Patrick stood before his father's desk, head down. The command to report to his dad's study had come just after the family had finished the evening meal. That was the normal procedure. Patch, just under 10 years old, was the youngest of four brothers, and generally the one in trouble the least.
"Patch," his father had announced, completely unexpectedly, "please report to my study at 7pm sharp."
There had been a stunned silence around the table. Patrick's three brothers had looked at the younger sibling in surprise. It was only Patch who had known why he was being summoned. He had left the letter from his teacher on his dad's desk, as was the accepted way that communications from the school were handled by the boys. Patch had been caught cheating in a maths test, using a calculator when it was strictly prohibited. Of course, the little boy had received zero for the test, and would be facing headmaster's cane on Monday. He would have taken his first ever hiding from the headmaster that very afternoon, had the man been at school, but Sir was away at a conference, and cheating was deemed serious enough that only the headmaster would punish boys caught doing it. So Patch would have to wait nearly a week before facing the feared disciplinarian. But before that, he had to face his father. At least the belting that he was due to receive would not be over an already caned bottom.
Although he had not been told to, the nine-year-old had taken off his pyjamas in his bedroom, and stood at attention before his father stark naked. This was only the third time in his life that the pre-teen had reported for a serious thrashing from his daddy, but he knew it would be a terribly painful experience. His father doted over him - being the youngest, but when he decided to punish his sons, he really whipped their backsides. And Patrick knew that his dad would have no mercy for a cheat. Eventually the man got up from behind his desk, and walked slowly around his youngest son. Patrick's short, jet black hair stuck to his forehead, and his knees were visibly trembling. The boy was a sturdy little chap, well built for his age, pale skin and almost glowing, rounded, chubby little white bottom. The boy's blue eyes were brimming with tears, and his full red lips looked swollen, always a sign that Patch was on the verge of crying. "I am very disappointed in you my boy," the big man addressed the small boy, "you know how I feel about dishonesty. Have you anything to say for yourself?"
"No sir," Patrick was devastated. He hated to let his daddy down like this, "I just wanted to get good marks in my test."
"Dont worry, young man. You will get good marks, that's for sure. Good marks on your bottom!"
"Yes, daddy," the nine-year-old affirmed, "I deserve a very big hiding for this. Two hidings, one from you now, and one from the headmaster next week."
Many fathers would have recognised that the long wait and the promised thrashing from the headmaster's cane would be punishment enough for a little boy, just shy of his 10th birthday. But Patrick's dad was a firm believer in administering his own discipline to his sons. Even if Patrick had received his bare bottom school caning that very afternoon, his father would still have belted his bruised backside just as severely.
"Off you go then, and fetch the strap. Bring the black one this time."
With his heart in his mouth, the pre-teen left the study and headed downstairs to the sitting room where, behind the sofa, his father kept the implements for the physical chastisement of his boys. The purpose of this strange storage space was very simple. It meant that the naked boy about to be punished had to ask his brothers to help him move the for heavy piece of furniture, which was embarrassing enough, but they also got to see which weapon would be produced, said they would know for well what their brother would be thrashed with. It was only Patchs third time retrieving an implement for his bare bottom, and despite the fact that all three older boys adored him, they could not help being excited by the prospect of the youngest boy having that perfectly rounded, soft bum beaten. When the boys moved the sofa out of the way, they all watched with interest to see which implement Patch would select. There was an array of straps, canes and paddles lying on the floor. The bigger boys where most impressed to see the nine-year-old select the black strap - certainly consider that the fiercest of all their fathers straps! Patch did not need their clasps to know the import of the weapon that he now carried back upstairs with him. Like all boys, the brothers always discussed their hidings, and there was never any argument that the black strap was the worst - almost as bad as the cane. It was about as long as the boys forearm, and as thick as his thumb. A molded wooden handle nailed to the end for easy grip. But Patch knew that he was in serious trouble, and had resigned himself to getting a very sore bottom by the end of the evening. He would wait until next week to worry about the headmaster's cane.
