That was maybe 3 or 4 years ago and things havent changed much. Only now Rebecca, at 19, is considered a mature woman and anything she says is carefully listened to.
To this day she brings friends over to witness my frequent thrashings, only now there are 2 or 3 "women" standing by to witness my shame. I am taller now and more ashamed at my semi nudity during my punishments, but I was not allowed to hide anything while they were there. "It is good for him" I always heard my parents say, but I dont know how it could have been. I was ashamed enough at having my bare backside spread and exposed to their unblinking eyes and was usually driven to tears with their heartless comments and jokes. What was humorous for them, was acutely humiliating and painful for me.
I am now almost 12 years old but it appears that I still commit childish mistakes every day. Rebeccas tutor had also taken over my studies soon after I arrived but had not been in favor of corporal punishment even for boys so my parents decided to hire someone more to their liking to tutor me.
It turned out to be a great academician deeply steeped in the old traditional Prussian methods of education. He actually had brought his own cane upon his arrival and had sternly explained to me that it would be used at the slightest pretext. "And applied quite vigorously," he added ominously.
He came early in the mornings and left in the late afternoon, Mondays through Fridays, and on Saturdays until noon. Rebecca had Saturdays off, but what would you expect? She was almost ready for university. We studied in adjoining rooms and she always teased me after having heard the swish of the cane and my cries of pain through the thick walls. "Had some good lessons?" she would ask. "I heard how enthusiastically you participated in the discussions." And she would laugh upon seeing my face grow a deep shade of red.
The weekends were the worst in many ways. After my Saturday morning lessons, I joined the rest for lunch walking painfully to my chair and sitting down even more slowly and gingerly. Rebecca would then announce her invitation of 2 or 3 of her friends later that afternoon. Following this, she casually mentioned that I had obviously had some bad lessons with the tutor because she had heard him punishing me. In addition, I had used bad language towards her when she had gloated about it. She really though I ought to feel the cane for that rudeness. She did not mention that she had practically goaded me into replying forcefully with some choice words.
"But Rebecca teased me and -"
"Be quiet," was the only reply I got from my mother, "and let Rebecca explain."
"Felix almost spat at me," Rebecca embellished, "and then said some very ugly things to me. I warned him I would report him but he only got worse. I almost cried when I heard it." She was a good actress when telling her tales of woe.
"But Rebecca -"
"Felix, I will not tell you again. Keep your mouth shut or you will get double. Do you understand, boy?"
So I kept quiet and felt my bottom tingle.
"You will come to my room at 3:00 oclock," my father said.
Rebecca smiled. "Excuse me, please. I have to make some telephone calls."
Then, at about a quarter to three, the doorbell rang and Alice and another friend made their appearance. I had of course expected this, but my heart sank anyway. They came to watch my punishment, their entertainment for the afternoon. And I was almost 12 years old!
So, at three oclock sharp, I appeared at my fathers study. Everybody was already there, my parents, Rebecca, Alice and another girl called Susie. They interrupted their conversation when I came in and the room fell silent. They all turned to look at me. My face burned as I stood there.
"Well, close the door and come inside, boy," my mother snapped. "Here, step onto this stool and place your hands behind your neck. Hurry up, boy!"
They were going to auction me off, I thought. Sold to the best caner. Rebecca, Alice or Susie? I knew my parents would be only too willing to sell me off to someone.
"Alice, would you do me the favour and take the boys shorts down?" my mother said and my heart almost stopped. What was this? Why this additional humiliation? I was close to tears now and hated myself for it.
"But Mother, please," I whined. "Why does Alice have to do it? I can do it by myself. I have done it many times before, you know."
"Dont be fresh, boy," my father said sharply. "You will do as youre told. You always have to argue, dont you? And then you complain because you get punished for it. Well, its your own fault. Now just stand still and let Alice proceed."
Alice, with little smile on her lips, approached and stood before me, looking me over. My un kept dark hair, my tear-stained face and running nose, my quivering lips. Then down my white shirt and tight grey shorts, my bare thighs, knees and calves, all the way to my ankle socks and slippers. She took her time, her eyes lingering on each garment and limbs. I squirmed and looked away.
When Alice finally started unbuttoning the shorts waistband, I took a step backwards and was immediately rewarded with a burning slash across my thighs. My mother had placed herself behind me, strap in hand. "Stand still," she said, giving me another one.
Slowly Alice unbuttoned my flies and pushed my shorts down my legs until they fell around my ankles. Then she took hold of my underpants and slipped those down as well. I closed my eyes as Alice stood before me, inspecting me silently. Then she walked around to my back.
"My, look at that bottom," she said. "Your tutor did that?"
