Driving along the beach road early one afternoon, I was surprised to see a young hitch-hiker. As I drew near, I was even more surprised to note that it was a close friend of my own son. I pulled the car over, and the lad rushed over to me. Too late, he recognised me, and tried to stammer an excuse.
"Just get in the car, Jack," I ordered, and sheepishly Jack climbed into the passenger seat. I said nothing for a few minutes as I edged my way back into the traffic, then, without looking at the boy, "aren't you supposed to be in school?"
"Yes, Uncle Dan," the 12 year-old replied softly. I think that he knew that he would not be getting away with this.
"So?" I thought it better that the boy explained himself to me. Jack and my son, Travis, were both prefects at their prep school - and in fact Jack was the head boy. That was why I was somewhat surprised to find him hitch-hiking on a school day.
"I was bunking school today," the pre-teen was clearly very embarrassed. The last thing that he had expected was to meet the father of one of his friends, "I just couldn't resist going to the beach."
I decided to take the boy straight home and wait with him until his mother arrived. She would have to deal with him - although I felt sorry for the woman, as her husband had died when Jack was nine, and she had been raising him and his 10 year-old brother, Alex, on her own for the last three years. But the boys success at school, both in the classroom and on the sports field, must have made her very proud. Jack was one of those wonderful boys who showed a maturity beyond his years - and his appearance! He was one of the smallest 12 year-olds in the school, with a slender body, light brown almost blond hair, and sparkling blue eyes. Alex, the younger of the two boys, was really just a slightly smaller version of Jack, with the same lovely nature. But clearly boys will be boys and even Jack wasn't perfect. I hoped the headmaster at the boys' school would not take away the lads privileges. It was a pity that the cane had been banned. A good hiding at school would have been the perfect punishment for this mistake.
When we got to his house, I sent Jack upstairs to have a shower. He had obviously had a good day at the beach, as he was sweaty and sticky from the sea water. I sat in the sitting room, waiting for the boy to finish so that we could discuss his behaviour. When I had sent him upstairs, I had made it clear that I would be waiting with him for his mother to get back from work so that he could explain himself to her. But he had protested that she would only be home very late as she was working a late shift. That had made no difference to me. I did not need to fetch Travis from school as his mother would do that and I would join them for dinner later after I had spoken to Jacks mum. After about 10 minutes, I looked up from the newspaper that I had been reading to see Jack standing at the bottom of the stairs. His head and body was still slightly damp from the shower, and the boy had wrapped a towel around his waist. His posture was one of abject embarrassment and submission. Obviously, he had been giving some thought to the consequences of his behaviour.
"This is pretty serious, isn't it Uncle Dan?" the boy asked me nervously. Perhaps he realised that his head boy badge and even his prefect privileges were likely to be forfeited should his school find out about his truancy.
"It certainly is, my boy. Not only is truancy a serious offence, but hitch-hiking is just dangerous, especially for a good-looking boy your age."
"I think I will be in very big trouble at school for bunking, and my mum will probably ground me for months for this!"
"You are going to have to take your punishment, Jack," I was not totally unsympathetic. I had a lot of respect for Jack, and I knew that he was a good influence on Travis. My own son had a tendency to do silly things, and I was glad that he had a friend like Jack to calm him down.
"What would you have done if it had been Travis that you caught, not me?"
I did not hesitate, and I think that Jack already knew what the answer would be. He knew how my son was brought up, "I would tan his backside!"
"Yes," Jack nodded his head as if agreeing with an important point that I had made, "you would give him a good hiding. I have seen the marks on his bottom when you have thrashed him. When my dad was alive he also used to give me hidings. That's what I deserved today."
"I agree with you," I sat back in my chair and admire the slim, pale body of the pre-teen. He was a couple of months older than Travis, so I knew that the boy must be only a month or so away from his 13th birthday. He was beginning to get some muscle definition, but was still very much the little boy, "but it is not my place to punish you, that decision has to be made by your mother."
"But she will ground me, and tell the headmaster!" Jack left the staircase and walked towards me, "Please would you punish me - just like Travis! Please give me a hiding, and then don't tell anybody that I was playing truant!"
"I can't do that! Much as you deserve it, Jack I do not have the authority to thrash your backside, no matter how willing you are to submit to punishment, or how richly you deserve to get your bottom warmed up by me."
"Please! Nobody will know! It will just be between you and me!"
