Although this story stands alone, you may want to read "Reluctantly Thrashing Patrick's Bottom", as some of the characters carry over, and events are refered to in this story that occue in that one! Enjoy! Tristan
The knock on the door came at about mid morning, and I was not surprised to see three of my stepson, Patricks, friends standing on the doorstep. After all, it was school holidays. Clad only in their swimming trunks, with towels around their necks, they were typical preteen boys enjoying their summer.
"Good morning, Uncle Andy," the smallest of the three, William, greeted me, his winning smile lighting up his friendly, mischievous face. His spectacles were a relatively new addition, and his mum had confided in me that the only way in which she had finally persuaded to boy to wear them was to point out that I also wore them. All three lads came from broken families – Patricks was the only one who had contact with a dad, all be it me, his step father. The others had therefore "adopted" me as their male role model too, and I made sure that I included them in camping trips and other such activities. Will, although like the others he was eleven, was small for his age. His blond hair had recently been cut, in preparation for the new term. The childs small body was compact and firm – as would be expected from an enthusiastic and very skilled Under 12 scrum half. Although Patrick was always the sensible member of the "gang", Will was the undisputed leader and spokesman. He was clutching an envelope, but as he made no effort to explain to me what it was, I assumed that it was private boy business, and didnt interfere.
"Hi Uncle Andy!" This greeting was from Jake. Unlike Will, Jake was a tall, somewhat skinny lad. His dark blond hair was in the opposite condition to the smaller boy – certainly rather long. I knew that he was in constant trouble at school – the boy had decided that he wanted his fine straight hair as long as possible so that he could develop the surfer look.
"Hi Uncle Andy!" Max was the last to greet me. Slightly shorter and more sturdy than Jake, but not much, this 11 year old was also a charming boy. Max came across as a naughty, slightly whimsical boy, but I knew that he was extraordinarily bright, and worked very hard indeed at his school work. In fact, Max was often over at my house working with Patch. His blond hair was even lighter than Wills, but slightly thicker. On our last camping trip, I had put both Will and Max over my knee for sound bare bottom spankings after I had caught them flicking matches into the bush. The spankings had been at the request of all the boys – Patch and Jake had decided that their friends silliness needed to be punished, and had persuaded Will and Max to ask me to warm their backsides. I had been unable to resist.
I was very fond of all three of the boys. Thats the beauty of having a son like Patch. His friends tended to be good lads too, and were a pleasure to have around the house. "Hi guys," I stepped aside to let them in, "Patch is outside in the swimming pool waiting for you."
The three bustled past me, dashing off to find my son, and I returned to my study to carry on with the work that I had been doing. My house was built around a courtyard with the swimming pool in the centre, and so my study led directly out to the pool. I kept the door open, and half an eye on the boys to make sure that they were okay as they splashed around for a while.
The silence gained my attention, and I turned to look out. All four boys were sitting on the edge of the pool, obviously in deep discussion about something. Patch was reading a letter with deep intent – that must have been what Will was holding. The other three looked very serious indeed. After Patch had finished reading, the conversation seemed to get even more intense. It seemed, from the boys body language, that the other three were trying to talk Patch into something, and he was earnestly explaining something to them. I was pretty sure that no trouble was brewing. These were good boys, and besides, if they had been plotting mischief, there would have been an element of giggling. No, this was clearly serious stuff. I got back on with my work.
I was startled by the light tap on my open glass door. Patch was standing there, with his three friends standing nervously behind him. "Can we come in and talk to you dad?"
Of course, I gestured to the four lads and they all came and stood in a semi circle before me. Naturally, each had taken the trouble to dry his body off before entering the house, but their hair was slightly damp.
"What is it lads? You all look very serious."
"It is, dad," Patch nodded his head thoughtfully, "do you remember the hiding that you gave me a couple of months ago for stealing from mums hand bag?"
I was surprised that the boy was talking about his thrashing so openly in front of his friends. After I had so soundly thrashed his bottom, I had put the cane away, and we had not referred to either the crime or the punishment since.
"We saw the marks on Patchs bottom, Uncle Andy," Will must have sensed my surprise, "and he told us the whole story. I looked like a really good punishment."
"Well, yes," of course I remembered, "but why are you bringing that up now, Patch? You havent been stealing again, have you?"
