Matthew, aged 14 years and 10 months, stood in front of the full-length mirror and gave a little gasp. No, this couldnt be true.
He had had a run-in with the police a few weeks ago and had confessed to visiting a bar with is older friends. When the bar tender refuse to serve him, he became abusive, a fight ensued, and the police was called. They had brought him home and Maths parents had persuaded the police officers to leave the boy with them. They would see to it that Matthew would be properly disciplined.
The 15 strokes with a vicious, long cane had been extremely severe, some of them having drawn faint bloody lines across his firm buttocks. But that had only been the beginning.
"Matthew," his father had said, "you have behaved like a spoiled little boy. You were warned not to mix with those boys and you not only disobeyed, but also let yourself be talked into going to a bar and then starting a fight. This will not continue. If you behave like a small naught boy, you will be treated like one."
The next day they had presented him with his new wardrobe and now here he stood, wearing it. A white, short-sleeved shirt, open at the neck, was all right, but the shorts were impossible. In the first place, wearing short trousers at his age was out of the question, but it wasnt only that. It was also the fact that the trousers had an in-seam of about a centimeter and therefore had practically no legs at all. They were made of a light blue, thin cotton spandex material which fit snugly like a second skin, the middle seam in the back plunging deep into the crevice between his full buttocks. The braces were firmly sewn in place at the back and attached to large buttons on the front. Small white ankle socks and black espadrilles completed the new outfit. He would not wear this!
But his father stood close behind him, the long cane in his right hand and the boy had no choice.
"Dad," the boy croaked, "you cant make me wear this."
"Yes, I can, and I only have to call the police to get you incarcerated for a few months if you dont do as you are told. Think of yourself as an eleven-year-old child, who has behaved abominably, and you will see that your clothes fit your new role. I will have no more protests, do you understand?" He swished the cane.
Matthew nodded miserably. This was worse than the most severe caning.
" I dont have to wear this to school, do I, Dad?" he ventured hopefully, but was immediately disappointed.
"Of course, you will," his father announced firmly. "Eleven-year-olds dont choose what clothes to wear to school. His parents tell him and he will do as he is told. Period."
"But, Dad," the boy insisted once more, now desperate, "look at the cane marks high up across my thighs. All the boys - and the girls - will see them. They will laugh at my shorts and at the way I was punished. It is too humiliating. I cant do it."
"Of course you can," his father assured the boy who by now was almost weeping with the idea of having to present himself in class dressed like this. "Just keep in mind that this is the reward you get for behaving so outrageously. Now come along downstairs. I want your mother to see you."
Maths mother was busy in the kitchen when Matthew and his father appeared. She turned, spoon in hand, and inspected her son. He was not very tall and quite slender, a handsome face with large dark eyes and a mop of black hair. She eyed the strong, bare legs and nodded.
"Excellent, Matthew. You now look your age, a tall, good-looking eleven-year-old child. These clothes fit you very well. I think that in a year or two we may consider getting a pair of mid-thigh length shorts for you - if you behave, that is."
"Mum," the boy whined, "you cant be serious. Two years dressed like this? Impossible."
"Well, we will see," his mother replied. "It all depends on whether you will mature sufficiently to merit mature clothes. Today is Saturday and I am meeting Judith for lunch at the mall. You will come along and help with the packages. We leave in ten minutes."
Matthew looked at his mother wide-eyed. "Mum, why do I have to come? I cant go in these shorts. Please let me wear jeans. Please, Mum?"
"Thats enough, boy," his father interrupted, before the mother could reply. "You will accompany your mother and like it. I want you to be polite and helpful throughout. Bess, you will let me know if he misbehaves."
Accordingly, half an hour later mother and her tall son were seen at the mall waiting for Judith. Matthew stood, self-consciously plucking at the hems of his tight little shorts, red-faced and squirming with humiliation as he felt all eyes on his bare long thighs. He tried to scrunch down, bending the knees a bit to appear smaller and escape this public scrutiny, but his mother just snapped, "Dont hunch like that. Stand up straight, Matthew." And he had no choice but to stand erect, hands by the sides.
After about 5 minutes, but more like 5 hours to Matthew, Judith finally appeared and the two women greeted each other.
"Oh, by the way, I asked Jenny to join us. You dont mind?" Jenny was Judiths 18-year-old daughter.
"No, not at all. It will be fun. Jenny is such a grown-up young lady already. She just started college, didnt she?"
Matthew was squirming beside the two women. Jenny? She was going to see him dressed like a small boy? Worse than a small boy. Not even small boys wore clothes like this. Just at that moment Judith turned to him.
"And this is Matthew? My, how he has grown! And look at his cute little short. Adorable. How old is he now? Ten?" She laughed.
"Matthew, Judith asked you a question. Answer her."
