I could hardly walk when my uncle dragged me by the ear from his study to the living room. Each step caused ripples of pain through my bottom and thighs and I could hardly see because of the tears that kept running down my cheeks. I was sobbing and trembling when I was paraded in front of a young man who sat comfortably in an easy chair, holding a glass.
"Well, Jack," my uncle said, pushing me forward, "here is the little brat I told you about. What do you think of him?"
Jack, a man in the late twenties or early thirties grinned as he looked me over from head to toe. I tried to control my sobs but hiccups kept racking my whole body.
"I must say, William," he said laughing, "hes not a bad-looking lad. I see he has his mothers colouring. And those flimsy little short dont leave much to the imagination, do they?" He extended a hand and stroked my thigh from the hems of my shorts down to my knees and back up again. "Nice, sturdy little body. But naughty, eh?"
My uncle twisted my ear, which he was still gripping most painfully. "Answer the gentleman, Michael."
"Yes, sir," I whispered through my hiccups.
Jack laughed again. "And you need plenty of spankings, dont you?"
My ear was pinched and pulled even more tightly, so I quickly mumbled the required "Yes, sir."
Jack took me by the hips and turned me around. I was glad, because it caused my uncle to let go of my red, flaming ear at last. Jack patted the tight seat of my shorts. "Yes, a sturdy little boy. Eleven, you said?"
"Yes. Hes been living with me now for over 5 years, ever since my brother moved away and his mother remarried. Hes been a great bother but I am gradually getting through to him. A thrashing a day, on average, is what he needs. I managed to get him into the Randall Academy for Boys just 2 years ago. They have done wonders for him."
Jack whistled. "The Randall Academy? I must say, that was good luck. For you, if not necessarily for the boy. They have a reputation for strict discipline and liberal use of severe corporal punishment. Is that still the case?"
My uncle nodded. I was getting tired of having my bottom kneaded but was afraid to move and antagonise my uncle. "They still use the same methods," my uncle said. "Parents or guardians have to sign agreements for a boy to be admitted. These contracts give the school full authorization to discipline the pupils to their hearts content."
Jack laughed once more, pinching my right cheek. "They dont go easy on this part of a boys anatomy, I take it, eh, Michael?" Another pinch.
"Yes, sir," I said dutifully.
"And not only that," my uncle added with a laugh of his own. "I have specifically added a clause to the contract, stating that Michael is to be handled with extra rigour academically and physically. The latter applying to their exercise program as well as their punishment routines. I understand that Michael normally gets a few extra strokes when undergoing punishment. They tell me that is because he is recalcitrant and obdurate. Those vices must be well flogged out of him, they say. And I agree."
"Well, he seems docile enough right now," Jack snickered as he prodded the cleft where the centre seam had made its deep entry. "When were you whipped last, my boy?" he asked as he squeezed my bottom painfully.
"Answer," my uncle snapped.
"Today, sir," I mumbled, feeling my face flame. "Just before you called."
"As you probably surmised from the way he walked into the room, his weepy face, the snotty nose," my uncle said and both men laughed.
"Id love to have a look at what his little bottom looks like," Jack said, feeling my buttocks again through the thin cloth of my shorts.
"No problem," my uncle said. "There is nothing between his shorts and his bottom." To me he added sharply, "Take your shorts down, boy, and show the gentleman what a naughty boys backside looks like after a well-deserved thrashing."
My face got even hotter with shame as I peeled my tight shorts down my thighs.
"Bend over and stick out that fat bottom of yours," my uncle ordered.
When I had obeyed, I felt Jacks hand on my bottom again. His fingers explored each of the many thick welts he found there. "Excellent, William, simply perfect. For the welts I see, he must have had more than 8 or 10 strokes."
"A round dozen," my uncle clarified. "He had been particularly naughty these days. Needed a good lesson."
"You must send him over to my place some time," Jack said, exploring my bottom all over. "I would love to give him some remedial reading lessons. I have just the remedies that work so well with slow, lazy boys."
"A good idea," my uncle said with a chuckle. "What do you say, Michael? Want to go to Mr. Reinhardts house? He was kind enough to offer you his help."
"Oh, please, sir," I whined, "I dont need more lessons. Really, I dont. My reading is very good."
"Really? That is very interesting. The Academy mentioned that your reading comprehension leaves much to be desired and I will take their word over yours. I think we will start with 4 afternoons each week, right after school. You will do your homework at Mr. Reinhardts house and then follow up with the remedial studies. Understood?"
I was close to tears. "Please, sir -"
"Do you understand?" my uncle thundered.
"Yes, sir," I whispered.
"Good, that is settled then. Jack, you will please supervise his homework and then have him go through his paces for 3 hours. If he makes no progress and if his homework is not one hundred percent correct, please do not hesitate to use your cane. For any reason. And lay on the cane hard."
"No worry," Jack grinned. "I will lace into him the way they do it at the Academy. You will see how quickly his work at school will improve. He may not be able to sit down, but he will know his school lessons, I can assure you."
All that time I had been slightly bent, my bare bottom in Jacks hands. Now, at last, with a very hard smack on the more tender lower parts of my bottom, he told me to stand.
"Pull up your shorts," Jack said. and I did so, gratefully. "Can he come tomorrow?" he asked my uncle.
"Of course. Michael, you will be there by 3:30 sharp. No excuses. School is out at 3:00 and if you hurry, you can make it in 30 minutes. I will draw you a map on how to get there. Jack, if he is late, give him six of the best."
I was buttoning up my shorts and saw Jack smile. "I will do that," he said with relish.