"Hello, Clara," Sally Beecher said as she welcomed her guests. "And I guess this is your daughter?"
"Yes, Janie wanted come and meet you. Janie, this is Sally, the friend I have told you about."
The girl, about 19 or 20 years of age, shook hands with her host. "So nice to meet you," she said with a smile.
"Lets all go into the den and have some tea. I just bought some lovely biscuits , imported from Holland. You have to taste them."
"And where is Roger?" Clara asked, with a wink at Jane.
"Hes upstairs in his room, doing his schoolwork. He was given a very poor grade in maths this last term and he has to make up for it."
"I always thought him to be a very bright boy," Clara said. "What happened?"
"Laziness, mostly," Sally replied with a sigh. "Prefers stupid games with his friends. Which we had expressly forbidden."
"Well, I for one, wouldnt tolerate such behaviour," Clara said with indignation. What are you doing about it?"
"Bill gave him the cane again last night," Sally explained. "I made sure he gave it to him most severely. I am losing patience with the boy."
"How old is he now? Eleven?"
"Almost thirteen now," Sally said. "But he behaves more like a six-year-old."
"I have always said to Janie, if boys are not thoroughly whipped on a regular basis, they grow up to be vagabonds or worse. Severe punishment is the only thing they really understand. Only when their backsides are too sore to sit on, will they concentrate on their studies and obey orders," Clara stated with firm conviction.
"Can I meet Roger? Ive heard so much about him," Janie asked.
"But of course," Sally said. She got up, walked towards the stairs that led to the second floor and called, "Roger, come down here this instant. We have guests."
After a few minutes, they heard the door to an upstairs room open, followed by the trampling of feet down the stairs.
Twelve-year-old Roger appeared and stood in front of his mother and her guests. He was a willowy youngster with dark hair and eyes. He stood awkwardly fiddling with the hems of his brief shorts.
"Roger, I want you to meet my friend Clara Petrie and her daughter, Jane. Say hello."
The boy winced at his mothers tone which sounded like instructions to a small child. His face reddening, he extended his hands first to Clara and then to her daughter. "Hello," he said shyly.
Mother and daughter looked the boy over at their leisure. The shorts left the entire expanse of thigh bare and the ankle socks exposed the rest of his legs. Sturdy, slender legs with developing thigh and calf muscles.
"Turn around so we can look at you," Clara said with a chuckle.
Roger looked at his mother who nodded. "Do as youre told," she snapped.
His face turning a shade darker, he slowly presented his back to the three women, only too conscious of the tight fit of his short trousers.
"My, those shorts really are snug, arent they?" Clara exclaimed, giving the boy a slap on his bottom. "And arent those cane marks I see high up on his thighs?"
Sally nodded. "Yes, those are from last nights caning I told you about. Those marks will remain for a couple of weeks."
"They look awfully sore," Jane said, her eyes glued to the boys bare thighs. "That caning must have been very painful."
"Well, Jane, that is supposed to be the purpose when you punish a boy. The pain is the best teacher for them and, if applied frequently, will eventually show the boy how he is supposed to behave."
"And his whole bottom is striped like that?" Jane asked in awe.
"Absolutely. Roger, show her."
The boy turned to his mother in alarm. "I - I cant - " he stammered.
Sally smiled. "Drop your shorts, Roger, and no back talk, if you please. You dont want to embarrass me in front of my friends, do you?"
"But, Mum, I will be showing - I mean, I just cant -"
"Jane," Sally said, "would you mind going to the study and fetch a cane? It is just down the hall on the right. You will find a selection of canes in the cupboard. Just bring the one you like best."
Jane stood and proceeded to follow the instructions while the boy stood, his face a picture of misery and shame. "Please, Mum -" he whispered, but his mother just looked at him.
By the time Jane came back holding a cane, Roger had finally decided to obey orders and had pushed his shorts down to his ankles. He wore nothing underneath and when Sally raised his shirt tail, her guests were presented with a small boys bottom, spectacularly striped with purple-black welts from the curve at mid bottom down the the thighs. The boys face was flushed and he seemed to be sweating with humiliation.