The naked little boy re entered his daddy's study and closed the door behind him. Shakily, he crossed the room to the big empty space on the carpet where his father was standing, waiting for him and handed the man the strap. Then he stood at attention before his dad, watching nervously as the man carefully examined the leather that he was going to use to beat his little boy's bottom. Eventually, his dad reached across and put the belt on the mantelpiece and slowly started to roll his sleeves up. Always a sign to the boy that was about to have his backside thrashed that he was planning to do a very thorough job indeed.
"Bend over, Patrick."
Knowing exactly what to do, Patch bent over, widening his feet so that his legs were straight and slightly further apart than his shoulders, grabbing his ankles, and keeping the his eyes firmly fixed on the carpet. Out of the corner of his eye he watched his father's feet as the man stared to the mantelpiece to retrieve the strap then walked around behind him. He felt his dad's big hand gently patting them rubbing his tender feeling bottom cheeks, then his dad exchanged the tapping of his hand for the rubbing of the leather.
Patrick's father enjoyed the soft feel of his sons little, white and chubby bum cheeks, and was impressed that the nine-year-old didn't even move when he started rubbing the boys bottom with the leather. He took his aim carefully, then let fly with the belt. He had lashed Patch with the same vigour and force that he would have used on his oldest son - 13 year-old Matthew, the crack of the strap and the agonised gasp of the small, bending boy loud in the room. Patrick's knees buckled with the burn of his first stroke. Last time his daddy had given him a hiding, he had used a much lighter strap, and he had not expected the black strap to be nearly as sore as this! But he quickly straightened his knees, trying to brace himself for the next burning lash. It arrived across his exposed bare rump just as painfully as the first lash and he sobbed with the pain of it. "Please daddy!" the nine year-old wailed, "Please, not so hard!"
Patchs dad ignored his begging, simply strapping the pre-teens bare, chubby little bottom again, hardening his heart to the boys crying. Patrick's bottom was on fire! His father whipped him again and the small boy couldn't take any more. He leapt up, clutching his burning backside with both hands and spun around to face his punisher. "Sorry, daddy! It's too sore - my bottoms too sore! Please, I've had enough!"
"I've only just started my boy! Bend over right now!"
"Please daddy!" Patrick sobbed, "I can't! My bottom can't take any more!"
Disappointed in his son's lack of self control, the man grasped the crying boy by his arm and marched him to the nearest big leather chair. He pushed the boy over the back of the chair. Patrick quickly was regaining his determination to take his punishment, and understood that his father was making it easier for him to stay down by bending him over the chair. Ready to show his submission, Patch widened his feet and pressed his head down, raising his tender bare bottom to his father's mercy. The man's anger evaporated at the boys actions. He remembered that Patrick was only nine, and he was punishing the child pretty severely. Bending him over the chair should have been his initial policy - it would be easier for the little boy to take his beating in that position. Not for one moment did he consider lessening Patrick's hiding. The lad would take every lash, and, of course the caning that he would receive at his strict prep school the following week too.
He rubbed the boy's hot, round and perfectly positioned bottom, then draped the strap over his small target again. Patrick used all of his will power to keep absolutely still – the hardest thing in the world for a nine year old to do as he felt the heavy leather lying on his sore, bare bum. The strap was lifted, and Patrick sensed his father swinging the belt up and then back down towards his backside. It arrived with a sharp crack, wrapping around his tender, raw little cheeks. By now, the pre-teen knew what to expect, and although his body squirmed with the burning agony he managed to keep still - legs apart, naked bottom still pushed up for the next lash. His daddy didn't make him wait long before belting him again, and, through the pain, Patch realised that his hiding was now being concentrated on his lower bottom, just above his legs. His brothers had all spoken of their dads preference for thrashing his sons on their lower backsides, the causes this was where a boy's bottom is at its most sensitive. Now the pre-teen understood that this was true. He felt as if his daddy was whipping the skin right off the lower part of his poor little hind quarters. But he shut his eyes tightly, gripped the seat of the seat of the chair and concentrated on keeping his legs spread and his bum up.
