Richard and Simon had to make their choice within the next fifteen minutes. It was not going to be easy. Both of the options they had been given were, to put it frankly, awful. They could, of course, do nothing at all. But that would actually amount to accepting option A and rejecting option B. So it wouldn't be doing nothing.
They were both eleven years old. They were in the same class at Hill House prep school in London. But now it was the Easter holidays. Richard was staying with Simon's family, the Thompsons, at their country house, for a long weekend. It was Saturday. Friday had gone very well. They had ridden ponies in the morning and played tennis in the afternoon. They had stayed up for grown up dinner with Simon's parents and his older brother and sister (Michael and Julia). They had chatted long into the night as they lay in the twin beds in Simon's room. But Saturday had gone wrong from the start.
First, it was raining when they woke up. Not just drizzling, it was pouring down. The planned picnic obviously had to be abandoned. Then there had been the little incident of the football and the morning room window. Simon had only escaped a spanking for that because his friend had been just as much at fault as he had. But relations between Simon's parents and the two boys were, to put it mildly, somewhat frosty. Then the television in the nursery (as it was still called) had broken down. Without the morning room window problem they might have been able to prevail on Simon's parents to let them use the one in the small sitting room. But neither felt up to making the request. When they went down to the table tennis room they found Michael and Julia already there, and clearly unwilling to give up the table to two eleven year olds. So the morning had been spent moping around the house doing pretty well nothing at all.
Boredom, I am afraid, can have an awful effect on 11 year old boys. Richard and Simon were no exceptions to that general rule. It was actually Simon's idea, but it appealed even more to Richard.
Before I explain what happened, I think I should say more about Michael, Julia, Simon and Richard. Michael and Julia were sixteen year old twins. Julia was an exceptionally attractive girl. She was tall and slim with a beguiling hint of the curves which would soon make her a woman. She had long fair hair and the most amazingly wide bright blue eyes. Michael was no less good looking. He, too, was slim and tall, but with a muscular and athletic build which came from his fanatical devotion to all sports. His hair and eyes were dark, but even so it was easy to tell that he and Julia were siblings. They were also, as so often happens with twins, absolutely devoted to each other. They had no secrets. Michael would seek Julia's approval whenever a new girlfriend came on the scene and she was not happy going out with a boy unless her twin also approved. When they were younger they had got into a great many scrapes together. Indeed, between their 11th and 12th birthdays (their most mischievous year) they had both had to be spanked on many more occasions than they now cared to remember. But they had matured considerably since then. Neither was what one might call a goody-goody, but their escapades were now much less hair-raising than they had been in years past.
Simon had a lot of his older brother in him. He had the same slim and athletic build, the same dark hair and dark eyes and the same love of sports. As for his propensity to mischief, well that, I fear, was no less marked in him than it had been in Michael at the same age. His small round bottom was, I regret to say, no stranger to his father's leather slipper. But the most delightful thing about him was his extraordinary cheerfulness. I won't say he was never sad, just that his moments of sadness were no more than that. No disaster was ever so great that he could not manage that charming wide smile within a very short time.
When Simon had gone to Hill House at the age of eight he had found his true soul mate in Richard. The two lads became inseparable within days. They both excelled at sports and both had the same cheeky, but, it has to be said, enchanting, directness in their dealings with their schoolmasters and mistresses. They were popular with pupils and teachers alike, even if they were not wholly unused to spending tedious hours together in the school's detention room. Richard's hair was the purest blond colour. As with Julia, he had piercing blue eyes. When he smiled, as he did a great deal, he had the most delightful dimples in his cheeks. His disciplinary record at home was similar to Simon's. His father, too, had had to resort to the use of a slipper (actually a plimsoll) on several occasions. The punishments were, of course, disagreeable to him. But he never let them get him down for long and, it is sad to have to report, they seemed to have very little effect on his behaviour.
There is one other important character in this tale. Samantha, known as Sam, was a school friend of Julia's. She was also Michael's new girlfriend. And it was not surprising to see why. She was a girl of immense charm and astounding beauty. She, too, was a blonde, although her hair was not as long as Julia's. She had the sort of smooth complexion which famous models would die for. Her eyes were a darker blue than Julia's, but just as wide. She had a wonderful little snub nose and lips which just begged to be kissed. She was not as tall as Michael, but was certainly tall for a girl. She had small round breasts which promised a great deal to come. Her hips were just beginning to fill, but she remained incredibly slim. Her legs seemed to go on for ever rising to a wonderfully firm round bottom which, I am sorry to say, Michael had great difficulty in keeping his hands off.