Once again I admired the almost naked boy. I had often wondered what it would be like to beat his rounded little bottom that had always remained hidden by his shorts. This was my opportunity, and I was convinced. Jack would get a whipping, one that he would never forget, "Very well then," I sighed, getting up from the armchair in which I was sitting. Slowly and deliberately I started to unbuckle my heavy leather belt. Without being told, Jack quickly took the towel away from his waist, hung it neatly on the balustrade of the staircase, then, stark naked, came to stand before me. The boy made no attempt to protect his modesty, and I noted that he was completely hairless. Just like my son, but his skin was far paler than Traviss.
Putting one hand on the boy's shoulder, I led him around to the back of the armchair. The chair was a heavy, old piece of furniture, with a broad back that was just higher than Jacks waist. Again, the boy surprised me by bending over perfectly without any prompting. He draped his nude body over the back of the chair resting his hips in the perfect position to get his bare bottom right up for me, dropping his head, and widening his sturdy young legs as far apart as they could stretch. His rounded, white bottom was irresistible, and I just had to gently rub it for a few moments, enjoying the firm softness of the cheeks. Then I traced the doubled over belt across my target, noting that the boy kept absolutely still. Even Travis, who was most familiar with my belt being used on his bare bottom shuffled slightly when I took my aim at the beginning of hidings, but Jack was motionless. Twisting my body slightly, I drew the strap back and upwards then swung the leather towards my pale target, cracking it firmly across the centre of Jacks upraised cheeks. The snap of the belt was very loud in the quiet room, and the boy gasped with the sudden burning pain that must have exploded across his exposed backside. But he surprised me once again,
"Harder!" Jack mumbled, lifting his head and turning it to look at me.
"I beg your pardon?" I was amazed by the boy's request. A slightly curved red stripe was already beginning to form on his perfectly rounded little bottom, and I couldn't believe that this bending boy was actually asking me to whip him more severely.
"It hurt," Jack confirmed, "but no more than my dad's hidings hurt when I was eight. I'm nearly 13 now, so my thrashings should be a lot worse. Besides, I'm sure you would have hit Travis harder!"
The boy was right. Although I had leathered his backside firmly, I had still held back. After all, he was not my son, and I had no idea what his pain threshold was like. I knew that Travis could take a very severe hiding, and I had not wanted to be too hard on Jack. "That is not entirely true, Jack. For truancy and hitch-hiking I wouldn't be belting Travis. He would be on his knees on his bed getting a darn good bare bottomed hiding with my cane!"
"Then cane me," Jack responded softly after thinking through my comment.
"No, my boy," I was impressed by the child's willingness to take punishment, but he was, after all, a boy whose bottom had not been beaten properly in a long time, "the belt is good enough for you for today, but don't worry, you'll certainly feel the rest of your hiding. And since you are nearly 13, you can have 13 more lashes for your bunking, and then we'll deal with the issue of your hitch-hiking!"
Jack said no more, simply dropping his head preparing his naked bottom for the onslaught of my belt. He was not disappointed! I really laid the leather hard across his up raised cheeks this time, and by the time the strap cracked across his bare rear end for the 4th time, I could hear the distinct sounds of the boy crying. I had quickly reduced this confident, intelligent boy on the verge of his teenage years back to a little lad getting his bottom soundly thrashed. There is nothing like a good, bare bottom hiding, to get to the soul of a boy. I was deliberately waiting for long moments before each stroke so that Jack could appreciate each and every lash as its agony burnt into his tender buttocks. Just as I cracked the belt for the 5th time across what was becoming a very red young bottom, the front door opened, and in walked Alex! The small boy froze at the site that greeted him - a large, belt wielding man, someone that he had met a few times and who had always been very kind to him, standing over his stark naked big brother, who was submissively bending over the back of an armchair, his 12 year-old bottom clearly showing the signs of being a soundly beaten.
Alex was a bright little boy, and he quickly took in the situation. He realised that Jack was getting a hiding, but at the same time it dawned on him that he himself would have some explaining to do - he was home at least an hour before he was supposed to be. But it was Jack who spoke up first, "I'm getting a hiding for truancy, Alex. Please don't tell mum, or anybody at school," then he realised that his brother also should have been at school, "but why are you not at school? If you've also been playing truant, you'd better also get a hiding!"
"But I'm only 10!" objected the younger boy.
"Well then you know what mum is going to do," Jack reminded his little brother, "at least I'm getting my punishment over and done with!"
