Alec was very careful at school the next day. His tight-fitting shorts kept his mind concentrated on his well-thrashed backside and he was at his best behaviour. This is the effect a good whipping has on boys and, of course, is the reason for giving boys their frequent canings. They work when systematically applied.
But Alecs mind was also on the impending caning promised him for this evening. Nine strokes. He should have asked for six last night and had it done with. Now his bottom seemed just as tender as it was yesterday but had to take the additional three. It was stupid. He pulled at the seat of his hated shorts. If only he were allowed to wear long trousers. Then his canings wouldnt be half as bad. The other boys would not immediately know he had been punished. With these shorts, even the lower parts of his bottom was visible below the hems when he bent over ever so slightly, and since these portions of his bottom were practically always marked with stripes and bruises, his many floggings were public knowledge.
The same when in class. The master did not always require an offending boy to bare his bottom for the cane but it always was the case with Alec, and the ensuing humiliation at having his class mates see his freshly wealed behind was mortifying.
He was made to eat his meal in the kitchen by himself so he could "meditate" on the punishment that awaited him. The one good thing was that it was warm in the kitchen and he could thaw out his frozen legs after he returned from school. But this evening his father was late and Alec was sent back to his room to finish his homework while he waited for his father. The boy was very nervous and getting ever more so as the hours slowly passed.
Alec was dozing off at his desk when he suddenly snapped to attention. He heard heavy footfalls coming up the stairs and he knew the time had come. His heart beat faster and he anxiously pulled at the centre seam of his shorts between his buttocks. He stood.
The door opened abruptly and there stood his father. He seemed agitated and angry; not a good sign.
"Good evening, Dad," the boy managed to whisper before he was caught by the ear and dragged downstairs. "Oow, oow," he wailed all the way down. "Please, Dad."
"Not enough that have fights in school," his father raged, pulling at the boys reddening ear, "but to be told today that you failed to present your book report is the limit."
Book report? For a moment the boys mind went blank. Then he remembered. Oh, how could he have forgotten? This report had been assigned 4 weeks ago and was due several days before. He had not even finished it and had left it at home. How could he have been so stupid? Every time wanted to finish it something always interfered. And now he was going to pay for his forgetfulness. And the teacher had not mentioned it. Had the other boys handed it in? Perhaps the master had taken the report while he was with the headmaster getting one of his canings?
"I have an arrangement with Mr. Graham," his father explained, as if reading the boys mind. "He lets me know when you fail to produce the correct home assignments, or fail to hand them in on time. I told him I wanted to know before you so I could deal with you properly. How many strokes are due you today?"
"Er - nine, sir, but please -"
"That is not nearly enough in view of your remarkable carelessness with your school work."
"Please, Dad, my bottom is still -"
"Your bottom is going to be a great deal more tender, I can assure you, after I am through with you, my boy. Of that you can be sure. Take your shorts down. You will bend over the chair arm rest, face in the seat, bottom up." He pointed to a large leather chair with wide arm rests just high enough to bring the boys bottom into the right angle.
With trembling fingers young Alec unbuttoned and dropped his skimpy shorts, then draped himself over the chair as ordered. His small, striped buttocks were pointing upwards. His father meantime had produced the senior cane and slowly approached the waiting boy. His eyes surveyed the naked little buttocks, covered with fading stripes as well as still livid, swollen welts and dark bruises.
He smacked the boys bottom with the cane a few times. No, there would be no pity. It was a mistake to let your heart dictate the amount of punishment a naughty, lazy little boy merited. You had to forget previous, well-deserved whippings and simply concentrate on the present and the fault the boy had incurred. There is no room for softheartedness when dealing with boys.
The first stroke across the underbum was so hard, Alecs face was pushed deeper into the chair cushion. "Aaaaarrrrgh," the boy screamed.
"Dont make such a fuss, boy," his father snapped impatiently, "you still have 8 more to come. So keep quiet or Ill make it an even dozen."
Two more slashers and Alec could not contain his gasps and moans. His bottom was burning and all the previous welts seemed to be rising again.
The next two cuts were delivered with a vicious swing across the upper thighs, and this time Alec howled out loud.
"Very well, my boy," his father said calmly, "a dozen it is. I hope you will take the rest a bit more manfully, seeing that you think you are old enough for long trousers."
The cane descended twice more, biting deep into the lower buttocks. The boy arched his back, his legs squeezed shut and bent at the knees.
"Keep your legs still, boy, and the knees apart. I will not tell you again."
Alec was breathing hard and he felt the sweat dripping off his arm pits. Only halfway through. His bottom was hurting so badly he did not know how he would be able to stand another six.
But the mere threat of further strokes gave him enough self-control to absorb the last six strokes with nervous gasps and half-choked shrieks which he dampened into the cushion.
"Get up and into the corner with you. Hands behind your neck," his father instructed and the well-punished boy rolled off the chair, slowly straightened up, his wealed buttocks sticking out backwards most comically as he waddled into his corner.
"You will stay there until the visitors arrive," his father told the whimpering boy.
"V-v-visitors?" Alecs voice quivered.