"No. Patch hasnt," again Will took the lead, "but we have."
"Yes, Uncle Andy," this time Max took up the story, "on the way here this morning, we wanted some sweets, so we pinched some from the shop around the corner."
I didnt know what to say. It was so out of character for these boys! "But why did you do that, boys? You know I would have got you some if youd asked!"
"I know. But we were just silly," Will again, "anyway, we got caught on the CCTV."
"And now were in real trouble," Jake added rather unnecessarily.
"What did the shopkeeper say to you boys?"
Will once again took over the story,
"He wanted to call the police, but we were really scared, especially when we remembered what Patch had told us about how that boy he saw at the courthouse was thrashed. We didnt want hidings like that. And we also didnt want our mums to find out. Theyd be so ashamed of us!" At this, the little boy dropped his head, and I saw the other two similarly embarrassed.
"So," he carried on after the pause, "we promised that wed get hidings, and come and show him the marks on our bottoms so that he could see that we had been punished. He gave us this letter."
The preteen handed me the letter that had been the centre of attention earlier. It was a simple note from the shop owner, essentially stating that the boys had twenty-four hours to get their bottoms whipped and show him the evidence, or he would charge them with shoplifting. I read the letter slowly, then handed it back to Will. I decided to say nothing, and let the boys wait in silence, nervously. If they wanted what I suspected they wanted, they would have to ask me themselves.
"Would you give us the marks, um, I mean hidings, Uncle Andy?" Max eventually blurted out, unable to bear the tension any longer.
"Yes, please, Uncle Andy," Will took the lead again, "if you caned our bottoms like you caned Patchs, then we would all be properly punished. Our mums would never know that we had stolen, the shop keeper will be satisfied and that would be the end of it!"
I had hated whipping Patch, because I loved him so much, and hated hurting him. Although I liked these three attractive little preteens a lot, I didnt feel the same about them. Their proposal might be rather enjoyable.
"Are you sure thats what you want? You know that I was a policeman, and certainly know how to give a naughty boy a hiding! You saw the bruises on Patchs bottom after his thrashing!"
"Yes, please, Uncle Andy," Will looked straight up at me, his face very serious, "especially me, because it was my idea and I persuaded the others to do it too. Also, Ive done it before, but never been caught."
"Jake?"
"Yes, please give me a hiding, Uncle Andy," the tall boy looked down at the carpet, clearly ashamed of his behaviour and being in this unpleasant position.
"Max, what about you? You sure?"
"Yes, Uncle Andy. Even if I didnt have to show the marks, I still deserve a severe hiding."
"Very well boys," I spoke softly, but firmly, "go up to Patchs bedroom and wait for me there."
As was my procedure with Patch, I let them wait. For nearly an hour, three naughty 11 year olds waited in Patchs bedroom, fearful of the coming thrashings. Patch, being the kind of child that he was, must have tried to comfort them, but his honesty, and the evidence of the whipping that they had seen previously on his bottom would have been clear. This was going to hurt their small preteen bottoms a lot! However, I had been given the distinct impression that they had thought this through carefully, and were determined to get their agonising punishment from me, rather than in a police cell.
Finally, I retrieved my junior cane, used only once, for six agonising strokes across Patchs bare bottom, and headed upstairs.
Patch must have briefed his friends well, and as I entered the boys bedroom, his three friends stood in a row before me, hands clasped behind their backs, dropping their heads, but only after snatching a furtive glance of the cane that I carried. Patch had gotten fully dressed again, but the three little criminals still wore only their tight swimming trunks.
"Shorts off," was the first thing I said, and immediately the three miscreants slipped their only protection down their slender legs and off. Without being asked, Patch collected each of the slightly wet garments and took them off to the bathroom, where he could hang them up without any risk of them wetting the carpet or any furniture. The three 11 year olds resumed their positions, hands clasped behind their backs, both Maxs and Jakes faces turning slightly red with the humiliation of exposing themselves to me. Will didnt seem in the slightest concerned with being naked before me.
"Have any of you ever had a hiding with a cane before?" I enquired, noting that Patch had slipped back into the room.
"Yes, sir," Will, of course, was the first to answer, "Ive been caned a lot of times at school. Usually just two lashes, but my worst was four."
"I have too," Jakes turn, "but only twice. And each time only one lash."
