The next day I sat in class worrying about the afternoon with Jack Reinhardt. I should have worried more about the present. I suddenly felt my ear gripped and being pulled to my feet.
"Hopkins, daydreaming again?" Mr. Powers stood over me, twisting my ear most painfully and I squeaked. My class mates watched with interest. "Bend over."
It was a common occurrence during lessons. I knelt on the seat and bent over the desk. I felt the masters hand grip my shorts waistband and pull them up sharply. He stepped back and then followed six sharp whacks.
"Now sit down and pay attention or youll get another eight," Mr. Powers admonished, walking back to his dais. My bottom stung and I tried to follow the lessons as I squirmed about.
"Hopkins," I heard the masters sharp voice again, "stand up and read chapter six. I want a clear reading with full understanding."
I had not read this chapter before and wondered whether I had forgotten to do the homework. I started to read.
"Stop. I want clear enunciation, not a robotic monotone. Start again."
I stumbled slowly ahead, feeling hot and sweaty.
"Come up here," Mr. Powers interrupted me after about three minutes of stuttering.
I put down the book and reluctantly went up to the dais and stood in front of Mr. Powers.
"I think it is time for those little shorts to come down," he said, reaching for the longer cane on his desk. "Over the desk, boy."
I unbuttoned my shorts and pushed them down. Not having any underwear, my bottom was bare and as I bent I presented it fully to the class. I felt a tapping and then a fiery line across my buttocks. I cried out.
Mr. Powers knew how to cane boys. Low across the buttocks and upper thighs where I would have to sit. As he caned, my cries gradually grew until they became high-pitched, shrill screams. I got the promised eight.
"Get up, pull up your shorts and get back to your seat."
The rest of the period was most uncomfortable. When the bell rang, I was about to leave the room when Mr. Powers called me back.
"Hopkins, take this note to your uncle, have him sign it and return it to me tomorrow."
I took the note and left. It was just a bit after 3:00 and I still had to walk to Mr. Reinhardts house. I searched my schoolbag for the map my uncle had drawn for me and went on my way.
As luck would have it, I lost my way. I was pretty sure I had followed the maps instructions but I couldnt find the street. I had to ask several people and realised that there was a mistake in the map. I ran the rest of the way but by the time I reached the Reinhardt house, it was almost 3:40.
Jack opened the door and looked me up and down. "You are late," he said severely. "That is not a good start, my boy. Im afraid you will have to be more punctual in the future. Very well, come on in."
He led me through a hallway into a large study.
"Put your bag on the desk and take out your books. You will sit over there and do your homework. You have one hour. If you have not finished or if you have worked poorly, you will be soundly punished, so keep that in mind as you work. Do it cleanly, correctly and without playing around. It is now 3:46. You will put your pencil down at exactly 4:46." He pointed to the clock on the mantelpiece. "Push this button and I will return to review your work." He showed me a small button by his desk.
He had me sit on a wooden stool in front of a small table and handed my my books. I selected the ones which required work for tomorrow and set to my task. But my bottom still stung and tingled and Jacks manner did not appear very comforting.
The hour was over too soon. I was checking the clock every few minutes and when I realised the hour was up, I quickly got up from my stool and dashed over to the button by his desk. Jack strode in a minute later checking his watch against the clock on the mantle. "You are late again," he snapped and his dark eyes bore into mine. "You dont seem to have any respect for time. I will teach you, but first lets have a look at your home work.
He told me to stand next to him while he sat on my stool and reviewed my lessons. His right hand turned pages while his left hand stroked the seat of my tight shorts and down my bare thighs. The tingling in my bottom increased noticeably as I stood and squirmed.
When he had finished, he stood, towering over me. I was trembling by now, wondering what would happen.
"You are a very lazy boy," he pronounced finally, putting his hands on my shoulders, "and my method of correcting lazy boys your age is to apply a good cane liberally to such boys naked buttocks. I will do so now."
I squeaked trying to say something, but he overrode me. "Silence. You will now lower your shorts, kneel on the stool and bend over your desk. Knees apart, and grasp the front legs of the desk firmly. While you are caned, you will not make any sound, you will not move hands or knees, you will call out the count immediately after the cane has landed. If you break any of these rules, you will start the count each time from number one again. Understood?"
My knees turned to rubber and I nodded.
"I cant hear you," Jack shouted.
"Yes, sir," I said.
"Then what are you waiting for? Get those shorts down."
As I drew my shorts down my bottom and thighs, I felt the weals flaming up again and tears stung my eyes.
"Please, sir," I started but he again interrupted me.
