For a fraction of a second I just felt the impact that made my buttocks bounce. Then the hot sting suddenly flooded the area and I cried out. The leather tails had swept over both cheeks and the knots bit into my left flank. But I could also feel only two well the hot band across the buttocks.
After the third stroke, my body began to sway. With 7 tails, this meant that I probably had 21 livid welts across my bottom and each new stroke fell most painfully over an already striped area. My cries became louder and I started to roll back and forth, using my knees as a steering wheel.
"Lie still, boy," Uncle Stefan growled, raising the martinet, "and keep those knees apart unless you want a double dose."
Three more strokes all directed at the lower parts of the buttocks and the upper few inches of the thighs. Again the tips of the tails reached around the thighs and whipped the inside.
Three more, aimed in such a way the the knotted ends landed in the cleft, just below the testicles into the perineum. I howled with the pain and rolled over to one side, clamping my thighs together in agony. Stefan watched for a moment. When I stopped screaming and returned to the prescribed position, he said, "Very well, we will start from the beginning."
"Oh, Uncle, please - I mean, please, sir, no more. It hurts so dreadfully." I admit I felt no shame at this moment to be pleading like a baby. My bottom was hurting so badly in those sensitive parts that I didnt care how childish I sounded. I just wanted the pain to stop.
"You will get your ten strokes and take them properly," Stefan said. "Otherwise, it will go badly for your buttocks."
He whipped the martinet down full force and this time he had aimed directly at my anus where several of the 7 knots landed with a biting thud. I screamed again but managed to keep my knees open. Another 2 on the same spot and I was blubbering, fully out of control.
Then came a new onslaught across the lower buttocks which by now felt flayed and tender. I counted 4 or 5 and even though there were more than 10 seconds interval between each, they seemed to have lashed all at the same time all over the buttocks and thighs, between buttocks and thighs. I was sure these areas must be bleeding by now.
"Very well, boy, you may get up. This was the first dose of 10 for your poor homework. Now we will take up the cleaning of your room. Go and bring the broom and dust pan. You will sweep and dust until your floor and all surfaces sparkle and shine. If I am satisfied with the results, you will return broom and dust pan and get back into position on the bed."
I could hardly walk but rushed to obey. He sat and watched me for a while as I limped about the room, legs wide apart, waddling like a big duck with a deep red backside. After he had left, I was afraid to stop and so swept for a long time, then took a dust cloth and wiped every surface I could think of. Then I did it all over again.
It was almost a full hour before Stefan came back. He looked about the room, checked the drawers and closet, looked under the bed, ran a finger across the top of picture frames and the lamp shade. He checked the book shelf, the bed and all the stuff that had accumulated on the shelves.
"Half-hearted effort," he finally decided. "Get on the bed and kneel, head down, behind well up. Knees apart." It was only then that I noticed what he held in his hand. It was the thick leather paddle with which he had spanked me ever since I could remember. It had a six-inch handle and the paddle itself large and round with holes drilled into the entire surface. The leather was at least a half-inch thick. This thing could really make you smart as each stroke lands every time on the same spot until the skin glows red-hot.
"You will get 10 with this, on each cheek, and consider yourself lucky that I didnt double it for this new dereliction in your cleaning duties. If you move, you will oblige me to start all over as I did the first time."
I raised my spread bottom as far up as I could, the knees as far apart as possible and my head down with my face buried deeply in the pillow. I trembled as I waited for the first blow to fall across my throbbing backside.
Uncle stood to my left and let fly. A loud crack like a pistol shot rang through the room. The thick leather landed on my left cheek, low down, lifting the buttock sharply with the impact. My forearms were planted firmly on the bed near my head and served as stabilisers to keep me from falling over. Even so my body swayed as the thick leather crash-landed on my buttock.
Each following stroke was similar in force and location, only the pain increased drastically. I managed to absorb the first 10 strokes without much movement although I could feel my bottom writhing and swaying. Since Stefan didnt say anything, I assumed these movements went undetected.
Uncle then stepped over to my right side and started all over again with my right cheek. As he whipped me with undiminished strength, I felt my bottom begin to swell. It jumped and twisted about in pain, but the strokes kept coming with what seemed ever increasing force.
I was blubbering like a baby once again when he finally counted out number 20.
"Get up," he ordered and I managed to struggle off the bed with some difficulty. My bottom felt thickly wealed and swollen, red-hot and in flames as it throbbed throughout my body. I did not exist except for my well-whipped buttocks. No matter how much I longed to touch and stroke my injured bottom, I knew I wasnt allowed, so I kept my hands by my sides, shaking with sobs while Uncle watched in silence.
"I believe I told you very clearly not to move during the punishment," he finally said. "Yet you disobeyed all through each of the installments. You rolled back and forth, your bottom twitched and shook, your body swayed and bent. This is not what I would call obedience. I have therefore decided that it would be best for you if I gave you further 8 strokes with the cane. For these you will bend over, touching your toes and keeping your knees perfectly straight. If I see so much as a tremble or you bend your knees ever so slightly, I will add 2 extra strokes each time. You will not have the benefit of support this time so I suggest you control yourself and remain in position throughout."
I let out gasp of horror upon hearing these alarming words but bent quickly as instructed. Bending made the skin of my bottom tighten, which is of course the purpose of bending, but it made my swollen buttocks want to burst from under the tight skin. Again I waited while my uncle went to retrieve one of his canes. I couldnt see which one he had selected but when I felt the first cut, I was convinced that it must have been the senior cane, the pain was so intensely hot.
Eight strokes with the senior cane is a major punishment all on their own, but coming on top of 2 previous thrashings was hardly bearable. As I concentrated as much as possible on staying in position, I roared with pain after each one. Stefan waited until I had regained some semblance of self-control and then resumed dispassionately caning my swollen behind.
I almost collapsed when the last stroke sliced into the upper thighs and it was just with the utmost effort that I could remain bending and keep my knees straight. Of course the fear of additional strokes helped.
I heard Uncle return the cane to the cupboard and sit behind his desk. The blood was rushing to my head and after such a long time (as it seemed to me) I began to get so dizzy I was afraid I would faint. Would he cane me again for fainting? Fortunately I did not have to find out. He allowed me to stand after a few more minutes and I didnt faint.
"Put your shorts back on and get back to work. You will do your home work again, this time carefully and correctly. You will rewrite the essay in your best handwriting and you will do 10 additional maths problems which I will review. Do not think I will let you off further punishment for any mistakes just because you have been soundly thrashed. On the contrary. Boys with sore behinds should be even more careful not to transgress anew knowing they will get more if they do."
With tears still flowing, I sat gingerly on the hard bench and started to work. The throbbing pain did not help my concentration and it took me many hours before I passed Uncles review. He smacked me repeatedly on my bare thighs with the leather paddle as he remarked on my handwriting, a spelling error or my not sitting still, but otherwise I escaped additional whippings.
I guess you will not be surprised when I tell you that I slept on my stomach that night.