"Me too," Max owned up, "Ive been caned more than Jake, but a lot less than Will. My most is three."
"Good. So you all have an idea of how sore the cane is. But I take it youve never had it bare?"
"No, sir," Jake replied for all of them, "but the second time I got the cane, it was only one, but over my undies only."
All in all, a pretty standard report from three normal, slightly naughty 11 year old boys. None had been severely thrashed, but none were complete angels either.
"Right then. This is what Im going to do with you. Jake and Max, you will receive six each." I turned to the smallest boy, "Will, because you are the ring leader, and because you have shoplifted before, you shall receive a full dozen."
"Yes, Uncle Andy," all three nodded their heads, not for a moment even thinking about asking me to moderate their sentences. Three little boys who were willing to take their punishment from a man whom they all trusted and liked. It was only Patch who looked shocked – I think he was particularly concerned for the little bottom of William. Patch knew how painful my canings were.
"Ill start with you, Will. Ill give you your first six, then the rest of your hiding after I have dealt with the others."
"Do I have to watch them get their hidings, dad?" Patch had done as much as he felt he had to, and the gentle child had no desire to watch his friends get their bottoms whipped.
"No, my boy. In fact, all of you wait outside. Jake, when Will comes out, you will come in."
"Yes, sir," the slender boy answered as the two naked and one dressed preteens left the room, softly closing the door behind them.
I turned back to Will, to tell him how to position himself, but the little boy was already getting up onto Patchs bed. He had taken his glasses off, putting them on the side table, then knelt perfectly, widened his knees and raised his little bottom up to me. He rested his forehead on the bed, and splayed his hands out in front of his head,
"So, Patch explained to you how I like naughty boys to bend over for punishment?" I had meant the comment in an almost light-hearted way, to put the very nervous boy slightly at ease, but Will was taking this very seriously.
"We practised while we were waiting for you, sir. Patch got each of us into the right position for you, so that we wouldnt make you cross."
I nearly laughed out loud at the picture this conjured up in my head. One 11 year old boy carefully positioning his mates for his daddys cane. Instead, I gently stroked the small bottom upraised before me. Wills bottom was indeed little. His small stature made it about the size of an average nine year olds. But I knew this lad, and was well aware that he was a tough as nails, and would not thank me for going easy on him.
"Good boy," I stepped back and traced the tip of the cane slowly and lightly across my rounded target, "now this is going to hurt a lot, so try and keep still – I know you can take it."
"I can take a good hiding, sir." Wills tone was almost offended, and I chose not to say anymore, just tapping the stick against first his right, then left cheek, getting my aim. Then, in the time honoured fashion of expert caners of the bottoms of little boys, I lashed William, the stick blasting into his upraised, pale little cheeks, just as hard as I had caned Patch all those weeks ago.
The reaction from Will was similar to the reaction that I had had from my own son. I think the boy was too shocked by the initial pain to move or make a sound. The stripe quickly turned crimson, standing out fiercely across his small bottom as I waited for the mandatory thirty seconds, cane resting lightly on the preteens bum, reminding him that he was now completely "under the whip".
Again, I caned the little lads rear end, but this time there was a decided plunge from the childs body as the agony of his second stripe burnt into his tender hindquarters, so close to the first that the two lashes almost touched. I had to be careful with Will. I was going to give him six more strokes than the other boys, and his bottom was the smallest. And I was, as always, not bothering to cane him higher than just below the half way point between back and legs. The lower one canes a boys bottom, the more sensitive the little cheeks are, and I always aim at maximising the pain of a hiding without doing any more damage than necessary. Although the bending preteen hadnt made a sound, I was in no doubt that this was hurting.
After the pause, I caned Wills little buttocks again, getting the same plunge from the boys body, but still not a sound from the brave youngster. Some would have redoubled their efforts to make him scream, but I knew that his silence was his way of impressing me that he could take what he was due. The white knuckle grip that he had on the duvet and his curled toes were all the signs that I needed to understand how sore the boys bottom was. For the fourth time, the crack of my cane echoed in the room as I laid the stick with all my skill across the 11 year olds small cheeks.
