Basil - Part 13


by Juan Santiago <Palizaus2000@yahoo.com>

Back in his study, Jack read the letter yet again. It had arrived about ten days ago and read:

"Dear Mr. Pryor,

"We have decided to take our son (from my husband's previous marriage) out of the school he has been attending up to now because of its complete lack of firm discipline.

"Our son, William, is 11 years old; his birthday is in about seven months. He is a normal boy for this age, dirty, foul-mouthed, lazy. He lies to get off punishment and generally disobeys orders. The school, despite 3 or 4 canings a week, has not been able to improve the boy's character or behaviour.

"So we have asked around for a private institution whose methods were more designed to modify boys' behaviour. I will be quite frank and tell you that both my husband and I are of the opinion that only the severest forms of punishment will have the desired effect on the child and obviously the present school, as well as the others we have contacted, are not up to the challenge.

"Now we were told of your school by an acquaintance of a friend of mine. She told me a little about your methods and they seem promising. I was told ofour liberal use of the birch, cane and leather tawse which, if I understood her correctly, are all applied exclusively on the boys' naked buttocks.

"Of course, William has been caned and thoroughly tawsed on the bare behind both at his present school (after we had voiced our dissatisfaction with their normal practices) and at home (I am sure the parental thrashings were more severe than those at his school yet to no avail) but it seems more is required to bring home to the boy the necessity of instant, unquestioning obedience and proper behaviour.

"So we have decided to try your institution in the event that you agree to take him on. We would be willing to make it a 3-month trial after which time either you or we could discontinue the arrangement. Please let me know if you would be willing to interview the boy and, if found acceptable, to the trial period.

"Yours sincerely,

"Joanne Dover."

Today was the day of the interview. Jack Pryor had replied in the affirmative, actually quite intrigued by the letter's contents. His school had a reputation for rigid discipline and the highest of academic standards and the parents who enrolled their sons with him knew exactly what they had in store.

Punctually at 2:00 p. m. the Dovers were announced and shown into Mr. Pryor's study. It was a large room with an ample desk on one side and an arrangement of sofa and armchairs, side tables and cupboards on the other. The floor had deep, soft carpeting and the walls were wood-panelled where the bookshelves didn't cover them. Wide, tall windows brightened up the otherwise gloomy study. The only inconsistent piece of furniture was a solid wooden straight-backed chair that had been placed near one of the windows on the far side of the room.

Jack Pryor studied his guests for a moment. Both parents were tall and slender, the man with a bit of a paunch but otherwise seemed to have been quite athletic in his younger days. The mother, or rather stepmother, was in better shape, well tanned and had the figure of a tennis player.

Then he turned his attention to the boy. Slender and of average height, he resembled his father with his dark hair and eyes. Not really a handsome face, Mr. Pryor thought, but boyishly impish with his small nose, large mouth and protruding ears. His small oval-shaped face looked drawn and apprehensive at this moment, and he kept licking his lips. His eyes darted from side to side, never meeting Mr. Pryor's own. A bad sign, he thought. The evasiveness of a sneak and liar.

Young William was dressed quite properly in a sport shirt, brief, tight-fitting gray flannel shorts, gray ankle socks and black sneakers. His bare legs looked sturdy and tanned. Mr. Pryor was satisfied.

"Please be seated," he said to the Dovers, indicating the sofa at the other end of the room. To William he added tersely, "You stand over there."

Jack Pryor sat in one of the armchairs facing the adults, while the boy was made to stand awkwardly to one side. His fingers plucked at the hems of his shorts. "Hands behind your back," Jack snapped at him sharply, startling the youngster into obedience.

"So, Mrs. Dover, let's start with your opinion as to how the boy should be treated here. Then I will explain to you how we operate. If the differences are too large, we will part amicably. Otherwise, we will make the necessary arrangements for the three-month trial."

The Dovers looked at each other for a moment, then the father said, "Henrietta, you'd better start."

"Very well, Brian. Mr. Pryor, William is not behaving the way we want him to behave. As I wrote in my letter, he is lazy, dirty, foul-mouthed with his friends and he lies. God knows what else he does that we haven't heard about. I shudder to think."

"Yes," Brian Dover said. "But in particular, he is disobedient. We will not stand for that."

"We want the boy to learn that this type of behaviour will be punished, and punished in such a way that it leaves a memorable impression. We know that your school makes liberal use of the cane and tawse. Do you also employ the birch rod?"

"Yes, we do," Jack Pryor said. "Some masters also have a martinet with good, solid tails. Braided leather tails. Quite effective."

"We want William to be disciplined with utmost severity as much and as often as you may deem necessary to correct his behaviour. And all whippings are to be applied to the naked buttocks and thighs."

"Of course," Jack Pryor said.

"We also would like the boy to be rigorously trained physically, with games such as rugby and football (soccer, as it is called in America), hard daily exercise, perhaps boxing and swimming. Certainly daily runs would be required. To keep him healthy."

"We have these programs and we can tailor a busy schedule for William. And he'll run several miles regardless of how bruised and swollen his backside may be."

"The boy should be dressed with as few clothes a reasonable. Shirt, shorts, socks and shoes is all that is really required."

"Our uniform is worn year round, regardless of season. I will show you what they look like but they are similar to what William is wearing now. We insist that arms and legs be bare at all times, the thighs up to the groin. Shorts of just the minimal length that don't necessarily cover the bottom completely."