I listened to this exchange between the brothers with interest. There was the fully dressed, rather nervous ten-year-old having to make this decision, all the time being influenced by his big brother, even although the older boy was in the most humiliating position, stark naked, and sporting the signs of an already sore bottom. Alex's big brothers face was already slightly marked with tears, and there he was encouraging the younger pre-teen to put himself in the same position!
Jack continued with his persuasive argument, and it became clear that he had a huge influence on his brother. Eventually, the naked 12 year-old finished off his lecture then dropped his head, "If you decide to take a hiding, you better strip off all your clothing, and ask Uncle Dan to belt you!"
Again, Alex demonstrated his intelligence. He had quickly assessed the his own position, and understood that he also had an option. There would be no getting away from the fact that he had sneaked off early from school, so he had better make the best of the situation. Either he would have to face his mother, or he could join his big brother in getting his punishment over and done with a there and then - by submitting to a good hiding. To my surprise, the slender 10 year-old started to undress! "I skived off early, Jack and Uncle Dan," the smaller boy explained, quickly stripping "and I did not expect to find anybody at home. Uncle Dan, please will you give me a hiding like you are giving to Jack?"
I was amazed at how quickly Alex had managed to get naked, but I took a lot less persuading to punish the younger boy as I was punishing his brother. Like Jack, Alex seemed totally unconcerned by his nudity before me, and I took a moment to admire his slim, sinewy little body. I nodded my head, agreeing to punish him, "Go and stand in the corner, my boy," I gestured to a corner of the room with the strap, "nose to the wall, hands on head, and I will thrash your bottom as soon as I am finished giving Jack his hiding for truancy. That will give him a chance to recover before I tan his backside for hitch-hiking."
Without the slightest hesitation, Alex followed my instruction, and within moments I was admiring the rear view of the slender 10 year-old. Like Jack, he was a fair skinned boy, but his rounded little bottom still stood out beautifully. It was amazing to think that just under an hour ago I had been driving home, and suddenly here I was punishing a pair of good looking pre-teen boys. I turned my attention back to the soft, rounded, and somewhat reddened bottom of the 12 year-old, lifted the belt, and cracked it down upon my chubby target. Jack gasped with the burn of the leather as it wrapped around his naked buttocks. Halfway through this hiding, and after I had thrashed the smaller bottom of Alex, Jack was now well aware that he would be back over the chair for another instalment of his own discipline.
I was really enjoying leathering Jacks bottom, and I went about my duty with enthusiasm. Although I could hear sobs from the seat of the chair between my long drawn-out strokes, the boy kept his bottom up and his head down, determined to take his punishment bravely, especially now that his younger brother was in the room. When I had given Jack his thirteen, I made him lie there for a few more moments, then allowed the softly crying pre-teen to get up. In comparison with the thrashings that I gave to my own son, the hiding that Jack had just received was fairly minor, but it was clear from his tears and the way that he was desperately holding on to his sore young bottom that this boy had not had a decent whipping in many years. I sent him off to stand against the wall next to his brother, and made him place his hands on his head. He had done enough bottom rubbing for now, and he needed to allow his backside to throb for a bit while he listened to Alexs thrashing and contemplated the next set of strokes that he was due.
I called the younger boy over to me, and he stood before me, hands still on his head, completely comfortable with his nakedness, eyes down, "Have you ever had a hiding, Alex?"
"Not really, Uncle Dan. When my daddy was alive he gave me a couple of spankings. But I never got a real hiding, like you are going to give me now. But I deserve a good belting, so please punish me like a big boy."
"Bend over," I tapped the backrest of the armchair with the strap, and tentatively the 10 year-old bent his little body over the chair. Like Jack, he spread his legs wide, until he could barely touch the floor with his toes, and dropped his head. His small bottom was about two thirds of the size of Jacks bottom, but just as rounded, white, and chubby. I reached down and gave the tender little cheeks a squeeze, my hand easily covering both of them, "I'm going to give you 10 good lashes, Alex. That will do for today."
I lifted the belt up and cracked it down on my little target, just as fiercely as I had strapped Jack. But Alex had not been prepared for the fiery agony of the heavy leather connecting with his small bare bottom, so with a wail of pain and fright he rolled off the chair, landing on his knees in front of me, desperately hanging on to his sore bum.
"That was too sore, Uncle Dan!" the pre-teen cried, "I can't take it that hard!"
"That's okay, Alex. You can put your clothing back on and we'll just let your mother deal with you."
"Please can't you just give me the hiding a little softer?"
I decided to be very firm with the boy. If he was to develop the good character of his brother, he would have to learn to take the consequences for his actions bravely, "No, my boy. If you choose to have a hiding from me, you have to take it as hard as I decide to administer it."