The next stroke was taken by the naked child just as stoically, although I could tell now from the heaviness of his breathing that he must have been struggling to maintain his composure. I caned him again, and this time the boy actually started to wriggle slightly. I was impressed though – he knew that this first session would be limited to six, so the first part of his hiding was over. But still the brave little chap didnt move, waiting for me to allow him to get up. Looking at the damage I had done to his bottom, I was satisfied. I had managed to keep all six below half way down his rounded little cheeks, but I had left the very lowest quarter of his tender, pale bum for the next session.
"Alright, up you get Will," I spoke gently, and the naked lad struggled up, hands going immediately to his blazing bottom. I picked up his glasses and reached down, gently putting them on his face for him, so that he wouldnt have to release his bottom, which he was soothing with both hands. I was surprised to see that his cheeks were wet with tears. So he had managed to take these six vigorous lashes in silence, but hadnt been able to hold back the tears. I had been right, though. He was a little toughie. Six lashes had really hurt him, but in order to punish him properly I would have to give him another half dozen – he was a little lad desperately in need of, literally, a strong arm, and in order to retain his respect, I would really have to lay on the second half of his punishment.
"Thank you, sir," he gasped hoarsely, "that really hurt!"
"Thats the idea, my boy. Now out you go, and send in Jake. Ill give you the rest of your hiding after Ive dealt with Max."
I opened the door for him, and, hands still clutching bottom, Will slowly shuffled out. The others must have been standing right outside, because the naked figure of Jake stepped nervously in immediately, and, to my surprise, so did Patch.
"Please, Uncle Andy," Jake explained, carefully brushing his long hair out of his eyes, "I havent had many hidings, and Im not very good at them. Please can Patch help me take this one?"
"Daddy, Jakes asked me to hold his arms down so that he can take his hiding bravely without getting up."
Patch was clearly not very happy about this, but couldnt refuse to help his friend.
"Okay, boys," I answered easily, "thats fine. Bend over, Jake."
In the same practised way as Will, Jake got onto the bed on all fours, and dropped his head, raising his bottom for me. His body shape made it possible for him to not only press his face into the bed, but also drop his chest right down as well, his hands out slightly to the side and to the front of him. But in his nervousness, he had widened his knees properly, but his lower legs turned inward, so that his ankles were almost touching. I quickly sorted this out, and soon the boy was ready for his hiding. Jakes body was very different from Wills. As he was taller, he appeared a bit bigger than his friend, but his thin torso made him appear very delicate indeed. His bottom couldnt be described as chubby, but it certainly wasnt scrawny, as many thin boys bottoms are. The preteen had seen more sun than the others, and there was a clear demarcation where his back ended and his bottom started. The line from sun bronzed to pure white was clear, and just above where his buttocks separated. The cheeks themselves, in the childs tightly bent position, were clearly separated. His buttocks were thin but beautifully rounded, almost translucent in their paleness. Not as small as Wills bottom of course, but still a little boys bum, tender and sensitive, ready for whipping. Jakes long hair spread out naturally around his head as he buried his face in the duvet.
Patch was not sure what to do, so I directed him to kneel on the opposite side of the bed, knees either side of Jakes head, then lean over and rest his hands on his friends shoulders so that it would be difficult for the naked 11 year old to move his upper body. My son complied, careful that he did not kneel on Jakes out spread hair.
As I carefully lined the cane up on the upraised bottom of the boy, I caught Patchs eye. I had expected him to give me a look that would beg me to go easy on this almost delicate child, but instead he gave me a look of workman like determination. Obviously, the all the boys had decided that they wanted me to do a good job, and Patch accepted that completely. It was then that I realised that Jake had two reasons for asking Patch to be in the room with him. He not only wanted to be held down, but was painfully aware that he was considered the softest of the gang, and wanted Patch to witness him getting as soundly thrashed as the others.
Showing just as little mercy as I had with Will, I whipped the slim buttocks of the preteen, the cane cracking loudly across the naked flesh, driving its agony deep into the boys bottom. Jakes whole body, like Wills, bucked with the sudden, unexpected pain of it. But the boy made no effort to move. After the pause, I lifted the cane back again, and Patch, seeing my movement, increased the pressure slightly on his friends shoulders. But his efforts were not necessary, as, although Jake actually squealed this time he made no effort to move away from the punishing cane.
I waited, admiring the twin stripes on the boys white hindquarters. Not only was the surface area of Jakes bottom a bit more than Wills, I also was only going to give him four more, so I didnt have to have the lashes so close together. I had started the hiding well below the half way point of the boys bottom, and still had enough surface area in that sensitive area just above his legs to lay my cane on with vigour.