When I didnt answer, I felt Mothers strap again across the backs of my thighs.
"Yes," I replied.
"Look, Rebecca. Look at those welts. They are almost black in some spots. Gosh, he must have received at least a dozen strokes. Are they all from this morning?" she asked me.
"I dont know," I said, and felt the strap again.
"Answer her," my mother admonished me.
"No. Some are probably from yesterday," I grumbled.
The strap again. "You better be polite when you answer, young, man," my mother said, slashing me again.
"So how many times were you caned this week?" Alice now wanted to know.
"I dont -" I started but when I felt the strap on my thighs, I decided to change my response. "I mean - er -" I really had to think hard, but even so I couldnt be certain. "Maybe five or six times. Im not sure."
They all laughed. "He has lost count," Rebecca giggled. "He has been naughty so often this week, Im surprised his backside is still in place."
"He has such a cute little bottom," Susie, who had been quietly watching until then, now exclaimed. "And so swollen and bruised. Do all boys get punished this severely?"
My father shook his head. "Unfortunately, some are brought up to become delinquents or worse. We are not making the same mistake. We see to it that he gets the discipline he needs. Discipline that all boys need and should get."
"Well, thank heavens Im a girl," Susie said with feeling. "I certainly wouldnt like to have my bottom thrashed until it is as wealed as that of Felix. It must have hurt terribly."
"A caning has to hurt the boy," my father said. "And hurt him very much, or it will be of no help. If a boy requires thrashing, it better be done properly. Boys are uncivilised and wild and can only be kept under control with frequent applications of the cane or strap across their lazy bottoms."
"How many will he get today?" Rebecca asked.
"I think you should be the one to decide," Felix mother said. "It was you he insulted."
"Well, considering the state of his behind, I would say you shouldnt give him more than two dozen with the senior cane." She looked expectantly at her father.
"There may very well be some blood, Alice and Susie. Two dozen with the senior cane is serious business. So if you are reluctant to see some bleeding welts across the boys behind, you better not watch."
The girls didnt move but I almost fell off the stool and my hands slipped down. "Two dozen?" I gasped. "With the senior cane? You cant! Please, Dad. Mom? Not two dozen. Its too much."
"It will teach you to talk politely to your sister, Felix," my mother explained patiently. "But we will be lenient. Carl, make it only 18 strokes but really very hard ones. Agreed?"
"But, mother -" Rebecca protested, "he -"
"Yes, I know, Rebecca, we are being too lenient. But in this case, and in view of our guests, we can, this time, be a bit soft. Felix will make up for it tomorrow."
"You dont need to worry about us," Alice said, and Susie nodded. "We are not squeamish. Susie has never seen a boy being properly thrashed before. We wanted to see how it is done."
I looked pleadingly at my father. "Please, Dad?"
"I will agree to 18 strokes but if you make a fuss, you will get the missing six strokes anyway. So behave yourself. Now get off the stool and bend over the chair. Your usual position," he added to laughter from the audience.
I bent and tightened my striped buttocks. Each stripe seemed to burn much hotter just then. I saw the girls take up their positions and my father retrieving the heavy senior cane. I had felt it before and I was terrified of its effect on my bottom.
When the first stroke fell, it was even worse than I had remembered. After three I was in tears and after six I was howling. Three more and now halfway through - I thought I couldnt take any more. My father paused for a while, waiting for me to compose myself a bit, then continued relentlessly, never wavering, always with full force. After one dozen had been completed, I was a mess and I felt my bottom was a mess as well. It was probably my imagination that made me feel blood trickling down my thighs. Even when welts bleed, the blood doesnt run. It is just like a deep scratch that heals quite quickly. But the pain!
I dont remember how I took the next six. I was writhing and sweating, bawling and roaring until I was hoarse, then only moaning out my agony. The cane whipped into my lower buttocks and upper thighs, where my father always concentrated most of the strokes, and I found my voice again and screeched and hooted like an owl.
"Lower down," I heard my mother say, as through a mist. Lower?
The last few strokes caught the inside of the thighs just below the buttocks and showed me a new meaning of pain. But then the 18 strokes were over and I relaxed, panting and whimpering across the chair.
"What a fuss he made," Susie said after she had her own composure back. "Is he going to get the extra six?" She licked her lips with anticipation.
"Yes," Rebecca agreed, "he should get them."
"What do you think, Alice?" my father asked.
"Yes, he made a great deal of noise. I think boys should be more courageous and take their medicine without crying. He deserves the six extra."
"The vote is unanimous," my mother confirmed. "He gets another six. But with the junior cane. All agreed?"
All agreed. That is, all except one, but no one asked me.