Patchs dad noted the change in the little boy's attitude towards his hiding. Although the child's rounded, soft small cheeks were bright red, especially low down where they were almost purple, the lad had passed the point of resistance, and was determined to take his thrashing. This was an important moment in the boys development. His three older sons had all been through this phase - where he had broken their resistance during a particularly severe hiding, and now all of his boys could be relied upon to strip naked, bend over, and present their bare bottoms for what ever thrashing the man felt appropriate. At last, Patch had reached this stage. His dad now knew that his youngest son would always be able to take his punishment.
He gave the nine year-old four more sizzling lashes with the strap, then gently helped the boy up. After comforting his son, he sent him to replace the strap (and show his battered bottom to his older brothers of course). As was the family ritual, he would not be allowed to dress again before going to bed. Not that Patch minded. His bottom was much too sore to put his pyjama shorts back over anyway.
The following Monday saw Patrick standing nervously outside the headmaster's office. Although he had been spanked frequently at school, he had never been punished by the headmaster, and was dreading the experience. He vaguely hoped that the feared and respected man would take pity on him and only strap him, but he was pretty certain that he would shortly be in for his first ever dose of the cane! Nine year old boys were seldom caned by the headmaster, but cheating was pretty bad, and Patch knew that he was in serious trouble. He also knew that the hiding that he had received from his father words have no bearing on the thrashing that he was likely to receive at school. 15 minutes previously, the headmaster had opened his door and ordered the nervous 4th grade boy to take off his shoes, socks and shorts, leaving the boy wearing nothing but his tie, school shirt and skimpy yellow underpants. That was a bad sign in itself! Patrick's heart jumped when he heard the door to the headmaster's office open again.
The headmaster stood at his door, admiring the small figure standing to attention, nose pressed to the opposite wall. The little chap looked almost comical, half naked, knees trembling, waiting nervously for his punishment. He had been surprised to learn of Patchs behaviour - he was normally considered such a marvellous little boy. But boys will be boys, and Patch had slipped up. The man would take advantage of the situation, and thoroughly enjoy tanning this could looking, delightful little boy's bottom! "In!"
Patrick turned around and slowly shuffled into sirs big office. Just as the older boys had told him, to chairs were standing back to back in the centre of the room. He knew that these were their especially for him to bend over. A topic of discussion among his friends was always the positions that masters had them for hidings, and it was considered that the headmaster's way got their bottoms up the best. Now he would find out for himself.
"Underpants off, please." the headmaster ordered, holding out his hand. Patch obeyed quickly, not wanting to make things any worse for himself, slipping his skimpy little briefs off his rounded bum, down his strong young legs and off. He nervously handed the thin garment to the large man, then stood, hands modestly in front of him, head down.
"It is not often that I have to deal with a boy for cheating. And even less frequently a boy as young as you - or as well respected as you!"
"I'm sorry sir. I don't know what got into me. I deserve to be severely punished, and I promise that it won't happen again," Patrick was already sobbing.
"You can bet on that young man. I have every intention of soundly thrashing your backside - don't expect to be able to sit down comfortably when you get back to your classroom!"
"Yes sir, I deserve a hiding sir."
Taking a firm grip on the boy's neck, the headmaster marched the pre-teen to the chairs. "Bend over!"