The boys face was beet red by now. "I am 14," he stammered, looking at the floor.
"Look at Judith when you talk to her," his mother admonished the embarrassed boy. "And top plucking at the seat of your trousers. It is not polite."
Maths face turned a shade darker as he looked into the womans inquiring glance. "But I will soon be 15," he added lamely.
"Well, he looks strong and healthy, I must say," Judith said, giving the boy a few light slaps on his protruding, round buttocks. Matthew flinched and started to sweat. He wanted to be far, far away from here.
"Hello, Mum," they heard a bright voice call out and they turned to see Jenny approaching at a fast pace. "Sorry, Im a bit late. The traffic was terrible."
After more greetings, Jenny looked at Matthew. "Hello, Matthew," she said. "Were you caned recently?" she asked innocently but with a mischievous gleam in her eyes.
Matthew made a little noise in his throat. He turned a pleading face to his mother who ignored it.
"Yes, Matthew had to be punished," she said. "How do you know?"
Jenny chuckled. "The weals across his thighs are plain to see under his shorts which, by the way, are very attractive."
"How many did you get, Matthew?" she asked.
"I - er - umm..."
"Matthew, stop this nonsense and answer Jennys question. You are being very impolite this morning and if you dont behave I am afraid you will get another caning very soon," his mother said.
"Fifteen," he mumbled, his face almost puce. His forehead was perspiring.
"Fifteen? Thats not so bad. Ive seen boys get a lot more than that. On the bare?"
More shifting and squirming before Matthew finally brought out a strangled "yes."
Jenny stepped behind the boy and examined the dark welts more carefully. The tight braces dragged the boys shorts well up and a bit of the lower bottom cheeks were peeking out. They were deeply bruised.
"Yes, quite respectable wealing," she said, satisfied.
"When did you see boys backsides?" Judith asked her daughter with some surprise. "Who are those boys you know have been caned? And on the bare?"
"Oh, several of my friends have younger brothers. When I go to visit them, these brothers are frequently being punished, usually with their trousers down and I get to watch. It is usually the tawse or cane for those boys. Dozens and dozens of strokes. You should hear them cry out. Its fun."
"Jenny, you shouldnt think a boys punishment is for your amusement. It is to educate a naughty child. Unfortunately, thrashing seems to be the best, if not the only, way to educate boys properly." She addressed Matthews mother. "Does Matthew get the cane often? He seems such a quiet little boy."
Matthew cringed at the description. His mother nodded. "Unfortunately he has been rather difficult recently." She told her friend about the incident with the police. "So you see, a severe caning was the only possible answer. And of course he is going to wear these clothes for the foreseeable future."
"That should get him down a peg or two," Judith agreed.
"And I am afraid young Matthew is going to get another taste of the cane when I get him home," the boys mother said.
Matthew looked at her with alarm. "Why?" he croaked.
"Because you have been impolite to Judith and Jenny, always looking at your shoes when you speak to them. And you are tugging at the seat of your shorts again, despite my instructions. As you can see, Judith, the boy will not obey. So the cane has to be used."
"But Mum," the boy wailed, "these shorts are too tight and they always go up my -" He stopped. Jenny smiled at him.
"Yes, I can see why they might be uncomfortable back there. That middle seam..." She chuckled.
"Well, lets get going. I have a few things I need to get."
The three went from store to store. Judith and Jenny went to clothes stores and gave Matthew their packages to carry. His mother was looking for a kitchen chair with a straight back. Every time he heard some one laugh, or make a comment to his companion, Matthew thought they were making fun of him and wanted the ground to swallow him to hide his terrible shame.
About an hour later they were still roaming the halls while Matthew held packages in one hand and dragged a heavy chair with the other. The women were in no hurry and chatted as they walked. Matthew had to stay ahead of them to make sure he didnt dawdle and the boy imagined their eyes always on his bottom. Would this nightmare never end?
It was noon when Maths mother stopped, looked at her watch. "We should be getting back," she said. "Do you want to have lunch before?"
Mother and daughter agreed. "I know a lovely little place just a few blocks from here. They moved quickly out the mall and down the streets. Matthew stumbling with his load.
"Matthew, you will wait outside," his mother instructed her son. "Put the parcels on the chair and stand by it until we finish. And dont you dare to sit on that chair, understand?"
"Yes, Mum," the boy mumbled, throwing a quick glance at Jenny. She smiled back at him.
"His bottom is probably too tender to sit anyway," she said brightly.
So while the women enjoyed their meal, a miserable young boy exhibited himself in his childish clothes to all and sundry as they passed the restaurant. And they took their time. It was over an hour before they emerged again, talking and laughing.
"We are all going to our home," Maths mother said. "Jenny has voiced interest in watching your discipline," she said, watching the boys crestfallen expression and darkening colour of his face.