"Be quiet and get over the desk. We are not having a conversation. You are going to be punished, and punished quite severely, I might add." He picked up a long, whippy cane and smacked it lightly against my bottom as I draped myself over the desk top. "I see you have been caned recently. When was that?"
"Today at school, sir," I said, hoping this fact would earn me a remission in the caning or at least mitigate it.
"Then this caning is going to hurt even more," he said with quiet satisfaction. "I never make allowance for a boys previous punishment. In my view, each offense merits its own caning, regardless if that boys backside is covered from top to bottom with purple and black weals. He has only himself to blame. We will start. Remember the rules."
"Please, sir," I whispered, "how many am I to get?"
Jack chuckled. "That will depend on your behaviour. We have all afternoon. Now stop talking and concentrate on counting."
I lay there, bare bottom openly presented to the man behind me, and waited. I was tense all over, hardly breathing, expecting the burning sting. And he let me wait an agonisingly long time. Then, when it came, it took my breath away, it was delivered with such force.
"Ooowww!! Aaaahhh!" I howled with the pain. The cane had sliced into the marks across the lower buttocks where they were the most tender.
The cane lashed down again and I whined as my body writhed.
Again. I had now been given three ferocious strokes and the count had not even started. Another. I took a deep breath. "One, sir," I said.
"No, no, my boy," Jack said easily. "You will have to count much faster than that. As the cane bites, you call out the number. Otherwise it doesnt count, as I told you."
Another burning cut and I howled out "ONE, SIR!"
"No. Thats not good enough. You will count properly. Again."
The cane ripped into the upper thighs. I clenched my teeth to keep me from crying out and muttered, "One, sir."
"I couldnt hear that, Michael. You will have to do better. Again."
By the time I had had six burning strokes, I had finally learned to keep silent and call out the count instantly. By the time he had finished with me, I had had a full dozen and my behind was on fire.
Jack put the cane down. "Get dressed and sit down. We will now start on the reading."
I pulled up my shorts most gingerly. The flesh of my buttocks felt red hot and covered with raised welts. I groaned as I sat.
"You will listen as I read this paragraph from your school text. Then you will read it out aloud and once again silently. You will then explain what you have read and how you interpret its meaning."
We went through this routine for three paragraphs before he put the book down and picked up the cane. "You are not paying attention," he said. "Your interpretation is incomplete and half-witted. I think another six will do you good. Shorts down."
Soon I found myself in the same position as before absorbing six bruisers. But I took them better and there were no repeats.
I didnt do any better for he next three chapters . By that time I was quite exhausted and barely had enough strength to call out the count. But I got another sixer for my efforts.
When at last the three hours of lessons were over, I stood, shaking from head to foot, my bottom an inferno, replacing my text books in the school bag. As I did so, Mr. Powers note fell to the floor. I had forgotten about it. Jack picked it up and read it.
"Ah, I see your teacher believes you should be soundly thrashed for you school work today." He laughed. "I bet your uncle knows how to deal with that. Be sure to give it to him. I will ring him and encourage a sound thrashing."
I was dressed and ready to leave when Jack caught me by the ear. "Where are you going?"
"Home, sir?" It came out like a plaintive plea. My hands were on my throbbing backside.
"Not so fast," he said with an amused grin. "Cant wait to leave, eh? But we still have to settle something before you go."
"Sir?"
"You were late, remember? Coming here and doing your homework. Each merits six of the best. I think we will have to take those shorts down once more."
By the time I was ready to go, I could hardly walk and my bottom felt swollen and thrashed through. Jack gave me a loving, but very painful slap on the bottom and sent me on my way. "Till tomorrow, then," he said and closed the door.
When Uncle met me that evening, and saw me waddling awkwardly down the stairs, he asked, "And how was your first session with Mr. Reinhardt? It seems as if had felt the need to punish you, to judge from the way you walk."
When I recounted my experiences, I dont know why that should have caused him such obvious amusement. "Well, youll be back there again tomorrow, so I suggest you put your back into it. Its four times a week, you know." He chuckled as if at a joke. But is was not humorous as far as I was concerned.
Later, at supper, he looked up from his plate.
"Michael, isnt there something you want to tell me?" he asked.
"Sir?"
"Jack told me you had a note from your teacher and he warned me you might try and keep it hidden. You know the penalty for that, dont you?"
"No, no, Uncle," I exclaimed in fear. "I was going to give you the note afterwards. I promise!"
"Where is it?"
"Its in my bag. Ill go and get it."
When Uncle had read the note, he frowned. "Your teacher says you are not concentrating but daydreaming at class. He says he had to punish you for inattention and suggests I do the same when you get home. What do you say?"
I burst into tears. "Oh, please, Uncle," I sobbed, "please dont cane me again. Im still so very, very sore back there I can hardly sit down. Please dont punish me again."
