Brother Charles, Sister Margaret


by Juan Santiago <Paliza3000@yahoo.com>

CRACK!

"You know, Marge," my friend Elizabeth was saying, "Id really love to go to that party tomorrow. I think Lucas will be there."

"Yes, sure," I said. I was trying to keep track of Charles thrashing downstairs. I believe this was number four. "It starts quite late. We still have time."

CRACK!

My little brother, Charles, is eleven. Actually in about three months hell be twelve. It has taken me a long time to persuade my parents to use the cane on Charles. By the time he was seven, and I fifteen, I told them about how Charles behaved when they were not looking.

CRACK!

Number six. While my friends Elizabeth and Ruth were chatting in my bedroom, I was thinking about Charles getting one his of his many whippings. This had not always been so. At a young age Charles was unbearable, but my parents only scolded. He was so annoying. Until one day I overheard people talking about discipline for boys. What they said, made great sense to me. I mentioned this to my parents.

"They said that they used a good cane on their sons and commented on how much better they behaved ever since they started using this instrument."

"But Marge, a cane is so painful," my mother objected. "It is no longer considered acceptable to discipline boys physically."

"But Charles behaviour never improves," I countered. "He listens when you scold him, or wails when he is not allowed to watch the telly, but then just goes on doing the same awful things. Just earlier today he stuck his tongue out at me because of something I said."

"Maybe we should try spanking him," my father suggested after a moments thought. "Perhaps that would be a better start."

And that was what they did. I watched these spankings, with Charles over Fathers or Mothers lap, shorts and pants around his ankles, screaming his head off. This went on for several months until I brought up the matter of a cane again.

"Dad, Charles has not improved at all," I complained. "The moment his bottom no longer burns he forgets all about it. Spankings just do not impress him at all."

"Yes, but a cane? Maybe a strap would be better," was Mothers contribution at that time and this was tried, again for several months.

I must admit that Charles behaviour did improve for a while. He complained a lot about how painful that strap was across his bare bottom but once he was free of this punishment for a week or so, he reverted to his old self making a constant nuisance of himself with me and my friends.

When one of my friends told me about how her ten-year-old brother gets the cane from his father, I grasped the opportunity.

"Do you think your father could some time talk to my father?" I asked my friend, Christine.

"About my brother?" she asked.

"Yes, about how he gets punished when he is naughty. My parents are very reluctant to discipline my brother Charles except for some little, ineffective spankings."

CRACK!

Ah, lost in thought I forgot to count. Oh, well, as long as he gets at least his usual dozen, I thought.

Anyway, I had persuaded Christine to have her parents invite our parents to their home and at that time had found a chance to put their suggestions into practice. The ten-year-old boy had done something - we never really found out what it was, but it must have been quite serious - and his parents had decided to deal with him while my parents were present. They told us about it when they returned.

"You should have seen the boys face," my father laughed. "I have never seen such a miserable expression on a boys face in my life."

"Well, the poor boy was made to lower his shorts and bend over a chair with his bare bottom in the air," my mother added with smile. "It actually looked quite comical. He was not even wearing any underpants. It was all very quick and before we knew what was happening, there were a pair of still well-striped buttocks exposed to all."

"And how his father whipped the boy," exclaimed my father with obvious admiration at the mans strength, physical as well as of character. "He never hesitated once, despite the boys howls and screams as the caning slowly progressed and the boys backside became more and more marked with ugly purple and black weals. It was quite a sight."

Mother nodded. "Yes, I never thought that such a whipping could be administered to a small boy. But it obviously was very effective. The boy was very polite and humble as he buttoned up his little shorts, his face wet with tears, and apologised to all of us for having been disobedient."

Charles and I had sat quietly while our parents had related these experiences. I was most enthusiastic. "Excellent," I said. "Now you will realise that the little spankings you have been giving Charles will never work properly. It is time for a good, heavy cane, dont you think?"

"Oh, shut up, Marge," my little brother growled at me.

"Ah, you see?" I exclaimed. "Charles Snarls, my brother, is at it again."

I sometimes call my brother "Charles Snarls" to get him mad. It never fails and now he punched me on the arm. I yelped and made a big show of how much he had hurt me. "You see, Dad? That is what he always does when he is angry or when I try to teach him something. He never listens."

Our parents looked at each other. "I think Marge is probably right," my father said.

"Yes, but a cane?" My mother still sounded doubtful.

"No you cant!" my little brother shouted, furious, but I could also see that, deep down, he was actually quite worried.

CRACK!

Coming back to the present, I wondered how many strokes Charles had had by now. My friends were relaxing on the bed, listening to soft music on the radio. They did not seem to know what that sound downstairs signified.

CRACK!

So, to continue. Charles outburst that time gave me the chance. "You see? He is impossible. I really think that six of the best is the only thing that will set him straight."

And so, that evening my father had decided to go shopping for some canes the very next day. Charles was very quiet the next few days, not knowing for sure whether our father had actually bought a cane since nothing was mentioned.

But, as expected, he screamed at me for something and before I could complain to our parents, our father had already heard and ordered Charles into his study. Although Charles had been spanked mostly in his bedroom, the strap had been applied occasionally in the study. It now seemed that the study was going to be location of choice for a salutary application of the new canes.

I had been fortunate enough to be allowed to witness this first punishment with the cane (luckily only the first of many, many in the future) and it was most impressive.

Charles was made to lower his shorts and underpants and bend over the chair the way the boy had done on my parents first introduction to this new and improved discipline. His bottom was unmarked and unblemished. When Father started the caning, even I was awed by the force the cane struck and the livid weals it left on the boys backside. Charles must have been impressed as well to judge by his loud screams and frantic pleas for mercy.

Charles got six of the best plus two extra for using certain choice words to express his dislike to what was being done to him. I found the entire episode instructive and exhilarating. The next day I told my friends all about it in great detail.

When that first caning was over, young Charles, blubbering like a baby, had to stand in the corner like the naughty little boy he was, purple-striped bottom exposed to all.

CRACK!

The sound brought me back to the present.

"Hey, girls, lets go and see if Father is available. I think hes in his study. He will drive us to the party if we ask him nicely."

The three of us quickly made our way to the study and I opened the door only a second after knocking.

"Father," I started and stopped as if completely surprised by what I saw. Of course my two friends were gaping with open mouths at the spectacle that presented itself before them.

"Marge, you should not just dash in here," my father said, lowering the cane he was just about to apply again to the trembling target. But he said it with a little smile and I knew he was not annoyed with our sudden appearance. "But now that you are all here, you might as well witness the conclusion of Charles punishment."

So the three of us stood and watched. To judge by the state of the boys behind, he had gotten considerably more than his usual dozen. Charles was sobbing loudly and I saw him squirming.

Father raised the cane and whipped it full force across the lower, very bruised portion of his bottom. Charles screeched with pain while my friends Elizabeth and Ruth watched with fascination. I dont think they have ever seen a boys whipping before and it made quite an impression on them.

There were three more forceful cuts after which Father put down the cane and told Charles to get up and stand in his corner. A minute or so later, my little brother was standing, nose pressed against the wall, with his well-whipped backside on display.

"Wow, Marge," Elizabeth said with admiration, "you really must invite us over again. I would love to see one of Charles punishments from the beginning."

"Yes, and so would I," agreed Ruth. "If it is all right with your parents."

"Dad, would it be all right?" I asked.

"Well, I dont see why not," Father replied with a chuckle. "It might help get the lesson through to this little boy in the corner."

And so it was arranged that, time permitting, I would ask my friends to visit when punishment was impending. I dont think Charles was very enthusiastic about this plan, but what could he really do about it?


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