It was after lunch that things began to go from bad to worse. Lunch itself had been fine. Sam had been invited to join the party and had, as usual, enchanted everyone at the table (Mr Thompson most certainly approved of his son's new girlfriend). Simon and Richard, who had reached that age when boys begin to see that there might be a reason for the existence of girls, but often still need some persuading, were bowled over by this goddess. And that was the problem.
Michael, Julia and Sam had arranged to meet a friend of Michael's, Joseph, at the indoor tennis courts in the local town. The younger boys were still wholly undecided about their plans for the afternoon. They would have dearly loved to play tennis as well, but they knew that it would be impossible to get a court at such short notice (Michael had booked one the previous week). They were just preparing to devote themselves to more moping round the house when Simon overheard Julia talking to Sam. It was just a snippet of conversation, but it gave him an idea of which he ought to have been dreadfully ashamed.
"Sam", Julia had said, "we might as well change at the courts. We'd get soaked in our tennis stuff if we change here."
Simon ran straight out of the sitting room in search of Richard, who had gone to look for a book to read. He found him in the library. In seconds he explained his plan. In seconds, Richard gave his unqualified approval. In minutes the boys, not even bothering with coats to keep off the rain, were running to their bicycles, mounting them and speeding off down the drive.
Michael, Julia and Sam left shortly after the boys. They too used bicycles. But they rode at a more sedate pace. It took them twenty minutes to get to the tennis courts. Michael had not had the same concern about getting wet as the girls. He had already changed before leaving home. He waited in the foyer while the girls went to change.
There were only three changing cubicles. The middle one was in use. Sam took the one on its right and Julia the one on its left. The partitions were thin. They rose to about 6' 6". Then there was a gap of about 2' to the ceiling. Sam took off her coat, hung it up on the hook on the back of the door and then slipped out of her shoes and socks before undoing and pulling down her jeans. She folded them and placed them on the bench. Next, she removed her shirt. She had nothing on underneath it. She stood for a moment looking at herself in the mirror before slipping her knickers down and putting them underneath the jeans. Then she bent down to take her tennis clothes out of her bag on the floor. It was as she did that that she heard the noise above her. She straightened up and looked to the top of the partition. She was just in time to see a hand disappearing. Someone in the middle partition had been watching her. She was appalled. With astounding speed she pulled on her frilly white tennis knickers, her skirt and blouse. She could hear nothing from the next cubicle. She went out and hammered on its locked door.
"Who's in there?" she called out. But there was only silence. She was not prepared to let it go. Julia, hearing her friend's voice came out of her cubicle. When Sam explained what had happened she, too, was shocked. But she knew what to do.
"I'll stay here. You go and get Michael. We'll catch him, don't you worry."
You have guessed who was inside the cubicle. Simon and Richard were now cowering in the corner staring at each other with terrified eyes. The idea had seemed such a good one at the time. Now it dawned on them that it had been a very bad one. Simon knew the tennis courts well. He knew the layout of the changing cubicles. He had explained to Richard that, if they got there in time, they could get into the middle one and then be sure of being able, by standing on the bench and pulling themselves up, to see Sam undressing.
"She'll have to take her shirt off", Simon had said, "and there's no way she's wearing a bra."
Neither had expected her to change her knickers as well. It had been the sight of them coming down, and of what lay beneath them, that had caused both boys to gasp involuntarily and then to scramble down before they could be seen. But they obviously had been seen, though clearly not recognised, and there was no way Michael was going to give up till he found out who had been spying on his girlfriend. But neither were they going to come out and give themselves up.
Sam was back with Michael in a matter of moments. He lost no time in hammering on the door and demanding that whoever was there should come out. There was no response.
"Well two can play at your game", he said in a chillingly menacing voice, "I am coming to get you."
With that he strode into Sam's cubicle, jumped up onto the bench and hauled himself up to the top of the partition. When he saw the two eleven year olds in the corner he was so astonished that he could think of nothing to say. But actions do sometimes speak louder than words. Without a pause, he swung his legs over the partition and jumped down on the other side. As he landed, he regained the power of speech.
"You filthy little boys. By God you're going to pay for this. You just wait till Dad finds out. Bloody hell, you won't be able to sit down for weeks."