Patrick obediently knelt on one of the chairs and lent his body over the backs of them. It took little prompting to get the boy to press his forehead onto the seat of the other chair and grip the railings on the sides firmly. Then the headmaster lifted his shirt right up under his shoulders, revealing the nine-year-olds lower body, and especially his chubby, round little bottom. The boys position, and his wide spread knees forced his bum right up, cheeks spread, the maximum amount of flesh exposed for punishment. Then Patch knew what the other boys had meant when they said that the headmaster's thrashing position was the best. Never had his bare little behind felt so tender and helpless. The man walked to his desk, and, to the pre-teens horror, but not surprise, he picked up his cane! It looked terribly long and fearsome in the big man's hand, and the sound of it swishing through the air as the headmaster took his practice strokes was very frightening. Of course, the cane was only a standard junior school cane, specially made for the thrashing off pre-teen boys bottoms, but to Patrick it appeared a terrible implement of torture.
"It is my custom to give boys their first hidings with a strap and over their underpants, Patrick," the headmaster explained, "but for you I am making an exception. Let this be a lesson to you about how I feel about cheats - I cane them on their bare bottoms, no matter who they are and how old they are!"
Patrick just nodded his head, and the headmaster stood behind the submissive boy. He noted the fading bruising marring the delicate white skin of his backside, especially on the child's lower bottom, and imagined the hiding that would have been responsible for those marks, "I see that someone has been tanning your bottom already, young man. Was that your father's way of dealing with a cheating boy?"
"I got a hiding with the strap a last week, sir, from my daddy," Patrick confirmed, "also on my bare bottom. But I deserved it for letting him down, sir, just as I deserve this caning from you."
"Darn right, you do!" the headmaster that the nine-year-old was so willing to take his just rewards. He carefully aligned the cane up on his perfectly presented little target, aiming good and there, despite the faint bruises already on that part of Patchs bottom. Then he swung the stick, snapping it into the little boys hind quarters, ensuring that he followed the straight through vigorously, so that all of his efforts could be felt by the bending child. Patch wailed, and his body plunged on the chairs as the almost and believable agony of the cane was absorbed by his small bare bottom. He hang on to the rungs are of the chair with all his will, pressing his head down and struggling to resist the instinctive urge to leap and move his bottom away from the flight path the cane. The headmaster was impressed! It had been a hard lash - and he had not expected such a young boy to take it so well. But the state of the child's bottom before he had caned him reflected that the boy was no stranger to hidings, so perhaps tanning this small backside would prove easier than expected. Boys in grade four and below were often difficult to administer a really good hiding to, because they found it difficult to cope with the pain of the cane. It appeared that Patrick would take his thrashing.
The cane snapped across his exposed bottom again, and Patch really battled to control himself as the pain exploded through his small buttocks. The headmaster was aiming low, of course, and the agony was eating deep into the tender curve of the pre-teens naked bum cheeks, just above his legs. There was a long pause, and then the cane smashed across his poor bare bottom again, the third stroke seeming to double the aggregate fire burning through the middle of his body. This was far worse than his father's strap! The arrival of the 4th stroke seemed to take forever, but it bit into his bottom just as painfully as the others, and Patch did not know how he would be able to take any more of this excruciating punishment. But luckily for him, the headmaster had decided that the little boy had had enough. Taking his time, leaving the sobbing boy bending over, throbbing bottom still raised, he replaced the cane on his desk, and then tend around to admire his work. Patrick's white little bottom had four scarlet stripes lined down the lower half of his cheeks - certainly a small boy well punished, struggling to control his sobbing. He might have given the child more lashes, but it was obvious that the boy's father had already given him a sound hiding, and enough was enough.
A little later, Patch was in the boys bathroom, surrounded by classmates and a few older boys. He paid a little heed to their comments, only relieved that he had not received a more severe hiding. He caught the eye of his second oldest brother, Marcus. The 12 year old had received a hiding from their dads cane just the night before. Six of the best for fighting in the park, and another six of the best for lying about it - all on the bare bottom of course, a total of 12 of the best, bare bottomed, with the cane. Marcuss battered backside certainly gave Patch sound perspective on his hiding. And a great deal of respect for not only his brother, but the strength of his father's arm!