"If ever there was an argument regarding good cause for applying the cane to a boy's bare bottom, you would be it!"
Bradley said nothing, just pressed his nose more firmly against the cold plaster of the wall, opposite his father's desk. The 11 year-old could not argue. His dad was absolutely correct, and the little boy knew that he had finally pushed his luck too far. Once again, his school report had been disastrous, with poor marks across the board. But what had sealed his fate, was the letter enclosed from the headmaster. In it, the exasperated teacher had listed the results of the latest IQ test that the class had done. It pointed out, quite clearly, that Bradley was by far the brightest boy in the form, and there was no way that he should be coming so close to the bottom of the class. Over the last few years, all sorts of actions had been taken to try to make Bradley achieve at his potential, but so far nothing had worked. The boy had been tested for every known learning disorder, even dyslexia, and the educational psychologist had been able to find nothing wrong with the pre-teen. The conclusion reached by all the experts was that Bradley was simply bone idle. And his dad had had enough!
Bradley's daddy had never hesitated to tan his son's backside when the child was naughty. The boy was painfully familiar with a leather strap, and, shortly after his 11th birthday, he had even received his first hiding with a cane. But he only got thrashed when his behaviour was bad, as his father did not believe in beating his son if the boy was struggling with a genuine learning problem. However, the man had finally realised that firm action would have to be taken with the child. And that was why Bradley now stood, hands at his side, at attention, nose to the wall in his dad's study. As always, he had been summoned after he was already in bed, and had removed his pyjamas before reporting to his father. Naked, the little boy knew that he was in serious trouble, and his bare, white bottom twitched in anticipation of what was to come. He was a well-built little chap, slim body typical of a boy his age, who was active and sporty. His neatly trimmed light-brown hair was slightly damp from his shower earlier, and his body was starting to show the signs of an early summer tan. Except his bottom of course. Perfectly rounded, fairly small, smooth and soft - soon to be the focus of his father's efforts to get him to pull his weight at school.
"Your mother and I have always given you the benefit of the doubt, Bradley," the man was saying, "and I have always been reluctant to punish you for bad results. I was concerned that you simply were not capable of academic achievement, but I'm afraid that you have pulled the wool over our eyes for too long! Tonight I'm going to give you a hiding that you will never forget, but bear in mind, that if you still do not sort out your schoolwork, I will thrash you even more severely!"
"I'm sorry daddy. I'll do better next time, I promise," the little boy mumbled, "please give me another chance!"
"You have had enough chances, my boy. Fetch the cane."
Slowly Bradley turned around, and faced his father. He was about to make one more appeal for clemency, but one look at the man's face warned him that that would not be a good idea. Totally unconcerned about his nudity, the 11 year-old crossed the study to the cupboard, opened it, and for only the second time in his life, removed his father's junior cane. The first time that Bradley had collected the cane, he had expected it to hurt his bottom, but had been unprepared for just how painful a sound caning really was. Now, as the naked little boy carried the punishment implement back across the room, he was fully aware of how much pain it would inflict across his tender, bare backside. And Bradley knew his dad well - the man was angry, and that did not bode well for the pre-teens chances of being able to sit down comfortably after his thrashing! His bottom was in for a serious warming up! Again, familiar with the procedure, the boy crossed back to the wall and, cane in hand, resumed his former, submissive position.
Bradley stood like that, bottom cheeks clenching every now and then nervously as he thought of his coming punishment for more than half an hour. Occasionally, his dad would look up from his work and admire the physique of the growing boy. He noted that the stripes that he had whipped across the lad's bottom a couple of months before were long gone. When he had been Bradleys age, he too had not performed particularly well in school, and had landed up in the same position as his son was now, nervously waiting for a good hiding. But back then, headmasters had had more freedom, and his small bottom had been decorated with six stripes from the school cane. Not that that had made any difference to his own father, who had soundly thrashed his already bruised tail. But the overwhelming lesson had been learnt, and he put his own success down to that night, with the cane biting again and again into his sore bottom. He was reluctant to really soundly thrash Bradley, but determined to change the boys' poor attitude - even if it meant just about taking a layer of skin off his tender little bum. He got up and went to stand behind a large leather armchair,
"Come here, my boy."
With obvious reluctance, Bradley turned around and crossed the room to stand before his father. The man held out his hand, and, without lifting his head the little boy handed over the cane.
"Bend over."
Bradley was too small to be able to keep his heels on the ground when bending over the back of the chair. So he was almost upon his toes in order to assume the correct punishment position, not made any easier by his widespread feet. He bent tightly at the waist, stretched his arms out in front of him to grip the cushion of the chair and dropped his head. This position meant that his bottom was well raised and completely exposed for punishment. His many hidings meant that his dad did not have to adjust his position at all. The pre-teen knew how he was expected to present his backside for flogging.