"That is really all," Brian Dover said. "The boy should be beaten systematically and regularly with such severity that he will think twice before continuing his lamentable behaviour. His schoolwork must be 95% plus, or it will not be acceptable. If he achieves 94% on any test, a dozen with tawse followed by a dozen with the cane, used to be his minimum penalty. I'm sure you can improve on that."

"I'm sure as well," Jack Pryor said with a smile. "I can assure you, the boy will feel his punishments. Sitting is not the most favoured position for boys in this school. Most prefer to be standing. At night they sleep on their stomachs."

"Why don't you give us a little demonstration?" Henrietta Dover said. "It would be beneficial for all of us if we knew exactly how you proceed. William was late getting up this morning and we promised him a thrashing later today. This seems to be a good opportunity to show the boy what is in store for him if he persists in his recalcitrance."

"An excellent idea," Jack Pryor said. "The boy was instructed as to the time he was to get up?"

"Yes. It's the same time every morning. We even knocked on his door a few times but he just wouldn't listen. I assume he just turned over and went back to sleep."

Jack Pryor turned to the boy who stood uncomfortably listening to all this. "What is your excuse for such disobedience, boy?" he asked.

"I overslept, sir," William muttered, his face turning a bright pink. "I didn't hear the alarm clock. I did hear the knock on the door and then I got up."

"That was probably the second time," his father said drily. "It seems he's a sound sleeper. Perhaps you can drum the sleepiness out of him?"

"I will try," Jack laughed. "Come here, William."

The boy approached the chair where Jack was sitting and stood before him. Bending down, Jack gripped the boy by the hips and drew him closer. He felt the warm, slender body stiffen under his touch. Taking this as a sign of resistance on the boy's part, he raised his right hand and gave the boy's bare thigh a resounding slap. "Stand still, boy," the man thundered.

The startled boy licked his lips and tried to keep his tears in, while Mr. Pryor slowly and deliberately unbuttoned first the waistband of the boy's shorts, then, button by button, the flys. As he opened the two flaps to reveal the bare belly, William again flinched and was rewarded with another huge smack on the same spot on his thigh. An angry red palm mark made its appearance as the boy rubbed the sore spot with his fingers.

"Hands behind your back, boy," Jack snapped, then pushed the small shorts down the boys thighs until they dropped on their own to the boy's ankles. "Now lift up your shirt," he said, "and turn around."

When the boy had obeyed, somewhat grudgingly, he displayed to the man a well-punished behind. Dark red and blue stripes covered the lower portions with a purple-black bruise on each side.

"A good beginning," Jack said to the boy's parents. "Most boys just have a few fading stripes, if any, across their backsides when they are brought here. We have to be the ones who put our stamp on them, so to speak. With William here it will be much easier. He knows what to expect and has had a recent sample on which we can build." Turning to the boy again, he added, "Bring that chair over here."

He pointed to the heavy wooden chair by the window and young William stumbled towards it. The tight shorts around his ankles impeded his steps and he struggled for some time - as the three adults watched with amusement - until he had brought the chair to the indicated spot.

"Kneel on the seat and bend over the back," Jack instructed. "You will be the lucky recipient of your first taste of our school's primary instruction method."

William found it difficult to kneel on the chair while having his ankles fettered to his shorts but eventually managed to assume the required position. He knew from abundant experience what was going to happen but was nevertheless in a state of high anxiety as to how much this tall man would hurt him. His bottom was actually still quite tender.

"Mr. Dover," Jack Pryor said as he selected a cane from those he kept in the cupboard, "how many strokes would you recommend for the boy's disobedience?"

"No less than a dozen," the boy's father said without any hesitation and looked expectantly at Jack.

"I presume you mean a dozen with the cane plus a dozen with the tawse, from what you told me previously. Am I correct?"

Mr. and Mrs. Dover exchanged a glance and smiled. "You are absolutely correct. How could I have forgotten?" They all laughed while the bare-bottomed boy shifted uneasily on the chair. His knees were starting to hurt from the hard wooden seat.

"Well," Jack said, lightly tapping the bruises on the boy's buttocks with the cane, "since this is the boy's first discipline at our school, I will give him twenty with the tawse - on each cheek, of course - and two dozen with the cane. The question is, which should be used first?"

Henrietta Dover said, "The cane," at the same time as Brian Dover said, "The tawse." Both laughed.

"It's a tie," Pryor said, "and the best compromise would be to give the boy ten on each cheek with the tawse, then the two dozen with the cane and finish off with another ten of the tawse across each buttock. Wouldn't you agree?"

They agreed and Pryor placed the cane on his desk, returned to the cupboard and brought out a brutal-looking leather tawse. Over two inches wide, with two tails, it was more than a quarter of an inch thick and almost three feet long. It was a most impressive instrument of correction and when young William at last got a glimpse of it, he gave a horrified gasp. That thing was even worse than the one he got at home. His little bottom twitched with fear.

Jack Pryor stood close to the bending boy and tickled his backside with the tips of the tawse, watching the buttocks tense. There was a long silence in the room until the boy's bottom had relaxed once more, then the tawse was raised high and brought down with maximum strength across the boy's left buttock. A noise like a pistol shot echoed around the room, the boy's bottom jumped up high and then came a shrill scream of pain. Another long pause ensued but this time the silence was broken by the boy's whimpers.

The second stroke, across the same cheek but a bit lower, cracked loudly and the skin, where the impact was the greatest, turned an angry crimson. William gave another loud cry and was about to bring a hand back to protect his sore little bottom.


More stories by Juan Santiago