The game was, of course, up. Both boys shakily got to their feet and gazed pleadingly at Michael. Simon spoke.
"Oh please, Mike, don't tell Dad. I'm really really sorry and we won't ever do anything like this again. Please, please."
But Michael was not to be moved. No one messed with his girl and got away with it. He turned and unlocked the door.
"OK, get out you perverts, and try looking Sam in the face. Then explain to me why you shouldn't be frogmarched home for the worst thrashing of your lives".
Sam and Julia had, of course, already worked out from the familiar voices who it was who was in the cubicle. Julia shared her brother's anger. Sam, it has to be said, could already see the amusing side of it, although she had no immediate objection to Michael's plans for the boys. There was almost a smile on her lips as she looked at the two rain-soaked boys, both wearing nothing but shorts and T shirts, creeping out of the cubicle with eyes firmly fixed on the ground. Slowly they looked up and faced their victim. Both had tears in their eyes, not I hasten to say engendered by fear but by deep shame at what they had done. She looked back into their faces and felt an instant sympathy for the rascals, which was certainly not deserved. She knew that they ought to be punished. But she also felt that the added shame of being revealed to Mr and Mrs Thompson as perverts would be appalling for them.
"It's OK, Michael", she said, "there's no need to tell your dad. I'm sure they've learnt their lesson."
The eleven year olds looked adoringly at the beautiful creature in front of them and turned, in desperate hope, to the older boy. They were not heartened by his expression. He was glaring at them with a look of steely determination. But a thought had just occurred to him. It was not in his nature to tell tales on his younger brother. He had never done so before and, as he thought about it, he realised that it was not going to be something he would enjoy doing. But neither was he prepared to let them off. He stood in silent contemplation for a moment. Then he spoke.
"OK, this is my final decision. You have a choice. I can tell Dad, in which case you", he was looking at Simon, "will have the sorest backside in Berkshire this evening, and you", he turned his gaze to Richard, "will be reported to your father who, I daresay, will give you similar treatment. Or you can both take a bare bum slippering from me, six of the best, in front of Sam. You've been staring at her in the nude. I don't see why she shouldn't see what little you've got to boast about under your shorts."
Simon started to protest, but Michael cut him short.
"I don't want to hear another word from you. Like I said, this decision is final. You will now go home and wait in your room for us to finish our match and ride home. We will be back at four. We will come up to your room and you will give me your decision, without any argument. If you choose to be reported to Dad I will tell him as soon as he and Mum get back at six. If you choose to be punished by me, I will thrash you straight away. If you say nothing, I will report you to Dad. If one of you wants me to report you to Dad and the other wants me to punish him, I will report you to Dad. Get out of my sight."
The boys were much too scared to remonstrate. They turned on their heels and ran for the exit.
And now, here they were, at a quarter to four, sitting on their beds in Simon's room both with elbows planted on their knees and hands cupping their cheeks. Neither had yet revealed his thoughts about the choice he was facing. Now Simon spoke.
"I'm really sorry I got you in this mess Dick".
"It's not your fault. I wanted to see her as much as you. Anyway, it was great while it lasted. Those tits and that bum. Wow they are so cool."
This attempt to lighten the atmosphere was only partly successful. Simon agreed that seeing Sam naked had been terrific, but his mind soon returned to the dreadful choice.
"Look", he said, "you're the guest. I'll go along with whatever decision you make."
Richard was, as it happens, in no doubt about the choice he would make. The thought of his father, and no doubt his mother as well, finding out about this was just too dreadful to contemplate. Whatever decision was made, he would undoubtedly end up with a very painful bottom. But at least, if Michael gave it to him, no adult would be told.
"Well, if you're sure, I have to say that I'd rather just let Michael get it over and done with. I don't like the idea of Sam watching, but I s'pose it's only fair. After all, we saw her bum so I don't see we can complain about her seeing ours".
Simon was greatly relieved by his friend's decision. His own thoughts had been running on precisely the same lines. It was as though a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders. He was dreading the punishment. Michael, he knew, was very strong for his age and would have no hesitation in using all his strength to teach the boys a lesson. But at least this way his parents would never find out.
It was Richard who came up with the idea. Both had been feeling distressed at Sam seeing, as Michael had put it, what little they had to boast about under their shorts. Almost the worst part, they had been thinking, would be having to strip in front of her. But Richard thought he could see a way of reducing the embarrassment.