The man gently ran a hand down first the left, then the right, cheek of his sons small bottom. The child's buttocks were smooth and soft, but when he squeezed the rounded cheeks in his strong hand he could feel the resilience of the buttocks, obtained from the boys regular running and swimming sessions. He swished the cane through the air, sensing the tension in the small body tightly bent before him. Bradley's submission to punishment was always pleasing to his father. Never once had the boy had to be held down for a hiding - he always just kept his bottom up and took his thrashings, no matter how severe. He gently traced the tip of the cane across the halfway point of the boys little bottom, then tapped it on the lower half of the child's up raised naked bum, making sure that he had his aim completely right. Then he lifted the cane up and back, paused, then slashed the stick expertly across his milky white target. As the cane snapped across his naked bottom, Bradleys whole body jerked with the sudden pain of it, and the little boy gasped.
Bradley had thought that after his first caning he would be prepared for the agony of a bare bottom thrashing with a cane, but once again he was taken by surprise by the absolutely breathtaking pain of it. But he knew the rules, and, unlike many eleven-year-old boys would have, he managed to keep his exposed feeling little bottom up, gripping the seat of the chair with white knuckles. Again the cane bit into his soft, sensitive under bottom and the reaction from the little boy was just the same. After a lengthy pause, his daddy caned him for the third time, slashing the punishment stick mercilessly across his son's backside. This was an activity that the man did not enjoy, but he was in no doubt that his actions were in the best interests of Bradley. For the 4th time he raised the cane and then brought it down vigorously across the pre-teens rounded bottom, noting how the child was starting to twist his body in an unconscious effort to move his blazing rear end out of the path of the implement of his punishment. This was already one stroke more than the last time Bradley had been caned, and the little boy instinctively knew that his daddy was not finished thrashing him yet.
The theory that the cane would be an effective sanction and way to get Bradley to change his ways and start working at school was showing signs of being correct. The little boy, still tightly bent with his throbbing bottom presented to his father was having a serious change of attitude. He was a bright boy, and realized that had he known just how painful this hiding was going to be he would have worked hard to avoid it. But he realized that his punishment was just, and as the 5th stroke snapped into his helpless cheeks, he promised himself that he would avoid being in this terrible situation again. All he had to do now was to get through this hiding! He had heard of the term "six of the best" many times before, and now that he had received five lashes, Bradley was certain that he would get another, especially knowing his dad's old fashioned nature. Six of the best was not something that Bradley had ever considered himself being on the receiving end of, and with his throbbing bottom still raised up to his father's mercy, he hoped that this would also be his last six of the best. The cane descended again and Bradley wailed with the agony of it.
The man stepped back, still holding onto the cane, and inspected the damage that he had inflicted on his son's little bottom. Gently, he rubbed the hot little cheeks and waited for Bradley to calm down. It took a couple of minutes for the writhing and sobbing to end, and when the 11 year old was still, the man spoke to him.
"I hope my message is getting through to you son,"
"It is, daddy," Bradley sobbed, "I'm sorry that I haven't been working very hard at school. This hiding has taught me my lesson!"
"I'm glad to hear it. And I know that your bottom is very sore. But I'm afraid that I'm not finished with you yet, I have decided to give you a thrashing that you will never forget!"
Bradley did not know what to say. His bottom throbbed and burned, and he didn't know how he would be able to bear even more punishment. But he recognized that six good lashes were not nearly sufficient for the years that he had messed around at school and given his parents so much to worry about. Tonight was payback time, and the naked pre-teen had no doubt that his backside would be all but skinned.
Unable to see what was going on behind him, Bradley had to go by his hearing. He heard the cane rattle as it was dropped on his dad's desk, then heard the cupboard open - the same cupboard from which he had extracted the cane in the first place. It was only when his dad crossed back to him and he felt the weight of the leather strap resting on his tender sore bottom that the eleven-year-old realized that he was going to be getting a belting. He had not felt the belt used in anger across his rear end since before his 11th birthday, but had no illusions. The cane was excruciating, but a sound thrashing with the strap had never been easy to take, especially wielded by his powerful father, and the child knew that his already bruised bottom would be in for some serious pain.
He was not disappointed. His dad lashed the leather vigorously across the boy's small bottom, ignoring the evidence of the caning and aiming at the lower, most tender part of his sons little backside. Bradley's body plunged over the chair with the familiar pain of the strap as it curved perfectly around his up raised bum. The pain of the strap was just as bad as he remembered, even worse, really, because now he was taking a leathering on an already caned bottom. But of course the boy kept his body tightly bent, bottom up, legs apart for the next stroke. After three more powerful lashes, Bradley was starting to squirm, unconsciously trying to avoid the stinging strap as it battered his scarlet tail.
