Dr. Herbert Bucher watched the boy carefully as they sat at the dinner table. Fritz, a slender blond boy of twelve, was spooning soup into his wide mouth with an annoying noise.
Fritz, he said sharply, mind your table manners.
The boy looked up from his plate with an anxious expression on his pale face.
Yes, sir, sorry, sir. He quickly glanced at his mother and sister.
Frau Bucher looked back at the boy with an obvious glance of disapproval.
A spoiled boy, she muttered, then went back to finish her soup.
Is he going to be caned again? the sister, Inge, asked with a mischievous grin. She was four years older than Fritz, also blond and blue-eyed. A very pretty, if somewhat conceited, young lady.
Dr. Bucher was silent and left the boy to his anxiety.
Fritz came into the house with muddy boots, Frau Bucher added for good measure. You know how many times Ive told him to change into his slippers before entering the foyer, not afterwards. He doesnt seem to listen.
Fritz pushed the plate away. He had suddenly lost his appetite. I just took one step, Mammi, he whined.
Did your mother say you could take one step into the foyer without changing your shoes, Fritz? Dr. Bucher asked, motioning to the housekeeper to bring in the next course. And stop that irritating whining, he added.
I - er, the boy stammered. His fingers played nervously with his napkin.
Answer me, boy, his father snapped impatiently.
No, sir. She didnt.
Meaning you were disobedient again, doesnt it, Fritz?
Y-yes, sir, but -
Yes, yes, I know, his father interrupted him, you always have some excuse for your misbehaviour. Now be quiet and lets finish our dinner. I still have a lot of work to do tonight.
Inge shot her young brother a look full of amusement. Youre going to get it, she said in a whisper. The boys face flushed and he tried to kick his sister but managed only a glancing touch to her shin.
Ow! Inge yelped loudly. Fritz kicked me!
I did not!
You did, too!
Dr. Bucher banged his fist on the table. Be quiet, you two. I wont have this quarrel here at the table. Fritz, you will report to my study at 8 oclock sharp. Well discuss your behaviour at that time. Now I want some silence from you.
During the rest of the meal only the quiet conversation between the two adults broke the silence. Inge ate with relish while Fritz squirmed on his hard chair. He hardly ate anything at all. He knew all too well what a visit to his fathers study represented.
When they had finished, the housekeeper cleared the table, Frau Bucher moved to the kitchen and the children went to their respective rooms. It was Friday night and Inge had plans. She expected her boyfriend to take her to the cinema and she planned on a bath and then dress in her best. She was going to make an impression on the boy.
Fritz went to his own bedroom and sat forlornly on his bed. It was still an hour before his fateful appointment and he knew he should be doing his homework. Although there was no school tomorrow, his mother would review his lessons tomorrow morning and report the results to his father. He knew that a single mistake could bring painful consequences.
His room was cold and he rubbed his bare thighs. He had been promised (if he behaved) his first pair of long trousers for his 14th birthday and he wished he were that age already now. He had never been given anything but these brief, tight shorts, regardless of weather, while many of his friends were already in longs, all of them in the winter months.
At last he forced himself to open his schoolbooks and started reading, keeping a close eye on the clock on the wall. It wouldnt do to be late. He usually would be at the studys door a minute or two early, then wait until he heard the clock strike. Only then did he dare knock on the door of his father's study.
If only Inge would leave him alone. But she always managed to get him into trouble and seemed to enjoy the spectacle when she watched the caning that invariably followed. She had done it again tonight, even though he seemed heading for punishment already before he tried to kick her.
At two minutes before 8 o clock, Fritz put down his book and with a loud sigh, stood. Automatically his hand went to the seat of his shorts pulling at the centre seam. These shorts were so uncomfortable, especially when he was doubly aware of his well-encased buttocks. They were in for a lot of pain, he knew.
As usual he waited at his fathers study door until the clock struck. He knocked and upon hearing his fathers reply, entered the large room.
Come in and close the door, Dr. Bucher said without lifting his eyes from the papers on his desk. Fritz stood and waited, his bare legs trembling.
It was a good ten minutes before Dr. Bucher put down the papers and looked at his young son.
Well, Fritz, it seems you have been a bad boy, doesnt it?
Oh, sir, Im sorry. I didnt think my shoes were dirty and I didnt really kick Inge.
Well, you know the rules about shoes inside the house, so it is irrelevant if they clean or not. Second, just trying to kick your sister is a caning offense, as you should know by now. And may I remind you of your atrocious table manners? These are three serious offenses that require punishment. Im sure you arent going to argue about it, are you?
Young Fritz squirmed uncomfortably. N-no, sir, he said, knowing that any argument would be useless and just invite a few more strokes. Three serious offenses was already more than he had bargained for. His mind was on his last caning, only 3 days earlier. His small bottom had not yet fully recovered from that session.
Get the chair into position and prepare yourself, his father instructed. And while the boy struggled to get the heavy armchair into the middle of the room, Dr. Bucher went to the cupboard for the cane.
It was a fearful instrument and Fritz looked at it with fear and distaste as he slowly unbuttoned his shorts and pushed them down to his ankles, leaving his bare from waist to ankles. Then he bent obediently over the wide back of the leather-upholstered chair.
Dr. Bucher flexed the cane, then swished it through the air as he usually did to announce the start of a punishment. I will give you six strokes, he said and when he saw the boys obvious relief in the way his buttocks relaxed their tension, he added casually, for each offense, of course. Thats 18 strokes in total which even an obtuse boy like you might have been able to deduce.
He gazed for a moment at the striped bottom of the bending boy. Yes, the previous cane marks were still quite dark and presumably still quite tender. But the boy had to be disciplined and there was nothing to do but whip him again across those welts. He raised the cane high.
Fritz held his breath but the stroke didnt land and he had to let it out again. Just then the cane bit sharply into the underside of his buttocks and the boy had no breath left to cry out. But he did when the cane was poised once more to strike. The second stroke bit into the same spot and the boy howled.
When the first six strokes had been duly delivered, the young boy was blubbering. His whole body shook with sobs and his face was covered in snot and tears. A sorry sight, indeed. Please, sir, he begged between sobs, no more. It hurts so!
This is meant to hurt, my boy, and you will get a dozen more. So better accept it. But less noise, if you please. You should learn to control yourself.
And the cane slashed down six more times across the lower, fleshier portions of the boys backside. Fritz howled lustily at each but somehow managed to stay in his bent position. That much had been successfully whipped into him over the years.
Another pause after the second set of six, the boy was limp, hoarse from screaming, exhausted with the pain. Dr. Bucher looked down dispassionately on the half-naked child who was writhing across the chair. Just six more, he said calmly, and it will be over. So get a grip on yourself and dont carry on so.
The last six were lost in a fog of pain. He saw or heard nothing, just felt the burning, agonising fire in his posteriors. His mind was concentrated on his buttocks to the exclusion of everything else. Just 5 more...just 4 more...just 3 more... He wept and sobbed and screamed. Just 2 more... Now only one more...
When it came, it was so hard the boys body was pushed up the chair back. Fritz almost lost hold of the chair and was about to rise in agony, when he remembered his early lessons. Under no circumstances was he to get out of position before he had permission to do so.
Very well, boy, his father said, replacing the cane, you may rise and get dressed. Then we will review your days schoolwork.