"I am afraid I have no choice," Uncle said. "Your teacher says its for your own good and I should really listen to his advice. The question is how severe it should be." He relaxed in his chair and seemed to debate the question in his mind. "And there is the little matter of trying to hide the note. That by itself deserves a most harsh whipping."
"Oh, please, Uncle -" I was still crying, my tears streaming down my face.
Uncle held up a hand to silence me. "No more back talk, boy," he said sharply. "I will not cane you. I will give you 20 with the heavy tawse for your misconduct at school and 20 with the extra-heavy for your duplicity. Now stop that blubbering and go to my study. Take down your shorts and wait for me."
I got up from the hard chair and slowly trudged towards the study. Every step hurt and I didnt know how I could possibly take more punishment across it. But I really had no choice in the matter and when I had entered the room, I lowered my shorts and stood waiting. I waited almost a half-hour.
Uncle carried the two tawses when he returned. They both looked quite fearsome, both about 3 feet long and 2 inches wide, with two tails. But the one marked "XH" was only slightly longer but had much thicker tails than the one marked "H." I looked at them in alarm. I knew their effect in my inflamed skin from many previous acquaintances.
"Lie on the couch, on your back, and raise your legs until your knees touch your face. Keep the knees well spread and hold on to them tightly. If you let go at any time during your punishment, you will only prolong the operation."
I knew the position only too well. It was meant to hurt and shame me at the same time. The exposure of all my most intimate parts denoted a subservience I found deeply humiliating and the way he used the leather straps was meant to increase thus humiliation ten-fold.
He looked me over for a while as I lay there, hugging my legs behind the knees, pulling them close to my face and far apart. "Get those legs further up and spread them, more. More, I said!" By the time he was satisfied, I was deeply mortified and sweating with shame.
But I soon forgot that shame as the first lash landed squarely between the buttocks across the anus. I screamed at the intense pain. Uncle waited until I had regained control, reminded me to get the knees up and apart, then whipped the tawse into the cleft full force. The pain was indescribable, and this was the "H" tawse. I didnt want to think what the "HX" would feel like.
After ten stokes across the cleft I was hoarse with screaming. Uncle moved his position and now started on the lower buttocks and upper thighs. Each hot smack across my already mistreated skin was agony and each cut fell exactly on where the previous one had fallen so that the cumulative effect was like being flayed alive. After the second dose of ten, he put the tawse down.
"Keep that position. I will be back shortly to finish this up with the "HX." He left me alone in the room, thinking of the pain between my legs and the further pain to come. I lay there, holding my trembling legs, for what seemed an interminable period of time.
But when he finally returned, it was much too soon. My bottom and cleft were so sore, just to think of further treatment was too much.
"Now then, my boy, the last 20 for today. Why are your knees not up and apart? You will get five extra for that. I want obedience, do you hear?"
I quickly pulled up my legs further and dragged them painfully apart. I saw Uncle positioning himself at my head, eying my willy and bottom hole. "This will hurt," he assured me with a smile.
And it did, unbelievably so. Uncle aimed for the anus and between the legs, until I was roaring in anguish. Each stroke fell with great force and always landed on the same area until I couldnt take it anymore and rolled off the sofa.
"Oooh, oooh, please, Uncle, no more!" I pleaded, on the floor, hugging myself between the legs. "It hurts too much. Please, Uncle, please stop."
Uncle stood looking down at me, stroking the heavy tawse. "You will get ten extra for this act of disobedience," he said coldly. "You still had four left from the first ten so now you will get back into position this instant and take the remaining 14 strokes properly. I will not repeat myself."
I dragged myself off the floor and back onto the sofa. I assumed the required shameful position and the punishment continued. I was in a trance of flaming pain, my thoughts switching from the present punishment to the one at Mr. Reinhardts house and the one at school. The whole day seemed to have passed as one, long, prolonged punishment. But I gave in and just lay there as stroke after heavy stroke lacerated my skin. The last ten were again applied across lower buttocks and upper thighs until my entire middle was just one tower of flames.
"Get up," came the terse command as Uncle replaced the two tawses in a desk drawer. "Pull up your shorts and get ready for your bath."
As I dressed, I made one more attempt. "Please, Uncle, do I really have to back to Mr. Reinhardt? I dont need the tuition. I promise I will study very hard at school. But please dont make me go back to Mr. Reinhardt." My bottom and my crotch churned inside my close-fitting shorts.
"Four times a week, my boy," Uncle replied, amused at my funk. "No more arguments from you, young man, or Ill take you across my knee for a really sound spanking."
I crept slowly upstairs.