"Yes, did you forget? Your aunt Jane and Uncle Ronald are coming with their daughters. We also asked the neighbours, Bert and Rose Hollins. They have a daughter as well, but she is 22 years old already. They should be here in an hour or so.
When the visitors arrived, they were shown into the study to meet the boy in disgrace, in the corner, shorts around his ankles, his wealed and swollen buttocks on display. Alec gave a gasp when he realised he had company. He turned and lowered his hands to protect his privacy a bit.
"Back into the corner and hands on your head, boy," his father snapped sharply. "Or do you want another dozen?"
Alec quickly tuned and positioned himself as before. He was acutely aware of all eyes on his backside. He started to cry.
Ruth, Jan and Ronalds eleven-year-old daughter, giggled. "Look," she chortled, "the boys bottom is all black and blue."
"So it is," her father, Ronald agreed. "We are told Alec misbehave and was therefore duly punished."
"Alec thinks he is too old to behave," his mother complained. "He actually dared to go out and buy a pair of long trousers without our permission. But if you had heard the report we received from his school, fighting with other boys, and other childish behaviour, you will agree that he is still a child and as such is to be kept in brief shorts, dont you agree?"
"I should think so," Aunt Jane said firmly. "Boys have to be kept tightly reined in or they will grow up wild, out of control."
"Well, I have the coffee ready," the mother finally said. "Lets to into the dining room and make ourselves comfortable. Alec, pull up your shorts and bring your hard chair. Come along, now, boy. Dont dawdle."
"But, Mum -" Alec whined.
"No arguments," his father interrupted, "or you will feel the cane again."
Glumly the boy retrieved his shorts, pulled them up, buttoned them and then adjusted the braces which pulled the shorts even tighter. He could not meet the visitors eyes but kept looking at the floor even as he went to get his highchair. He was close to tears again.
"Alec is being punished," his mother explained, "by being made to sit i this old highchair. It is meant for toddlers, of course, but we have had it adjusted so he can fit his backside into it."
The chair had a small tray in front and his mother, after having served the visitors, brought a plastic plate, cup and spoon and placed it on the tray. After a short pause for the boy to appreciate the girls giggled comments, she brought out the bib, a large, light blue bib with a large white rabbit painted on it. He placed it around Alecs neck.
"Now, Alec, dont dribble the milk like you usually do. And I will feed you the crackers. No cake for you."
The boys face was beet red by now and only by sheer force of will could he suppress his tears. His pleading expression did not move his parents but caused great amusement to his audience. His bottom on the hard wooden seat was hurting badly. He knew he looked ridiculous, like an over grown baby. As he watched the girls snicker and whisper, he at last broke down into hot tears of shame.
"Stop that sniveling this instant," his mother admonished, "or I will ask Francesca to give you a bare-bottom spanking right in front of everybody."
Francesca Hollins, the neighbours 22-year-old daughter clapped her hands and laughed. "And wouldnt that be fun?" she exclaimed.
They all seemed to be watching the boy and Alec, as self-conscious as he had ever been, he spilled his milk as his trembling hand almost dropped the cup. Several drops dribbled down onto his bib.
More laughter. "Look at the little baby," one of the girls called out excitedly, "he cant even drink properly yet."
"Well, Francesca," his mother said with a smile, "it seems you have a job." And to her son she added, "Get off the chair and ask Miss Hollins to please take your shorts down and give you a sound spanking on your bare bottom."
Alec was aghast. "But, Mum, I cant -"
"Oh yes, you can," the mother contradicted her stubborn young son. "You can and you will or I will ask your father to bring the cane."
More tears but finally Alec struggled off the chair and hesitantly approached the young woman. He struggled with the words, then swallowed hard and croaked, "Please, Miss, would you take down my shorts and - and give me a spanking."
"Alec, you are being disobedient again," his father reminded the blushing boy. "Your mother specifically said "a sound spanking on your bare bottom." Now repeat it all."
Alec was sweating again and his face wanted to explode but at last he managed to squeeze out the shaming words.
"Very well, then, my boy," Francesca agreed. "Let us go over there." She rose and took a seat on one of the stuffed chairs. "Now come and stand between my legs so I can unbutton your shorts."
The red-faced boy slowly approached and closed his eyes while Francesca slowly unbuttoned him and pushed the shorts down to the boys ankles.
"Get across my lap, boy," she said sternly, taking the boy by a shoulder and guiding him expertly across her knees.
They all glanced at the read, wealed and bruised buttocks now again fully displayed. Francesca raised her hand and brought it down with considerable force. Alec was surprised at her strength and gasped as the hand slapped the still burning cane tracks.
Francesca did a thorough job of it, her hand landing sharply first on one cheek, then on the other. Again and again, without diminishing force until the cheeks were glowing fiercely. It took about 15 minutes before she changed her target and the spanking continued unabated but now across the upper thighs. By the time she had finished, the boy was roaring unashamedly.
Now he stood, hands behind his neck, back in the corner again, as all present drank in the sight of purple buttocks and thighs marked all over with darkening weals and bruises. And listening to the boys pathetic whimpers.