Next morning a bright and cheerful Justin came down to breakfast in his pyjamas as usual - the human boy rarely shows any animosity to the man who has thrashed him if he knows it was deserved. Sipping my Earl Grey tea I asked him to show me his backside and he readily pulled off his pyjama trousers and presented his bottom for inspection: it was still somewhat reddened, and a light tweak of flesh between my forefinger and thumb elicited an indignant squeak from the boy, showing that it was still sensitive. He made no effort to put the trousers back on, and I got the impression the youngster actually enjoyed breakfasting in this half-naked state!
I probed him about spankings at school. He admitted that he often got whacked, but in shorts, not on the bare bum. I must be careful not to apply for a job there.
And your father..?
He whips me if Im very bad, but usually just stops my pocket-money or something.
What does he whip you with?
Justin looks at me as if Im simple. The whip, of course.
Can you show me it? He runs off to the barn, well-spanked bottom just protruding from below his pyjama jacket, and returns with a small whip. The handle is solid and about a foot long, with a slightly longer piece of thin leather attached. I bring it down on a cushion and it feels a very easy tool to use. Oddly, although I have used an astonishing variety of implements to punish naughty boys bottoms, I have never used a whip. Does your father make you take your trousers and pants down?
The boy nodded glumly. I was now certain that this was why he was so anxious that I didnt tell his father about the stealing – the man might well wish to demonstrate his displeasure to Justins backside.
As I said yesterday, the stealing incident is closed. As long as there is no repetition, I wont mention it when your father returns. Justin jumped up, threw himself on me and gave me a big hug!
In reality I little imagined that another opportunity to beat Justins bare bottom would present itself. His father came home for a few days, and I kept my promise not to reveal the stealing incident. He then returned to Saudi Arabia for 10 days.
Coming back from the supermarket in the car a few days after the fathers departure, I was surprised to observe the boy getting into the back of the car rather than the front seat – I wondered if I had upset him in some way. During the journey I observed sweets being eaten surreptitiously. I wont bore you with the denials, tears, admission and promises of future honesty, suffice it to say Justin was in for another painful thrashing. Go and fetch the whip. Ill be in the drawing room, I order as we get out of the car. I then sit in one of the enormous chairs and await the childs return. He hands me the whip nervously. A softer-hearted man might have flinched from the thought of applying this savage little instrument to the bare flesh of such an angelic boy: his mane of long brown hair with its fringe trailing into his big hazel eyes, his pretty little face with its slightly pouting mouth – how could one strip and beat such a sweet child? Very easily is my no-nonsense reply! I have 32 years experience of the mischief, mayhem and downright evil angelic little boys can get up to!
He stands biting his lips, staring at the carpet.
Remove your T-shirt and take off your sandals. Now wearing only his short denim shorts (in 1974 boys wore proper shorts) he looks at me, perhaps hoping to keep them protecting his bottom.
Shorts off. The boy hands them to me and I fold them neatly. I indicate to him to come closer to my chair, then allow myself the liberty of pulling his little white underpants down his slim golden legs. I pick them up, still warm from his body, and add them to the pile of clothing.
He really is a beautifully made little boy. Slender, well-muscled, well-proportioned – and, I cant help noticing, well-endowed for a boy of his age. I vacate my chair, which I have decided to turn into the flogging block. I take the frightened boy gently by the neck and tell him to kneel on the front of the chair, facing the backrest.
Head down. I make sure it is wedged into the back of the seat, and position his arms so that he is grasping the back of the chair – it may help the unfortunate boy take the pain that is approaching him.
Push your bottom high, please, Justin. You now have two minutes thinking time, then I am going to deliver 10 lashes to your dishonest little bottom.
I do enjoy this short period of viewing the buttocks I am about to punish, my eye roving up the slender golden thighs to the whiter skin that will take the bulk of the thrashing. I have let the boy keep his legs close together for his whipping.
Please can you make one of your cold towels, he asks, and I agree to do that. Returning from the kitchen I go straight up to his small body and run my hands over the firm, taut bottom. I imagine the whip will have an intense initial bite, but I do wonder if it has enough weight to cause longer-lasting pain. We shall see.
I tap the pale little bottom with the handle to signal to the child to prepare himself for the onslaught. I land the first lash with only medium strength, but even that elicits an agonized squeal. I remind the boy that cries and whimpers cut no ice with me, and lay the second lash slightly harder and lower. Im starting to get the feel of the whip, and get a rhythm to my punishment of the boy: Im whipping slowly, moving from the centre of the little boys bottom to the lower buttock, then going high. By the seventh or eight stroke his bottom is a mass of lash marks.
Last one, Justin, I murmur eventually, and lay it on hard and in the dead centre of his bottom. I help the little boy stand up – hes a bit shaky – and watch him clutch his backside, his little hands sliding round the buttocks trying vainly to undo the work of the lash.
Up to your room till dinner. The naked child obeys, hands still massaging his bottom. I collect his clothes then go to the fridge to get the cold towel. The boy is lying on his bed on his stomach when I enter his room. There are no tears – hes tough little chap. I sit on the bed and run my hands softly over the bottom I have just whipped, enjoying its softness and warmth.
Spread your legs apart, Justin. I open out the towel, lay it across the middle of the boys body and tenderly push the soothing cloth between his bottom cheeks and into the region where buttock, upper thigh and scrotum meet.
You took your beating well, Justin. Get dressed and come down to dinner at 7 oclock.