher,

"This boy is fit to receive his punishment."

The Punisher dipped his whip once more into the bucket of brine next to him, then draped the beating implement across the boy's naked backside. Those closest could see how the boy tried in vain to clench his buttocks as he felt the wet, heavy leather resting on his tail.

There was a pause, then in one fluid motion the whip was lifted and brought crashing down across the royal bottom. The boy jerked with shock and pain, but managed to keep silent. The crowd roared its approval as the red welt appeared on the white flesh of the boy's bare bum.

The second stroke fell, and this time the prince hissed in pain, but still did not yell out. Even after the third, the boy suffered in almost complete silence. Nobody could doubt the severity of the lashes. Three deep red welts crossed the boy's previously white bottom.

When the fourth stroke landed, the little prince could take no more. He screamed in agony, and the crowd howled with him. His pain drove their shouts to new levels.

"That's right, lay into him..."

"Tan that royal bum good..."

"Wow, he only cried out after the fourth. Most cry from the first..."

"Harder, Punisher, harder...!"

The fifth and sixth strokes were administered with no less force, and the prince howled after both of them. There was a pause, and the boy felt the rough hands of the doctor running over the six painful welts throbbing across his bottom. This hiding was far more painful than he had anticipated. he sould no longer see the crowds through his tear blurred eyes.

"You may carry on, Punisher," the doctor was saying, "his bottom is tougher than one would have expected from a prince - it can take a deal more beating."

The wet whip was once more lined up on the boy's bare bottom, and the thrashing resumed. For the prince, it seemed to go on forever - one long blur of pain, as lash after lash was laid across his naked tail. Finally, the whip stopped falling and he opened his eyes. His awareness was taken up exclusively with the excrutiating burning of his little bottom. He didn't even notice how sore his throat was from his howling.

The Punisher undid the bonds, then lifted the naked boy onto his shoulders. As was the custom after a public thrashing, the boy was carried around the square, bottom facing front, so that the public could admire the Punisher's handiwork and hopefully the boys would think twice about being over that trestle themselves. It was the first time that the people had seen a bottom so well beaten that they could not distinguish the individual welts.

Needless to say, the prince ate standing and slept on his tummy for several weeks. In fact, for the first week, he wore nothing but light silk robes without any underware. And when he though nobody was looking, he gingerly held even these robes away from his bruised young bottom.