Joseph - Part 1


by Juan Santiago <Paliza3000@yahoo.com>

Mrs. Burton opened the door, trying to stay away from the cold blast of wind that tried to squeeze itself past her.

"Ah, there you are, Dr. Spaeter. I was wondering where you were off to. And who, pray is this?"

The middle-aged housekeeper, neatly dressed in a long, black dress protected by a spotless white apron, pointed a finger at the disreputable little figure trying to hide behind the looming one of Dr. Spaeter.

"Lets first get out of this wind, shall we?" the doctor said with a smile and propelled a small boy into the house. He followed and the housekeeper quickly slammed the door shut.

"Here, let me take your hat and coat," she said. Dr. Spaeter handed her these garments as well, as his scarf and gloves. Then turned to the shivering boy.

"Take your cap off," he said sharply, "and your jacket. I know you dont have any manners but this will soon change. Mrs. Burton, this is my new charge, fresh from the orphanage. I am told he is incorrigible but I dont believe that. No boy is incorrigible. It is just a question of knowing how to handle them."

Mrs. Burton looked down at the boy, her nose quivering. "When did he last have a bath?" she inquired. "He smells."

Dr. Spaeter laughed. "Last night, I made sure of that. Its the clothes. We will have to throw those away and supply him with something new."

"Well, whats your name, boy?"

The boys face, pale and narrow, turned toward the woman. He had large dark eyes, the long lashes giving him a soft expression, belied just now by the angry twist of his lips. He remained silent, twisting his woolen cap between his fingers.

"Cat got your tongue, boy?" the housekeeper said, her face turning red. "I expect and answer when I ask a question."

When still no reply seemed to be forthcoming, Dr. Spaeter cuffed the boy on the back of his head. "Answer Mrs. Burton, Joseph, or she will be even harder on you."

"You just told her," the boy growled.

Dr. Spaeter shook his head. "You see, Mrs. Burton, we have our work cut out for us. He is an obstinate little devil, all right. Do you think you can handle him?"

"I have handled boys his age before, Dr. Spaeter," she said with a grim smile. "How old is he anyway?"

"I am told he is around ten or eleven," the doctor replied. "They dont have his birth certificate at the orphanage but hes been there for over eight years and he had seemed about 2 or 3 at the time. He was undernourished at the time so he may have appeared younger than he really was. But he is certainly not older than eleven."

"A hardened little bugger, though, already at this tender age. What a shame."

"I am hoping that we can remedy this," the doctor said easily. "Its just a matter of patience. Please take the rascal and give him another bath. You might as well burn these rags; I will go and get something more adequate for him to wear."

It was later in the afternoon when a completely naked little boy, now clean and smelling of soap, stood before his new guardian. He looked very ill at easy and held both hands in front of him.

"Did he behave himself?" the doctor asked the housekeeper who held the child by the scruff of his neck.

"Turn around, Joseph, and show the doctor your backside," was all she said in reply, turning the boy by the shoulder.

Dr. Spaeter laughed when he saw the very red imprints on the boys bare buttocks. "I see you have taken charge," he chuckled. "Well done." Then, turning to the boy who was glaring angrily at both of them, he added, "Joseph, you will have to learn to do as Mrs. Burton says or you will be punished again."

The doctor now produced a number of parcels he hand brought with him upon his return earlier. He carefully unwrapped each and noticed with amusement the boys eager attention as to what he might produce.

The first item was a very thick, heavy tawse, with two tails, made of dark brown leather. "This is for your use, Mrs. Burton," he said. "Next time you need not hurt your hand during a spanking. This tawse will do very nicely across his bare behind. Use it often, Mrs. Burton. Use it often. The boy will thank you."

Joseph looked uncomprehending but uncomfortable. Whatever this was, it did not looked like a toy.

Next the doctor unwrapped some clothes.

"Here, Joseph, I have bought some new things for you to wear. Put them on now and I do not want to hear any arguments or Mrs. Burton will try out the new tawse on you right away. Break it in, you might say, and break you in at the same time."

He handed the boy a white, short-sleeved sport shirt, with collar and breast pocket. "Here, put it on."

The boy reached for it eagerly. He had never had a new piece of clothing in his life. They had all been hand-me-downs, worn threadbare and ill-fitting. He quickly slipped it on but was visibly disappointed when it did not reach far enough to sufficiently hide his front.

"How about some pants?" he grumbled.

The doctor handed him a pair of dark blue serge shorts. "We will discuss your manners later, Joseph. For the moment, I suggest you keep your mouth shut. For your own sake and that of your bottom," the doctor said mildly.

The boy wriggled into the shorts. "Theyre too tight," he muttered as he struggled to close the buttons. When he finished dressing, he stood and tugged at the shorts legs. "Theyre too short," he added.

"Here, put on the socks and sandals. While you are indoors, you will wear these. I have some shoes for outdoors.

"Hey, what about some underpants," the boy suddenly seemed to have realised that the cloth of his shorts itched against his bare skin.

"No need for that," the doctor replied placidly. "The fewer garments, the better."

"But its cold!" the boy exclaimed, his lower lip once more pouting angrily.

"Dont worry, my boy," the doctor said patiently. "Mrs. Burton will do her best to keep you well warmed up. And here -" he unwrapped the last parcel, " - is what I will use on you in the future."

He displayed a long, whippy cane to the astonished boy. This he recognised. He had seen and felt it often enough at the orphanage, as had all the boys there. "You are going to beat me with this?" he almost shouted.

"The doctor will most certainly use this on you until you have learned some manners. The first thing you should remember is that you will call him "sir" and you will address me as "Maam." Is that understood? If you forget, these two instruments of education will be in constant action. So be warned."

The boy stood, still pulling at the hems of his shorts, his face dark with apprehension and anger. "I might as well have stayed at the orphanage," he grumbled. "I thought I would get some nice, rich parents."

Dr. Spaeter laughed good-naturedly. "My dear boy, you have no idea how nice we can be. As good parents, we will never overlook even the smallest transgression of our rules and regulations which, by the way, you will memorise tomorrow, learn by heart so you can recite them by number. instantly, upon orders. You will feel this cane and this tawse whenever you do or say something we dont like. You will be thrashed and thrashed again until you are as supple as a well-laundered handkerchief. You will jump at any order we give you, you will study for hours to obtain the 100 percent grade I require in all subjects. You will become the most polite, well-mannered and obedient little boy the world has ever known. And do you know why? I will tell you. Because if you dont, you will never be able to sit down comfortably. Your backside will always be sore and bruised because you will be caned or tawsed relentlessly until we see great improvement. Is that not so, Mrs. Burton?"

"Yes, indeed. Small boys like you, Joseph, have to be brought up with firm discipline. This has always been so and should never have been abandoned. Young boys are uncivilised little brutes and unless their backsides are soundly thrashed on a regular basis, they will become nothing more than drunkards, thieves or worse. So we, like any good parent, will not spare punishment to get you onto the right road. You will be surprised at how far you will go in the next three or four years. And all thanks to our cane and tawse across your bare behind. So be grateful for all the effort we plan to make on your behalf."


More stories by Juan Santiago