"Mum, you cant -"
"Yes, I can, Matthew. It will do you a great deal of good to have witnesses to your shame. We will try out if that chair is suitable for your future canings."
The weather was cool but sunny and they decided to walk home, always behind Matthew, who was struggling with the heavy chair and the smaller packages. He felt as if all persons passing them on the street stared at his bare legs and tightly encased bottom. He didnt dawdle, he rushed to get back home as quickly as possible, although what awaited him there did not seem that much better.
Judith, Jenny and Bess made themselves comfortable while Matthew, then assembled in the large kitchen. Matthew was instructed to unwrap the chair which was then ceremoniously placed in the center of the large, tiled floor. Judith and Jenny took up chairs and prepared to watch as Bess served them coffee.
"Matthew," his mother said after the chair had been properly placed, "go to the study and bring the long cane. Hurry up."
Deciding that to argue would only make the situation worse, he trudged off to the dreaded study, when to the cupboard and brought his instrument of discipline. Returning to the kitchen, he handed the implement to his mother.
"Now go over to Jenny and ask her politely to lower your shorts."
"Mum -" Matthew whispered, aghast. "I cant -"
But again his mother interrupted impatiently. "Do as you are told, or it will be much worse for you." She swished the cane ominously through the sill air.
"It seems a shame to have him take those cute shorts off," Jenny said. "Why not cane him first across the seat of those shorts. They are pretty thin and I doubt they will mitigate the sting much."
"Very well," Bess agreed after a moments thought. "I will give him six across the shorts. Matthew, you heard me, Bend over the back of your new chair and lets see how it fits."
It fit perfectly. The height of the straight back was just low enough so the boy had to bend right over until his head was lower than his bottom. That brought his buttocks well up and stretched the thin cloth of the short even tighter and the hems another inch or so up his behind, leaving a nice bare portion.
And this was the portion his mother decided needed the most attention. She gripped the cane firmly, raised it high above her shoulder and with the strong arm of an experienced golfer and tennis player, she delivered the first stroke. The high whistle of the rattan sliced through the silence of the kitchen, then thwacked meatily into the lower buttocks.
There was a shocked or awed moment before the women heard the boys high-pitched wail. "Wow!" exclaimed Jenny, her eyes glued to the spot where the cane had bitten deeply. She saw the crimson stripe gradually turn dark. "That was a very good stroke."
Her mother nodded. "Yes, that is how a boy is usually punished. If it doesnt hurt the boy really badly, the punishment has no effect."
Matthew checked on his knuckles and tried to control himself. It wouldnt do to be seen crying by a girl not that much older than he. The stripe burned hot across his bottom but it would get worse, he knew. He had gone through this many, many times before.
The second cut landed a bit lower, between thigh and buttock, and the bending boy exhaled with a loud gasp. "Ow!" he moaned.
"That landed on a bruise," Jenny remarked with admiration. "I dont think the little brothers of my friend get it quite that hard. I have remember to compare the next time."
"Those little brothers," her mother said with a smile, "are much younger. Of course they still need the most severe thrashings possible, but at that age a single dozen, probably with just the junior cane, will probably be sufficient, at least for a first offence. Of course, for repeats, they should get much more."
Cut number three landed across the middle of the boys bottom, over the shorts, but the boys reaction was no less. A gasp of agony was squeezed from his tight lips.
"I know boys who get caned across flannel shorts and even with pants underneath," Judith said as she watched her friend raise the cane again. "That is a waste of energy. I see your boy does not have underwear. I could tell the moment I saw him from the front."
"No," Bess said, lashing the cane low down across the shorts covered bottom, just above the hems. "Unnecessary and, as you say, it interferes with proper discipline." She swung the cane wide and applied the instrument full force across the boys buttocks.
Matthew yelped out loud this time and he was unable to keep his tears from flowing. His breathing was fast and noisy. Just two more, he thought. I have to take them without crying. I have to!
Try as he may, stroke number five was too hard and the boy could not refrain from crying out shrilly. Now the tears were flowing freely.
"Look, hes crying," Jenny exclaimed, clapping her hands in excitement. "Such a big boy and he still behaves like a silly little baby. No wonder he is still in those brief shorts. Hes a cry baby."
The words stung the boy almost as bad as the cane and the shame of them made him cry even harder, despite his efforts.
Stroke six singed his lower bare cheeks again and this time young Matthew screamed.
"Good, Bess," Judith said approvingly. "Those six strokes made an impression on the boy."
Bess lowered the cane and all three women sat and studied the tightly presented target. They saw the bare thighs tremble and the boys feet were shifting about, frantically trying to flick off the ghastly heat in the Backside.
They sat there for a few minutes and then Bess said, "And now, for another six on the bare. Matthew, get up and ask Jenny to lower your shorts down to the ankles. Now!" she underlined the order when the boy seemed to hesitate.