It was Jack who persuaded the smaller boy to face up to his thrashing, "I'm disappointed in you, Alex," the 12 year-old, still facing the wall, spoke to his brother, "I thought you were tough enough and honest enough to take what you deserve. Bend back over that chair and take your hiding!"
Jacks words transformed the 10 year-old. The smaller boy quickly got up again, and, squaring his skinny shoulders, with great dignity he bent back over the chair, raising his bottom right up for his thrashing, legs spread again. I couldn't help noticing the red, slightly curved, typical evidence of a belt stripe across his small buttocks, "I'm sorry for being a wimp, Uncle Dan. Please carry on with my hiding, and please start again so that I can get all 10 lashes without getting up."
I draped the belt over Alex's backside, and, despite his brave words, the nude pre-teen shuddered as he felt the leather touching his naked cheeks. He knew how much the strap stung, and he had just committed himself to taking 10 agonising lashes without moving. But, like Jack, Alex was a determined little boy, and at that moment I had no doubt that he would stay down for the duration of his hiding.
The strap cracked down across the small lads hindquarters, and Alex bravely endured the first two vigorous, drawn out stripes in silence, the only evidence of how sore his chubby little bottom was getting was his reflexive jerking as each lash landed. But from a the third stroke onwards, the boy started to grunt and then sob as the heat flowing across his previously unthrashed bum cheeks grew to almost unbearable levels. This little chap was indeed getting a painful introduction to corporal punishment. But to his credit, he took all 10 firm strokes without moving out of position or trying to protect his bottom. I remembered Travis at aged 10. Belt hidings like this were for minor offences – the child had been introduced to the junior cane when he was nine, and now it was the main implement administered to his bare 12 year-old bottom when he needed a good hiding. Something that happened every two to three months.
When I allowed Alex to get up, the spank dance that he performed, jumping around behind the chair, hands clutching bottom, face wet with tears, was almost comical. The typical reaction of a little boy who has just had a good hiding. Even now, Travis gave me the same performance after a sound caning. I let the little chap soothe his backside for a few moments, then sent him to stand back against the wall, hands on his head. I admired the view - the brothers both had nicely reddened rear ends. Then I instructed Jack to return to the chair and bend over for the second half of his beating. Slowly, the boy complied. Although he was clearly reluctant to assume the submissive punishment position again, especially now that he had a sore, tender bottom, and he knew that I would have no mercy and continue to soundly leather his up raised backside.
Unlike the start of the last hiding, when I laid the belt on the 12 year-olds bottom this time, he flinched in anticipation of what was to come. But he had been right about me not having any sympathy for his battered rear end. I belted him hard! The sound of my heavy leather strap connecting with his rounded, soft bare bottom was just as satisfying to me, but the experience for Jack was far more painful than his first dozen lashes. Obviously, being strapped on an already well belted bottom is an excruciating experience, and Jack was one pre-teen boy who was learning a painful lesson about the dangers of hitch-hiking. For a moment I tried to picture the lad in his smart school uniform, wearing his head boy badge and commanding the respect of the younger boys at the school. But here he was, submissively bent over a chair stark naked before me, legs spread, head down and boyish bottom raised, being a soundly whipped. I have to admit that I was proud of the boy - he held no airs and graces, simply submitting to his well deserved punishment and hopefully learning his lesson from it. In this respect, he was a lot like my own son.
Eventually, the hiding was over. After making the brothers stand against the wall for another 10 minutes, hands on their heads, glowing bottoms on display, I stood them before me and reassured them that their little crimes would remain a private matter between the three of us, and that I was satisfied that they had been sufficiently punished. But as they ruefully rubbed their throbbing young bottoms, I had to add a warning, "If I catch either of you involved in this kind of poor behaviour again, it will be my cane that you will be feeling!"
"I promise that I will behave, Uncle Dan," Alex was the first to respond, "but if I am a naughty boy, I would much rather that you punish me - even with the cane on my bare bottom - than get grounded by my mum."
"Yes, Uncle Dan," Jack agreed, "if Travis can take a caning on the bare backside, then so can I, and so can Alex. Thank you for punishing us."
The two naked, fatherless little boys stood before me a looking forlorn, and I could not resist pulling them towards me and hugging them tightly. It was clear that they needed and appreciated a man to guide them, and I imagined that this little session in their mother's sitting room would not be the last time that I had the pleasure of whipping their young bottoms.