For the third time, I caned Jake. But this time, the plunge of his body was a lot more pronounced as the cane started to work on that really sensitive area of his lower bottom, and I think it was Patchs presence, rather than my sons strength, that kept the 11 old in his tightly bending position.
"Come on Jake," Patch leant down to his friends ear while I waited for the crying boy to settle, and whispered, "half way. You can take it! Remember, you asked for it, and you admit you deserve it!"
Jake nodded his head, sobbing quietly, and sniffed loudly as he felt me lining the cane up again gently on his poor, exposed bottom. When both boys were ready, I caned the preteen again, getting the stick to crack vigorously down, and making the punished child scream into his hands. He kept his shoulders still, but twisted his body so that his bottom moved sideways, trying to avoid the pain of the next stripe.
"Keep still," I commanded, and immediately the boy returned to the correct position, "and raise that bottom up some more for me!"
Obediently, but slowly, Jake raised his bottom up even higher, really pushing it up for me to punish, his submission to me clear. This put his slim cheeks up at the perfect angle for me to whip the cane down just above his legs, which I did, much to the naked preteens distress. But he was a sensible little boy, and realised that he had only one more to go. However, I made him wait for it.
The crying child waited for me to finish his hiding, battered, slim bottom well raised and trembling. Carefully I took aim, then whip my cane low, ensuring that I connected with the lowest point of the childs cheeks while the cane was still accelerating, to maximise the sting. Jake wailed, and struggled to get up, but Patch held him still, reminding him to wait for permission to get up. Gently now, I rubbed my hand over his hot, ridged young bottom, calming him down and soothing the immediate sting of his punishment.
When he was finally still, I allowed him to rise. The preteen leapt up, and straight into my arms, burying his face in my shirt, hanging onto his punished bottom with both hands. After comforting him, I gently let him out, and he was immediately replaced at the door by a very nervous, naked Max, who stepped into the room even before Patch had managed to get out.
"Please can Patch stay?" was the first thing that the blond 11 year old said, closing the door firmly behind him and making sure that he was between it and my son.
"Why, Max?" It was Patch who asked, "Do I need to hold you as well?"
"No," Max was nervous, but his resolve was firm, "I just want you here for moral support. Please Patch?"
"Okay," my son sighed, and stepped aside, out of the way, but still where he could watch the action.
I turned my attention to Max. Although, like the other three, he was still prepubescent, his chest was starting to develop well, as were his sturdy pale legs. The other two boys had all been swimming in Speedos, so their bodies had been uniformly tanned from the sun, but Max preferred the baggy type trunks, so, although the top half of his body was golden brown, that was pretty much where his tan line ended. As the 11 year old stepped up to Patchs bed, I noted that indeed he did have a faded Speedo tan – obviously from school swimming. But, although his small bottom was startling white, the top of his legs were very pale too.
Max had adopted a very formal approach to his punishment. Unlike the other two, he now stood, almost at attention, at the edge of the bed, waiting for my orders. His little bottom cheeks tightly clenched. This emphasised how rounded his bottom was, and I was a little surprised – his bum was smaller than I had expected it to be. I made him wait, and after a few moments, his posture relaxed a little, so I swished the cane menacingly through the air, amused to watch him instinctively clench his buttocks again. Reaching down, I gently patted the preteens naked bum, easily covering both cheeks with one big hand,
"Bend over, young man."
Quickly, mechanically, Max assumed the correct position on the bed, legs well apart, bottom pushed up for thrashing. Both Will and Jake and reached out with their hands and clenched the duvet, but Max folded his arms and rested his forehead on them. Although all three boys had, of course, been stark naked for their punishments, Max appeared the most vulnerable, his bare white bottom impossibly tender as I lined the cane up on it, preparing to give the boy his first ever really sound hiding.
For the third time that day, I lashed the cane across a bare, upraised 11 year old bottom, giving the boy the opening lash of a richly deserved, but still excruciating, hiding. Max gasped with the shock and agony of it, but managed to keep almost completely still, his small cheeks lighting up with the fire of the agonising stripe that I had just laid across them.
