Patrick had been sent to bed after his bath and was lying face down, weeping into his pillow. Each cane mark seemed to be throbbing individually, especially those across his thighs. Bruckner had washed him thoroughly and not spared his tender bottom, so that the throbbing had increased when he had rubbed him dry. The additional spanks he got during the entire procedure hadnt helped any.
He had been lying there for hours, twisting and turning, but no matter how he positioned his naked body, he never felt comfortable and the burning had not abated much.
He thought he heard some tiptoeing in the hall and lifted his head to listen. Yes, apparently his sister and her friend had come home. As they approached his door, they were giggling softly. When the boy heard the door knob turn, he held his breath, pretending to be asleep. The door opened slowly and the two girls slipped into the dark room.
Hey, Patrick, are you asleep? Susie whispered rather loudly and Marge giggled. Patrick didnt move but felt his bottom tingling. The door was closed and the light were turned on, leaving Patrick squeezing his eyes shut
This is my brother, Patrick, Susie whispered. I told you he got a good spanking earlier this evening. Now I am going to show you his bottom so youll believe me that my Dad uses a cane on him all the time.
Patrick hadnt moved during this exchange but he was aghast. He wanted to scream at the girls to get out of his room, but didnt dare. If his father heard him, he would get another thrashing, something he was trying to avoid every day with little success.
Oh, come on, little brother, Susie teased, we know youre not asleep. I bet his little bottom is still feeling the effects of the cane, arent you, Patrick?
Yes, Marge added, grinning, show me or I wont believe hat Susie tells me about your daily whippings.
At last Patrick gave up. He turned painfully on his side and blinked up at them. Please leave me alone, he said softly but emphatically. Im not going to show you anything. Now get out.
Aw, all right, then, Susie said and made as if to open the door. Then she swiftly turned and yanked the thin sheet of the boy. Patrick yelled.
Hey, stop that!? he shouted, trying to cover himself front and back without accomplishing either. Give me back my blanket!
Susie opened the door and threw the sheet out into the hall. Go and get it, she said, laughing. Patrick remained cowering on his bed, curled up like a baby.
Get out, he said again, close to tears.
First you show us your bottom, then well go, Marge said.
Patrick thought for a moment but saw no other way out. Reluctantly he turned on his stomach again and displayed his well-marked buttocks to the girls. His face flushed a deep red as he waited for them to get an eyeful of his bruises.
Wow! Marge exclaimed in awe, that was some beating he got.
Oh, thats nothing, Susie shrugged. Hes gotten considerably worse on many occasions. Just a dozen tonight. Patrick shouldnt carry on so much.
Give me back my blanket, Patrick wailed, curling up again.
What is going on here? came the loud, irritated voice of Bruckner. He stood, hair disheveled, wearing a dressing gown, looking definitely very angry.
The girls came into my room, Patrick whined. They took away my blanket and wouldnt give it back.
Is that true, Susie? he asked, looking at the girls.
We just got home and wanted to say goodnight to Patrick. I told Marge that Patrick was punished and she wanted proof. Patrick refused and we took the sheet away. Thats all.
So why all the noise, Patrick? Bruckner glowered at the naked boy on the bed. Why not simply do as youre told without all this noise? Didnt I warn you not to make a noise at night? Cant you ever listen when youre told to do something?
But, sir - Patrick started, but Bruckner interrupted.
Silence! Susie, Marge, you both now leave and get ready for bed. Its after midnight and I want to get back to sleep. Ill talk to you tomorrow about this behaviour. And you, Patrick, will get a taste of the tawse tomorrow for arguing with your sister.
With that he escorted the girls out of the room, turned off the light and closed the door. Patrick was left thinking about that thick, three-tailed leather strap that was kept near the cane stand. These thought did not help the boy fall asleep.
The next morning they all met at breakfast. Bruckner had overseen Patricks ablutions in the bathroom, watched him dress in his usual shorts and sport shirt, ankle socks and slippers, then brought him to the breakfast table.
Anna, the housekeeper was just filling Bruckners cup with coffee. There was milk for the boy and tea for the girls. There was buttered toast and mermelade. The girls chattered animatedly while Bruckner watched with amusement, only occasionally joining with a small remark.
Patrick was quiet. The hard seat reminded him of his last spanking and the one he expected this morning. He thought about that tawse. It was different from the cane. When he got a whipping with the tawse, it was like being scalded with ot water again and again over the same area. This area would gradually warm up more and more as each stroke fell on the same area. Just when you thought the pain couldnt get any worse, another loud slap against the inflamed skin and the pain seemed to triple in intensity.
The cane, on the other hand, produced a deep, searing pain from the start but, depending on the number of strokes, was over relatively quickly. With the tawse, the increasing burn seemed to go on for ever. The boy nibbled at his toast and shifted his bottom in fearful anticipation.
Look, Susie, Marge grinned, pointing at the boy, your little brother is so quiet. I wonder why he doesnt join our conversation.
Is it possible his mind - such as it is - is wandering towards other topics?
I wonder what topic that might be, Marge giggled.
Patrick, Susie said, tell us what youre thinking about.
The boy bit his lips and didnt answer.
Boy, you will answer your sister and her friend politely when they ask you a question, Bruckner snapped, putting down his butter knife. Or do you need some extra lessons in manners this morning?
Patrick was once more close to tears. I was... thinking about the tawse, he finally mumbled, his face turning beet-red.
What about the tawse, Marge asked maliciously.
Patrick looked at his father who looked back expectantly.
I am going to be whipped with it, Patrick said in a small voice, his ears now flaming as well.
So? his sister inquired.
Im afraid of it. It hurts so much.
But its not the first time you experienced it, is it, Patrick? Marge said.
No.
How often do you get it, Patrick? Marge continued her interrogation.
Patricks eyes again shifted to his fathers. About - er - once a week, he muttered. It was more a question directly at his father.
Bruckner laughed. Three times a week is more likely, he laughed.
And dont you get used to it after a while? Marge went on.
No, I dont! Patrick almost shouted now, blushing a deep red all the way to his scalp. He seemed to be sweating.
Patrick! Bruckner thundered. Mind that tone of voice, young man, when youre addressing an elder. I will not have such rudeness, do you hear?
Y-yes, sir. Sorry, sir, the boy stammered.
Dont apologise to me, boy, Bruckner said coldly. You will apologize to the young ladies.
Patrick squirmed on his hard seat for a moment, struggling to get the words out. Im sorry, he said.
Thats not good enough, boy, his father admonished the boy. I want a full apology and explain what you did wrong.
After a moments thought, Patrick tried again. I apologize for my rudeness. I will be more polite from now on.
Thats better, Bruckner said. But you will get extra strokes with the tawse for this little episode. And I dont want a repetition. Is that understood?
Yes, sir, the boy mumbled unhappily.
Marge and Susie will come with us into the study so they can see for themselves how we deal with rude little boys who wont learn their lessons the easy way. I think well make it a dozen for the rudeness last night and another dozen for this mornings. What do you think, Marge?
The girl looked at the boys flushed face and grinned. I think that would be splendid. Ive never witnessed a boys whipping.
Oh, I have, Susie exclaimed. Many times. Havent I, Patrick? And always on that bare little behind of yours.
Arent you going to answer your sisters question, Patrick? Bruckner said menacingly.
Yes, yes, the boy gasped out quickly. Youve seen me being punished many times. Now the tears were slowly trickling down the boys cheeks.
Well, if you have finished your breakfast, lets retire to the study. With these words, Bruckner took the boy by the scruff of his neck and propelled him out the room towards the dreaded study. The girls followed excitedly behind, chattering gaily.