It was dinner time and the Belton family was seated around the dining room table.
"Robert," Dianne Belton said suddenly, "Suzy tells me Donald pushed her this afternoon." She looked at her husband with a meaningful glance.
"Donald, how many times do we have to tell you it is forbidden to to raise your hand to girls?"
"But, Dad," the eight-year-old protested, his face already contorted, ready to burst into tears, "she started it."
"I dont care who started what," his father snapped sharply. "I will not have you attacking your sister."
Suzy, aged thirteen, smirked at her brother. "He also kicked me right in the shins," she added triumphantly. "And it still hurts ever so much." She rubbed her leg dramatically under the table cloth.
"Donald, when you have finished eating, we will have a little meeting in my study," Robert said ominously.
"But, Dad," the boy wailed, "Please! I didnt do nothing."
"Didnt do anything," his mother corrected sternly. "And youd better do as your father tells you, young man."
"Can I watch?" Suzy asked, giving her brother a secret wink.
"Very well," Robert Belton replied. "You can help holding him down if h misbehaves."
Dianne Belton followed. "Youd better double the boys last punishment," she said. "You gave him six yesterday, I believe."
"A dozen with the junior cane, then," agreed Robert Belton. "Come along, boy," he snapped, taking the boy by an ear and dragging him roughly towards his study.
Young Donald, clutching his fathers hand trying to minimize the tug on his ear, could hardly keep up. His bare legs trembled and suddenly the stripes from the previous caning sprang to life again.
"Please, Dad, dont cane me again. I wont push Suzy again, I promise."
He was ignored, only the pull on his ear was increased. "Get inside," his father ordered, propelling him into the study.
It was a large, formal room, one wall lined with book cases, another with original oil paintings. A large window overlooking a tree-lined street provided light during the day. Now it was evening and the dark glass reflected the scene inside the study. Donald saw himself, a slender, blond boy in brief shorts and grey jumper, standing on tip-toes to reduce the pull on the ear in his fathers grip. It would have been a comical sight if it hadnt been his own.
"Stand over here," the boys father ordered, at last releasing the boys very red ear. "Suzy, you will please lower his shorts all the way to his ankles."
"But, Dad," the boy started, his face reddening, "why Suzy -?"
"Be quiet, boy," his mother interrupted, "or I will ask your father to add another 3 or 6 strokes. Now stand up straight, lift your arms and let your sister unbutton your shorts."
Biting his lips and fighting to control his tears of anger and frustration as well as shame, he allowed his sister to kneel before him and slowly undo his shorts, button by button, push them down to his ankles and then start on his underpants.
"Mum, please!" the boy begged when he realised he would soon be exposing himself to everybody.
"Robert, I see you will have to give the boy 15 strokes. Donald, I warned you."
Suzy, having completed her task with obvious relish, stood back and observed her brothers shame, caught his eye and grinned.
"Little Donnie is going to get his little bottom caned," she sang. "Wait till I tell my friends at school."
Donald was about to say something, thought better of it, and closed his mouth again.
"Bend over the desk, boy," Robert Belton said sharply. "Suzy, please hold on to his arms from the other side and make sure he doesnt move. This caning is going to be quite severe."
The boy placed himself with the assurance born from extended previous experience and extended his arms so his sister could grasp him by the wrists. He dutifully spread his feet as far as his shorts would allow. His mother watched while the father went to retrieve one of the canes he kept in the cupboard.
"Oh, Dad," the boy wailed, "thats not the junior cane."
"No, not exactly," he father agreed. "But its not the senior cane either and unless you keep silent until we are finished here, I will use the senior cane, so be grateful. This cane is a medium range to be used on willful, bullying little boys who push girls and dont obey their parents orders."
Robert Belton measured his distance, tapped the boys streaked bottom with the cane a few times and the raised it high.
It made a loud hissing whistle as it descended in swift arc and lashed across the boys bare buttocks. It cross the previous weals, still fresh from the day before, and elicited loud confirmation from the boy that the stroke had the desired effect.
"One, sir," the boy squealed. "Thank you, sir." The required formula at each caning.
After six firmly placed cuts along the lower cheeks, Suzy was beginning to have trouble holding the boy in place. Young Donald squirmed and pushed, kicked his legs, threw up his head and howled, but to no avail. The cane did its work splendidly and each cut, on the lower buttocks and upper thighs, left vivid, blood red welts on the swelling little bottom.
After the second set of six had been duly delivered, the mother had to help Suzy because the boy was struggling so much, the girl could no longer control him. Dianne Belton placed both hands on her sons shoulders and pressed down firmly.
"Give him the last three so he really feels them," she told her husband and that was exactly what he gave the bawling boy.
They left his squirming across the desk for a few minutes, all three staring at the bruises and tram lines covering the boys backside. A true scene of a well-punished little boy.
A scene that the next day was recounted in great detail. Donald, to his dismay, saw Suzy in the center of a group of giggling boys, recounting last evenings event. When she saw her brother within hearing distance, she pointed at him and the girls all turned to look.
"Well, Donnie boy, hows your backside? Still sore? Want to show it to my friends? I told them how I pulled your little shorts and pants down to expose your bare bottom already marked with a previous caning. Come on over. Theyd love to see the stripes."
Furiously blushing and close to tears, the boy ran off while the girls laughter rang in his ears long after he had left the playground.