After I had followed the stroke through, I lifted the stick and waited the usual thirty seconds, before carefully lining it up again on the lower half of the boys rounded little bottom, then thrashed the child hard again, driving the lesson deep into his exposed young cheeks. This time, I heard the muffled wail from the boy as he registered the pain, but still he keep almost completely still.
For a third time I caned the helplessly exposed and tightly bent 11 year old, noting his tearful gasp of pain – a sign that, although Max was taking his hiding very well, I was doing an excellent job, and the child was truly suffering under my whip. Like Jake, this preteen had started to move his lower body slightly, swaying his bottom from side to side in an unconscious effort to move his raw, bare cheeks from the direct flight path of my cane, or perhaps wiggle out the agony of his thrashing somehow.
"Keep your bottom still and up for me, please Max,"
"Yes, sir," the boy sobbed, immediately presenting his blazing young tail properly, almost enthusiastically to me, "sorry Uncle Andy – its just more sore than I expected."
I ignored Maxs words, carefully lining the cane up again, good and low, then paused, before whipping it into my small preteen target again. The child almost bounced on the bed, the pain across his bottom was so great, but, despite another tearful exclamation of pain, he kept still, even remembering not to sway his body.
"Good boy," I murmured, complimenting the crying boy on his self control, "just two more."
Max sniffed quietly, and I lined the stick up again, ready to thrash the next stroke into the child. I caned him hard, of course, the sound of the stick most satisfactory as it connected at high velocity with the 11 year olds bottom, snapping with expert precision equally across both cheeks. My years administering judicial hidings had taught me how to avoid the common error of caning little bottoms. I always used the end of the cane, so that the lad would feel the full force of the stroke, and the tip of the stick would not wrap around his hips. All pain had to be focused on the bottom of the boy being whipped.
I dont think Max was enjoying my skill at giving little boys hidings, but the effect was as I wanted it to be – a blindingly painful lesson in honesty. Max was learning that lesson, as had Will and Jake. As I lashed Max for the sixth time, I thought for a moment of the smallest of the boys, standing outside the room, probably still clutching his little bottom, aching from his first six. And knowing that it was only moments now before he would be back on the bed, bottom up and getting thrashed some more.
Unlike Jake, Max did not try to move, even although his hiding was over, and the temptation must have been enormous for him to leap up and rub his fiery little cheeks. Instead, I followed the same procedure as I had with the taller preteen, rubbing the childs corrugated backside gently, enjoying the feel of the cane ridges rising off the soft, hot bottom.
"Up you get, Max," I stepped back, and as the boy slowly got off the bed, hands going straight to his bottom, "you took that well, my boy. I hope you learnt a lesson."
"Yes, Uncle Andy," the boys face was red and wet, but he still surprised me by holding out his hand (the other stayed very much clutching and rubbing his behind!) and giving me a firm handshake, "thank you for punishing me – I hope that I dont ever need a hiding like that again, but if I do I hope youre the one who gives it to me."
I opened the door, but instead of ushering Max and Patch out, I summoned the other two bottom rubbing preteens into the room, closing the door behind them. I turned to face the four boys. Patchs face still reflected the seriousness of how he was taking this punishment of his friends. The three naked small boys were almost funny in their appearance. Each was clutching his bare little bottom firmly, tears (expect for Max, who had just finished getting his hiding) almost dried, but looking very morose and sorry for themselves.
"Turn around, boys," I ordered, "and put your hands on your heads."
The three 11 year olds did as they were told, turning so that I could inspect the damage to their beaten young bottoms. There was no real injuries, just the typical six, red but starting to turn to multicoloured bruises, stripes that always characterised good hidings with a cane. Will little bum showed stripes that were far closer together than he friends stripes, of course, because I had left the lower quarter of his bottom for the rest of his thrashing.
"Alright, turn around again," the three children turned back to me, and resumed the rubbing of sore bottoms, "you took your hidings well, and your bottoms are nicely bruised. I think the lesson had got into your heads."
"Yes Uncle Andy,"
"But now Will has to get the second half of his hiding. As you know, Will, Im doubling your punishment because you led the others into this, and because youve done it before."
The little blond boy dropped his head, but nodded his understanding and acceptance,
"Now I know that you could have kept your previous exploits a secret, and I may not have found out. But I do think that youre the one boy here who needs to have his bottom the most soundly whipped, so that you dont give into the temptation of stealing again,"
"Yes, Uncle Andy," the boy lifted his head and look straight up at me, "I deserve this hiding."