Jane stared at the boys bare bottom for a long time before she handed the cane to Sally. Sally took it with a little laugh. "I see you picked the senior cane. Well, Roger, this is going to hurt quite a bit."
"You will cane him again?" Clara asked eagerly.
"Of course. Didnt you see how he disobeyed orders again? You cant let a boy get away with that. If he isnt punished for disobedience, he will soon get completely out of hand."
"You are quite right, Clara agreed. "No use being lax or lenient with naughty little boys."
"But his bottom is already so bruised," Jane said, her eyes back on the boys well-caned buttocks. "Can he take more?"
"Janie is so soft-hearted," her mother laughed. "She doesnt realise how tough these boys are."
"Yes," Sally said, "and their backsides can take a lot of punishment. You will see. I believe Bill gave him a dozen last night, so I will do the same. Of course with this cane, it will hurt the boy a lot more."
The red-faced boy, with his wealed buttocks exposed, listened with growing fear and embarrassment as they discussed his fate. He was close to tears and hated himself for it. He would not cry in front of these women, he promised himself.
"Roger, I suggest you bend of the back of this chair grasping the front legs firmly. Spread your legs and keep your head down. If you move out of position, you will get extra strokes. If you cry out, you will get extra strokes as well. So behave yourself and after Ttwelve cuts it will be over."
They watched as the boy positioned himself. They could see how used the boy was to assuming this posture. The striped buttocks were now presented at an angle most suitable for punishment. Sally gripped the cane firmly and raised her arm high up and back.
When the cane struck the firm flesh, its sound echoed around the room with a meaty thwack that made the boys bottom bounce at the impact. Roger grunted and murmured, "One, thank you."
After the third stroke, Roger was panting. The pain was much worse that last night, he thought. Of course the cane fell on previously marked flesh, still sore and tender, but the senior cane was hell. Each time it landed it felt like hot coals being dragged across his skin.
Three more strokes and Roger cried out in agonised pain, for which he was rewarded with 2 extra strokes.
"Only half-way through," Clara marveled, "and already he is acting up. Poor self-control, Id say. Requires more training." She took another biscuit an sipped her tea as she watched the punishment proceed.
"We try, but as you can see, he is an obstinate boy in need of daily reminders." She raised the cane and whipped it down hard across the boys lower buttocks. Roger screeched in pain and got 2 extras.
By the time the discipline was over, young Roger had absorbed 18 strokes and his backside was a mass of weals and bruises. It was swelling up as well. The boy lay across the chair back limp and trembling, waiting for permission to stand.
Jane stood. "May I touch his bottom?" she asked. "It looks so hot and swollen."
"Of course you may touch it, Sally said, giving the boys behind a tremendous slap. "See? No harm has been done to his fat little bottom." Another stinging slap followed. The boy squirmed.
Sally slowly approached the exposed boy and gingerly laid a hand on his wealed left buttock. It was hot to the touch and she could feel the raised ridges. She stroked the skin for a while, her fingers slipping in between the cheeks. Even in there the cane seemed to have left some welts.
"Was it very painful, Roger?" he asked.
"Yes," replied the boy who was now in a depth of misery rarely experienced before. Lying here, his bottom open and exposed, having a girl feel him all over was just too shaming. He could not help tears from flowing.
"Try a good slap," Sally suggested. "May do him good."
Sally hesitated a moment. She looked at the sore flesh. But she also saw a sturdy, firm boys behind and before she knew what she was doing, had given those buttocks a number of resounding smacks that made them bounce and quiver. Roger moaned, whether from pain or humiliation, was unclear.
At last he was permitted to stand up and told to stand facing the wall while the guests chatted and sipped their tea. His bottom hot and throbbing, his ego wounded, the boy, once so disobedient, was now a well-chastened and docile, wishing he would soon be allowed to dress and get back to his room.
And three hours later this was so.