Matthew lowly crawled off the chair and his hands flew to his backside.
"Take your hands away this instant," his mother scolded. "Put them on top of your head and do as youre told."
With a tear-stained face and flaming, wet cheeks, he stood himself in front of the young lady. "Please take my shorts down to my ankles," he said almost inaudibly.
"Louder, boy," his mother snapped.
The boy repeated his request and Jenny slowly complied. She giggled when she unbraced the garment and noticed how tightly it was wedged between the boys bottom cheeks. She had to actually pull to get them free and push them all the way down.
"Now get back across the chair," his mother commanded.
"Oh, please, Mum," the boy now begged, "it hurts so. Please no more. Dads caning yesterday -"
"Never mind what happened yesterday. We are now talking about your behaviour today. You will now get another six and if you keep on arguing, there will be a third six, I assure you."
Defeated, the sweating youngster went back to the chair and bent over. His mother and her guest noticed that the stripes had swelled up and darkened further to purple, particularly the crease between buttocks and thighs. This area stretched as the boy bent, offering an inviting target.
"Judith, you seem to have the right idea about boys education. Why dont you administer the next six. Lets see if you can improve on mine."
"Yes, Mum," Jenny laughed. "Lets see what you can accomplish."
Matthew wept but was ignored; only his buttocks had their attention. Judith took the cane and placed herself. She gave the bare buttocks a few taps to measure the correct distance, planted her feet firmly and began.
Now Matthew howled at each stroke. His buttocks had had time to recover from the first onslaught and all the nerve endings were fully awake. Each stroke, applied with vicious force, drove the boy frantic. Judith caned the boy slowly, with measured pauses, giving the boy ample time to savour each burning, red-hot impact.
By the time it was over, Matthew was blubbering like a six-year-old.
"Get up and into the corner with you," his mother ordered and the crying boy trudged slowly towards the wall, his well-wealed and swollen backside bobbing back and forth at each painful step.
"I am afraid we have neglected Jenny," Bess said after a long silence during which they surveyed the sobbing boy. "Have you ever seen a tawse used on a naughty boy?"
"No, I have not," the girl replied as she perked up with renewed interest. "I have seen a tawse at some ones house, I think. A leather strap with two tails, isnt it?"
"Yes," Bess confirmed. "It can also have three tails but I believe a two-tailed tawse, if long and thick enough, is just about the most severe instrument after the cane. How would you like to give Matthew a couple across the legs?"
"Oh, why yes, I would like to see what effect it has."
Bess got up, went to a drawer under the table and withdrew a very thick tawse. The tails looked even thicker and quite heavy. She handed it to the girl who took it and weighed in her hand.
"Wow, this is really heavy. And those tips, they feel as if they were filled with lead."
"No, they are not. But I know that in boys reformatories they do have tawses with loaded tails. It makes quite an impression on the boys bare tails, I can assure you." And to the weeping boy in the corner she added, "Come here, Matthew. Back across the chair."
Matthew, his eyes red and swollen, his face still tear stained, looked appealingly at his mother. "Over the chair," she said, pointing.
Matthew, his shorts still around his ankles, stumbled towards the chair and once again bent over the back. His red, striped and swollen buttocks quivered with fear.
"All right, Jenny. I suggest you give him two dozen across each thigh. Then his punishment will be completed."
Jenny needed a few practice slaps before she got the hang of it. But after that, she performed like a pro. She swung the heavy tawse in a full arc and it crashed with avery loud slap against the boys strong, bare thighs. The first impact left a wide, crimson weal across the white flesh and repeated quickly on the other thigh. As the strokes accumulated on the same tender areas, with the tails whipping in between the thighs onto the tender inner parts, Matthew began his concert again. The whimpers turned to groan, then to gasps, and finally to loud cries and screams.
The boy felt as if his skin were flayed off his legs as each renewed stroke fell on ever more sore and inflamed skin, Each stroke hurt more than the previous one until the boy thought he just could not take any more. But only the first dozen had been completed by then and Bess gave the boy a few minutes to recover before signaling to Jenny to start with the second dozen.
The women watched impassively as the tawse whipped down again and again against the thighs which were changing from tomato red to bluish purple. By the time the punishment was finally over, Jenny was exhausted.
"This is hard work," she laughed as she returned the tawse whose tails were still arm. "Educating boys properly is quite a job, I see."
Judith and Bess agreed. "You cant ever let up," Bess said. "Once a boy thinks he is safe from thrashings, he will revert to his usual uncivilised self. I am afraid that Matthew will get a little something extra from his father in a few days. He is still angry at Matthews altercation with the police."
"You can never be too severe with a boy his age," Judith opined, and Bess nodded. Jennys eyes were still on the boy in the corner. She was hoping to be invited again.