"Also, youre the seem to be the leader of this band of boys, so theyre going to watch you lead by example, by taking the next six strokes of your hiding as bravely as you took the first half dozen," I was boosting the boys confidence, while giving him an incentive for keeping his head down and bottom up while I gave him an experience of pain across his little rear end the likes of he had never had before.
"Yes, sir," he almost whispered.
"Give your glasses to Patch, then bend over."
Slowly, the naked little 11 year old handed released his bottom, took off his spectacles and handed them over to my own son. Then, with no more hesitation, he climbed onto the bed, bending his body as he had last time, raising his small, bruised bottom up, and getting a good grip of the duvet with his hands.
Without being told, the other three moved to the wall, keeping well out of the way, giving me room to swing the cane, while still having a good view of the proceedings. The atmosphere in the room had become very serious indeed, all attention focused on the upraised little cheeks of William, and my cane resting gently just below the lowest stripe from the previous hiding. All of the spectators recognised that this thrashing would be concentrated on that small patch of unwhipped flesh just above Wills trembling legs – and the boys knew that this would make the punishment excruciating.
I showed no mercy, however. I caned the bending little boys bottom just as vigorously as I had laid the cane on each and every time in this room. Hard, and very skilfully. Each boy winced as the cane cracked loudly across their friends small rump and Wills squeal could be heard clearly, even although he had buried his face in the bed clothes. His body surged, and his toes curled, fingers clenching and unclenching as he grabbed a handful of the duvet. A recently caned bottom is always very sensitive, even on the parts that have not actually had the cane landing on them, and Will was discovering this. He would find this six a lot more painful than the first set.
Lifting the cane, I waited for the boy to keep completely still, then gently lined that stick up again, just below the most recent stripe, so that Will would be ready for it. Then I caned the 11 year old again, getting an almost identical reaction from the tightly bending little preteen.
As soon as I lashed William for the third time, he almost rose out of position, crying out loudly for the first time. I was sad that I appeared to have finally broken the pride of this likeable little chap, but the punishment had to be given in full.
"Would you like Patch or one of the others to hold you, my boy?"
"No!" Will gasped. So his spirit of strength was still there. Good. "I can take my hiding – please just wait a little longer between each one so my bottom can get used to the pain, Uncle Andy!"
I had already being giving the boy at least thirty seconds, as I always did, but I agreed to comply to the lads request, and waited for over a minute before blazing the stick across his battered little cheeks for the fourth time. Again, Will sobbed out loud, and wiggled slightly, but was soon still. He had two more to go, and I was relieved that he seemed to have the inner strength and determination to see his punishment through bravely.
After a long pause, I gently lined up the cane, then drove it firmly into the boys small tail, now only millimetres above his legs, thrashing the child no less vigorously than I had earlier. Wills knees came up off the bed, and bounced down again, while the child hissed loudly with the pain.
"Just one more," I head him gasp softly to himself.
There was one, cane width, strip of unwhipped flesh above the boys legs, and it was into this part of the 11 year olds bottom that I aimed the final lash, accurately giving him what was probably the worst stroke of his hiding. The childs reaction was the same as the first stroke, and, as he had last time, he made no effort to move even although he knew that his hiding was finally over.
I placed a hand on his hot bottom, waiting for the boy to calm down and keep completely still.
"Okay, Will. Up you get."
William slowly got off the bed, crying quietly. It was only after he was on his feet that he tentatively reached behind him with one hand, and with the other put the glasses that Patch held out. When he had perched his spectacles back on his nose, he looked around at his friends,
"Sorry guys," he said softly to them, "for getting you into this."
Then, again to my surprise, like Jake he buried his face in my shirt briefly, and I gave the lad a quick hug, then he pulled away,
"Thank you, Uncle Andy. I deserved that."
I patted the lad on his head, and then advised the boys, getting a return of their cheeky smiles, to go get into the swimming pool to sooth their burning bottoms. They didnt need a second invitation, and, not even bothering to get dressed again, I had three naked, bruised bottomed lads frolicking in the pool – every now and again checking out each others injuries. I would take then down to the shop later to show off the evidence of their punishment to the initial victim of their stealing.