"Hey, I've got an idea. Why don't we drop our shorts and boxers and bend over a couple of chairs before they come in? That way Michael will see what our decision is straight away and Sam won't get to see our dicks when we're stripping".
"Brilliant. Come on, let's set it up. But first I'll go and get Dad's whacking slipper". He rushed out of the room and returned a couple of minutes later with the awesome instrument of punishment.
Then they pulled over two chairs from the wall and placed them in front of the window, about six feet apart. It was now five to four. They looked at each other and then slowly began to undo their shorts and pull them down. Their boxers followed. Each glanced at the other's snow white, slim round bottom before whispering "good luck" and bending over the backs of the chairs.
What a peculiar sight they made. Two eleven year old boys, naked from the waist down, with no one else in the room, bent over two hard backed chairs. The minutes ticked slowly by. Then they heard the front door open. Time for another whispered "good luck". Then the sound of footsteps on the stairs and pacing along the landing. Then the sound of the door opening.
Michael, for his part, had been hoping desperately that he would not be required to snitch on the younger boys. He was also, I am extremely sorry to report, secretly rather looking forward to the prospect of wielding a punishment slipper. He had seen his brother being slippered before. But he had never seen Richard being punished, had not even seen his bottom. There was something about the idea of walloping Richard's naked bottom which he found strangely exciting.
As he opened the door and saw the two bending boys he allowed the briefest of smiles to dart across his face. Sam, who had been in two minds about whether to witness the beatings, had eventually decided that she would. She followed Michael into the room. Julia had decided to stay downstairs.
Michael glanced around the room and saw the familiar slipper (which had been used on him in years gone by) sitting on the desk. He walked slowly forward and picked it up. No one had yet spoken a word. It was almost surreal this little scene they were acting out.
The bending boys were holding their breaths and beginning to tense their buttocks for the onslaught.
Sam was watching in fascination. She was an only child and had never seen anyone being punished like this. She had, herself, been spanked occasionally when younger, but that was the limit of her experience. She looked at the two firm round bottoms and found herself thinking that the boys were going to be very attractive one day.
Still Michael remained silent. Indeed, he had resolved, on taking in the scene, that he would not speak until the deed was done. He walked slowly towards Simon. Once in place, he gave the waiting bottom a couple of preparatory taps with the slipper and noted how the buttocks tensed again. Then he swung back and forward in one violent movement and the leather smashed into the flesh.
Simon was ready for it. He flinched a little. The force was at least as great as that used by his father. But he stood firm.
Sam gasped as the stroke landed. She had guessed that a slippering would be painful, but she had somehow never imagined it could be as bad as this obviously was. She was tempted to shout out to Michael to stop. But then she remembered what they had done and she took in the fact that Simon was taking the punishment without complaint. Just then the second crash exploded round the room. Still Simon remained silent. His bottom, which had been so white, was now a deep scarlet colour. Sam was amazed at his courage. That amazement was even greater when, after the sixth stroke, he remained silent and perfectly still. He must have stayed in place for about five seconds. Then he eased himself up. It had been his intention immediately to pull up his boxers, but the pain was too bad for that. He grabbed his bottom and rubbed furiously. Then he bent down and pulled up his boxers and shorts before turning to look at Sam. She didn't know it, but he had been blinking back involuntary watering in his eyes. Now, as he looked into her beautiful face, she saw that his eyes were perfectly dry. Boys, she thought to herself, are amazing creatures.
Michael was now looking down on Richard's bottom. He could not have put into words what it was about what he saw that seemed to arouse him so much. But there was no doubt that the slim buttocks seemed to be just begging to be thrashed. They were ideally proportioned. He sighed. Then, using no less force, he repeated the whole performance. Richard, having noted Simon's stoicism was determined to show the same fortitude. He took his six strokes in silence. Like Simon, he could not resist rubbing his bottom before pulling up his boxers and shorts.
At last words were spoken.
"OK", said Michael, "we won't ever mention this again."
But it was Sam who brought joy to their hearts.
She moved towards them, smiling her lovely smile.
"All is forgiven. I hope what you saw was worth this."
Then she instinctively leant forward and planted a gentle kiss on the cheek of each boy. She put one arm round Richard and one round Simon and hugged them to her side. Then, ever so gently, she allowed her hands to drop until they were gently stroking each small throbbing bottom.
And so it was that a sordid little incident had a happy ending.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Another one from my archives. Do email me. Thanks