"Hold still!" his father commanded angrily placing a hand on the hot little bottom until his son had settled down and was once again ready for the continuation of his hiding. When the boy was ready, the man whipped the strap down on his target again, just as hard as before. Bradley's body surged with the pain, of course, but the little boy managed to quickly resume the correct position, submissively raising his absolutely blazing backside for his father's attention. The 6th stroke from the strap snapped across his tail, and the reaction from the small pre-teen was the same. Never before in his 11 years had Bradley experienced such a sore bottom. But the boy was completely convinced that his punishment was justified. As he had done earlier, the man rubbed his son's bottom gently. Then he put both the strap and the cane back in the cupboard, before returning to the soundly beaten bending boy.
"I will leave it at that for tonight, Bradley," the man explained to the very relieved little boy. But his next words brought a little sob from the child, "but in order to keep this lesson fresh in your mind I will cane you again tomorrow, in front of your mother so that she can see that you have been properly dealt with. Collect the cane and bring it down to breakfast - straight after you have showered but before you get dressed for school. Getting your backside soundly whipped before you go to school may help you work better during the day."
As always, Bradley did not argue with his dad. He could see the logic in going to school with a freshly thrashed bottom, and also thought it was only right that his mum saw him being properly punished. He just hoped that his dad were it not get into the habit of breakfast canings!
The next morning Bradley got out of bed and went straight through to the bathroom as always. The pre-teen had a shower, paying special attention to running his hands down his tender young bottom. It was sensitive to touch, and the boy could trace each of the six cane stripes. As he dried himself, Bradley twisted his body to look at the damage to his rounded young bum. Although the effects of the strapping were difficult to make out, his caning was very evident in the blue lines that crossed his cheeks. With a sigh the eleven-year-old wrapped his bath towel around his waist and went off to his father's study to collect the dreaded cane.
Bradley's parents were waiting for him in the kitchen, sitting at the table and eating their breakfast. They both looked up as their rather sad looking little boy entered the room, wearing nothing but his towel and gingerly bearing his father's junior cane. Before either adult could speak, the pre-teen removed his towel, hung it on a chair, and, standing at attention addressed his parents,
"I just want to apologize for my behaviour all this time, mummy and daddy," the naked, humble young lad announced, "and I deserve to be severely punished."
The grown-ups nodded their heads wisely, both acknowledging the boys apology and agreeing that he deserved punishment. Bradley's dad got up and crossed to his son, holding out his hand for the cane. The boy handed the implement to his father, then followed the man into the central area of the kitchen. It was a large room, and the pre-teen knew that his dad was moving him into an area where he would best be able to swing the cane. Bradley's mother was impressed by the static nature of her little 11 year-old son. His bottom showed the results of last night's hiding in the boy's father's study, but the lad was bravely preparing himself to have that bruised young bottom further thrashed. She too was a believer in corporal punishment, but was proud of Bradley - he had never been so thoroughly whipped before, and was ready to take further caning without complaint.
"Bend over," the man ordered the boy, and as Bradley started to bend, he elaborated, "grab your ankles, and keep your feet well apart."
The picture was perfect. Bradley assumed the traditional, submissive punishment position, looking so helpless and exposed. And standing over the naked boy, completely dwarfing the already small eleven-year-old, was his large, cane wielding father. The man wasted only a few seconds tapping the boys tightly bent cheeks with the stick to get his aim, and then commenced the hiding. The cane snapped across Bradley's rounded little cheeks just as hard as it had the previous evening, the sound of the stick connecting with bare tightly bent boy flesh amplified by the acoustics in the kitchen. As he had previously, the pre-teen could not stop the natural jerking of his body as the pain of the cane bit into his tender bottom. He yelped with the agony of it, while appreciating why he had been made to hold on to his ankles. His white knuckle grip intensified as he battled the urge to leap up and protect his exposed, up raised hind quarters. There was a pause, then the cane the lashed across his small buttocks again, right in the crease between his legs and his bottom. The pre-teen squealed but kept his position. For a third time the cane was applied, this time diagonally across his poor little bum. A long pause, then the boy a heard his father's next order,
"From now on, Bradley, any evidence of slacking of effort in terms of your schoolwork will be dealt with at breakfast time, on your bare bottom, with my cane as you are bending now. Do you understand?"
"Yes daddy," the weeping boy acknowledged.
His father went back to the table, and sat down, leaving Bradley bending as he was. After pouring himself a cup of tea, he finally let the pre-teen stand up. The boy was sent upstairs to put the cane away and get dressed, then join his parents for breakfast before going off to school - hopefully with a brand new attitude, and definitely with a sore bottom.