There was no lunch for me that day. "Lazy boys dont sit down with us a the table," my father explained. "You will be eating in the kitchen but for your idle behaviour this morning, I think you can do without lunch. Instead, while we have our meal, you will start cleaning out the small cabin at the end of the yard. I want it clean and tidy by 3 oclock. James and Robert will inspect it later and woe betide you if they find the slightest speck of dust in there."
So I worked several hours while my stomach growled with hunger. The shed was dark and cold but my efforts at making order in all this jumble of old, discarded crates and objects, soon made me sweat.
I had checked and rechecked the space in the shed and thought I had done a pretty good job when James and Robert came. "I cleaned it all," I said hopefully. "I made order and swept the floor, dusted the shelves, The rest is rubbish that needs to be thrown away." I looked at the two boys expectantly.
But it wasnt long before they came with one objection or criticism after another. James found dirt in a corner while Robert thought too many articles were cluttering up most of the available space. I sputtered some weak protests as James took me by an ear and dragged me back to the house. "Just wait until we tell Father," James said, twisting my ear. Robert giggled.
Dr. Harris, that is my new father, was in his study reading. He looked up when we came in.
"Well, boys," he addressed his sons, "was Patrick obedient and did as he was told?"
"Im afraid not," James said, pinching my ear. "The place is a mess."
"No, it isnt!" I cried out at the injustice. "I worked for hours to get everything right. Its not fair!"
My new father looked at me with cold eyes. "I see you are not only a most disobedient child but also quite obdurate. We will have to drive this out of you. Robert, bring the cane. Patrick, take down your shorts and bend over. Six to begin with, I think."
James let go of my ear so I could push my shorts down to the ankles and bend as instructed. I was crying with frustration and anger at this second caning in one day. And with my bottom still so sore! But there was nothing else to do, so I waited with bared bottom for my father to punish me yet once again.
My father took the cane from Roberts hand and approached me. "I do not allow disobedience in this house," he said, tapping the cane against my wealed buttocks, "and I will cane you until you learn obedience. Six strokes."
Bending while taking those ferocious strokes proved impossible at first and earned me additional cuts, but as the pain continued, I gradually managed to control my body and remained steady on my feet, well bent, knees straight as my father kept insisting.
"Get up, get dressed and back into the shed. You will stay there until James is satisfied with the results. I suggest you obey this time. A third caning today will be quite painful and I would not advise it."
It was dark before James finally came to fetch me.
"I could tell my father that Im not satisfied with your work," James told me, grabbing my ear and pinching it painfully. "That would ensure you got at least another six. Would you like that?"
My buttocks, covered with still burning weals, twitched in fear. "No," I said in a shaky voice.
James smirked. "Maybe I should give you a few myself? Say 10 with that lovely tawse my father has?"
"Please, James," I begged, "no more today. Im so sore already." I burst into tears.
He twisted my ear a bit more and laughed. "Come with me."
He dragged me back to the house and into his fathers study. "Father, I need the tawse," he said lightly, releasing my burning ear. "May I borrow it?"
My "father" looked at me for a long while with a stern expression. "So, Patrick, it seems to still havent learned your lesson. The tawse will be good for you. Its in the bottom drawer of that cupboard. How many is he getting, James?"
"I told him 10," James said, extracting a thick piece of leather from the drawer and flicking it through the air to get it uncoiled. I saw that it had two tails.
"On each cheek, I hope," my father said, looking at my shorts.
"Oh, yes, of course. Ten on each side. Come along now, Patrick. Lets go upstairs."
"Why dont you punish the child here and now?" Dr. Harris, I mean, father, said. "I might give you a few pointers on how a boy should be punished."
James laughed. "You gave me enough pointers when I was his age," he said with a comical smack on his own bottom. "And Robert is still getting them. But all right, well stay here. Patrick, which are you standing there looking stupid? Arent you supposed to have those shorts down by now?"
I had not been able to stop crying all that time and now quickly pushed down my shorts and dutifully bent over once again. James stood behind me, measuring the distance.
I held my breath and waited. After a long pause, the two thick tails crashed down across my left buttock. A sound as loud as a pistol shot reverberated through the room and my whole body shook with the impact. Half a second later by entire left bottom cheek was in flames. I shot up and clutched my bottom bawling loudly.
"Back into position, boy," my father snapped. "James, that stroke doesnt count. Repeat it and place it lower, so the tips curl into the inside of the thigh. Teach the boy to stay in position." James followed these instructions to the letter and I howled.
After 3 more strokes on my left cheek, I was heaving back and forth, trying to stay in place. Each time the leather connected with my wealed flesh, a shudder went through my body and I swayed.
"Give him a few across the thighs," my father suggested. "Boys dont like that, do they?"
"They certainly dont," James chuckled. "Funny, you wish the strokes landed some place other than the buttocks, then, when they cut across the thighs, you wish they returned to the bottom. Either way, this tawse can be quite effective."
He gave me 3 strokes across the left thigh and my vision blurred with the agonisingly hot pain. Several more followed with the tips stinging between my legs. I was sweating and shaking by the time the 10 strokes had been given.
"And now a little pause," my father said. "Let him feel the sting before proceeding to his right side."
I was made to stand in the corner, shorts still around my ankles and hands behind my neck, for another 30 minutes. Then the torture continued.
James now stood on my right and switched the strap to his left hand. I was hoping that that this would reduce the sting of the strokes, but was disappointed. If anything, the leather bit even deeper.
Twice I reached back to protect by throbbing behind from further onslaught and each time I was rewarded with 2 extra strokes.
"Try to land the tails between the cheeks," Dr. Harris advised his eldest son. "That is one of the most sensitive areas and will make the boy perk up."
So the last for cuts landed exactly there, the tips curling into the cleft and whipping the anus. My screams didnt seem to have any effect on my father or James who just watched me impassively.
Finally it was over. Once more I was made to stand in the corner while Dr. Harris, James and Robert retired to the dining room. About an hour later my father returned.
"You may pull up your shorts, Patrick. I hope you have gained a bit of knowledge from todays experience. If not, this experience can be repeated as often as necessary. Now go and take a bath, brush your teeth and then go to bed. There will be no supper for you tonight."