I let him sweat for more than 3 hours before I returned to Anthonys room. He was busily scribbling in his notebook, tongue protruding between his lips, so engrossed in what he was writing that he did not hear me enter.
"Well, have you finished?" I said very loudly and the boy jumped.
"Oh, just a minute. Im almost done."
"I think I should get you used to addressing me as sir," I said. "For now, lets have a look at your perfect masterpiece."
I had a quick look at what he had written and put the book down.
"I see we will have to go through this work together," I said. "Go downstairs to my study. In the cupboard you will find a short, thick leather strap. Bring it here immediately. Run, boy!"
Anthony rushed downstairs and while I waited I read what the boy had produced. The boy was out of breath when he returned with the strap. It was my preferred instrument when I felt like spanking a boy for a very prolonged time. Normally parents use their hands but I have learned that the palm soon gets hot and sore so that I rather use the strap. It is very much like a hand but it never gets tired and the sting increases exponentially with every hard smack on the same area.
Taking it in my hand, I told the boy to sit down while I drew up a second chair to sit beside him.
"Now, first of all the handwriting," I said. "What is this word?" I slapped the strap sharply across his bare thigh and the boy yelped.
"It says deserve," he cried as I gave him a second slap on the same spot.
"You will write out the word 500 times tonight after I finish with you," I told him ominously. "Now lets continue."
I pointed out many more words I claimed could not be read, making his copying chore a lengthy one. Next came grammar and I pointed out his many mistakes with dozens of painful smacks on his thigh. Since I sat on the boys right, it was his right thigh that absorbed them all and it was now beet red. And the boy was crying.
I moved my chair to the boys left and we continued.
"From what you say here," I said, "it sounds as if you are feeling sorry for yourself for having been duly disciplined. You dont seem to realise that I am doing this for your own good. I have been engaged by your father to teach you manners as well as your school lessons and I intend to honour the agreement."
During this little speech I had managed to apply about 20 good cracks on the boys left thigh which was now quickly turning the same colour as his right thigh. "You say here: Boys get whipped for almost anything but never girls. That isnt fair. Why only boys? I know I should be punished when Im naughty but I dont want to get caned every time. This is not exactly what I had told you to write, is it? I didnt tell you to complain. I told you to write why it is good for you to be soundly thrashed. It gives me the impression you are not yet convinced of that fact, so I will do my best to persuade you in time."
We went over the rest of it and I made several more speeches about what was wrong with his essay. Soon both his bare thighs were almost purple and very, very sore and tender. The boy was practically blubbering by now.
"Very well, my boy. Get those shorts down and get across my lap," I ordered the sniveling little brat. With his stinging legs he didnt dare object and quickly presented his bare bottom and climbed onto my lap. When I had him the best position, holding him immobile with my left arm and my right leg, I began to apply my little strap to his well-striped backside.
It took me just a couple of minutes to apply the first 50 smacks to his left buttock after which I had to rest while Anthony lay across my knee limp and whimpering. Then I continued on his right buttock and the boys howls started again.
"Get up," I said. "Here, take the strap and go downstairs. Ask Mattie to give you another 50 on each cheek, but tell her clearly to make each smack as hard as she can lay it on. Then come back here and do your copying until each word I gave you has been written out 500 times in your best handwriting. If I am not satisfied with your work, you will feel the cane again. I dont think you would enjoy that."
He was pleading by now, all resistance seemingly evaporated; obviously the result of having been properly disciplined. I ignored him and he finally gave up. He took the strap with an expression of great distaste and shuffled downstairs.
While I reviewed some of his school books, I listened to the boys cries coming from the kitchen downstairs. Mattie knew how to handle naughty small boys and she would do a thorough job on him. Gradually, the screams became louder, more shrill and frantic, and I imagined that Mattie had lost count and was making sure she didnt give him less than 50 on each buttock. I was certain that she must have given him almost double that number before the boys howls finally subsided.
After several minutes I finally heard a knock on the door and Anthony stood there, red-faced and trembling, bare from the waist down, holding his punished behind. His eyes searched out the shorts that were still lying on the chair. I smiled. I didnt think he would be wearing them tonight any more.
"Go and stand in the corner until I finish this," I told him. "Hands on your head. And stop that infernal noise." When he turned and trudged toward the indicated corner, I saw how discoloured and swollen his little bottom had become. Well, this boys bottom would be in such a discoloured state for most of the time, I would see to that.
After an hour in the corner, I made him sit on his bare bottom and get to work on his assignment. It took him so long I sent him to bed as soon as he had finished. I would review it and then pay the boy his dues in the morning. It was not an unpleasant prospect. His bottom would have recovered somewhat from todays assault and be once more receptive to the canes caresses.
I decided to let him have his breakfast. He was ravenous by now and did not seem satisfied with the apple and glass of milk which constituted his breakfast.
"After we go through your assignment, you may have a piece of toast. If the work is excellent, you may have some jam on it. Now sit here."
I made him sit next to me and I kept the short strap nearby. I could see that his thighs were still inflamed and red, but not nearly as raw as yesterday. So I worked on them again while I commented on his poor handwriting. Long before we had reached the end, he was blubbering again. What a little coward. Couldnt do his work properly and then cried like a baby when he was duly disciplined for his lack of effort.
The sheets of paper soon were covered with red marks and soon his backside would be similarly marked.
"Very well, stand up," I told the boy, "and pull your shorts down. I promised you the cane if these lines had not been done in your best handwriting and now I intend to fulfill that promise. And very generously as well. I think 12 strokes should be a good beginning. Go over to the sofa and lie across the arm rest. Make sure your bottom is pointed right up and spread your legs. I want that backside of yours at just the right angle for the proper application of the cane."
I corrected his position several times until he lay, completely exposed, ready for the mornings punishment.
Anthony screamed so loud, Mattie rushed into the room.
"Is everything all right, sir?" she asked.
"Yes, yes, Mattie," I replied, giving the boy a good one across the thighs. "Im just punishing the boy. We are almost finished."
Mattie surveyed the prostrate boy and nodded. "Yes, that is the way to handle boys," she said. "That little spanking I gave him yesterday was surely not enough for a boy his age." With a little chuckle, she left, closing the door behind her.
I thrashed the boy a while longer, then put the cane down and addressed the sobbing child.
"Anthony, while I am in this house, you will obey. You will do the work I tell you to do and do it properly, or you will be punished again and again until you have finally decided to behave. Do you understand?"
"Y-yes, sir," the boy blubbered miserably.
"Very well. Now lets continue with todays lessons. You can keep your shorts down. I have a feeling I will need your bottom bare for most of the morning. It is a waste of time having you pull them up and down each time I need to punish you. Sit down."
He sat slowly and carefully on the hard chair, still weeping, and we took up where we left off the day before. I did not spare the cane during that morning and by the time lunch was served, young Anthony was once more in a state of near hysterics. What a bothersome boy! Lazy, disobedient and cowardly as well. But he will learn and I will toughen him up so he can take a solid caning without complaints. It may take time, but we had a lot of that.