Frank and Mark Scott were arguing. It was stupid, really. Frank had done all his chores, but his brother hadn't. Mark wanted to go out and demanded from his older sibling to bring out the garbage. Frank didn't see why. It wasn't his responsibility. Their mother Mary was attracted by the noise. "What is going on," She asked sharply. "Frank doesn't want to bring out the trash." Mark accused his brother. Both knew their mother was going to believe Mark. Frank gritted his teeth. Mary Scott had reminded them numerous times, that the trash was still there and she wanted it gone. Frank gave in. The trash was kept in a cupboard and just to annoy his mother he closed the cupboard door with his foot and a loud bang. She gave him an icy stare. "Why can't you simply do something without arguing?" Frank answered between gritted teeth: "Maybe I like arguing and besides my brother is a sloth and I'm in trouble for it. Lovely!" He brought out the trash. His mother was waiting angrily. "Don't talk in that tone with me or your brother!" Frank was over towering his mother by a foot "You don't deserve it differently." Mary kept her temper barely under check. "Go to your room and don't you dare come out until your father or I allow it!" Frank resigned. "Yes, ma'am."
Sixteen year old Frank was doing his homework. It was already getting dark, and he was hungry. There was a knock on the door. He expected his father, but it was his brother. "I've brought you some food." Frank gave Mark an angry stare, returning his attention to his homework. "Look, I'm sorry." Frank snorted. He believed Mark had been malicious. "I wanted to go out and would have been grounded, if I hadn't done my chores." "Idiot! Why didn't you bring out the garbage on the way? It could have saved us a lot of trouble." "You know I hate bringing out the trash." "And? I don't like ironing and still do it without complaining. It's lost on Mom unfortunately." Frank was closer to their father, while Mark was nearer to their mother. "I know, it's not an excuse, but I was so looking forward to meet my friends." Frank sighed. "Well, what done is, is done, I guess. Still you have to make up for it." "Of course I will." "What were you thinking about?" Before Mark could answer, there was another knock on the door. "Come in." Frank shouted. It was their father Davis Scott. "Your mother told me about the events this evening. What do you have to say for yourself?" "Dad, I..." "Yes, Mark?" "I lied. Frank had done his chores." Mark's shoulders slumped. It had taken him a lot of courage to admit his mistake. Frank stared at him open mouthed. If he had been in Mark's position, he would have kept quiet. "Okay, Frank, what about you?" Davis asked. Frank admitted he had been talking back. "Okay, I think, you better follow me both to the office."
"Frank, can you tell Mark, what your punishment would look like?" "I would probably get four strokes with the cane for lying and two for not doing my chores." "You have it absolutely right, so if I have calculated correctly, that makes six." Mark blanched, hearing this and swallowed hard. "Now, Frank, how many would you say I should give you for arguing with your mother?" Frank knew the answer to that as well. "Two." "The candidate has one hundred points." Mr. Scott said, smiling. "Okay, Mark, you can expect six strokes. Frank, I'll start with you." "Dad, with all due respect, can Mark receive his set first?" "Ah, you want to enjoy the show?" Davis Scott asked ironic. Frank had his reasons, but wanting to watch wasn't really behind it. Mark blushed furiously and was about to protest. "Okay, Mark, let's begin with you then." Mark knew better than to trifle with his father. It was the first time he was going to be spanked with a cane. He was unsure, what he should do. "Okay, get rid of your pants, bend over the desk and hold on to the opposite end." Davis Scott advised after seeing Mark's questioning look. Mark obeyed. He was two years younger than Frank and had received only a combination of hand spankings and the slipper. It was different with Frank. He had been caned since he was ten. His father had always been a tougher on him than his brother. Maybe it was in exchange for being his favorite son.
Davis Scott owned two canes, both were around the same length of three feet, one was thinner, the other thicker. Frank preferred the thinner. It hurt maybe more in the beginning, but the welts faded faster and the bruises weren't that pronouncened. If he had been in the dog house for what Mark had done, he was sure his father would have used the thicker cane and delivered eight strokes, not forgetting the talking back, without mercy. Now Davis chose the thinner cane. Both were kept in the cupboard, based in Davis' office. Dark haired Frank was leaning against the wall. Mark's and Frank's father took a step behind the bent over red haired boy, testing and taking measure. Mark didn't like, his brother was there, watching everything, nor being in this uncomfortable position. The edge of the desk pressed hard into his stomach. He hoped it was over quickly and didn't hurt too much. He wished, he had denied everything. The first stroke took Mark by surprise. He gasped and buckled. Davis Scott waited patiently until Mark was in position again. The next stroke landed a few inches below the first and the pain of the two seemed to merge. It was incredible and Mark cried out, his eyes filling with tears. He wouldn't, no he wouldn't cry! Mark was determined. When the pain was ebbing, it reached another peak with the arrival of the third stroke. Mark's bottom throbbed. He couldn't stay in position and was up, rubbing his behind furiously. No matter how hard he tried, a tear escaped and was flowing down his cheek. Embarrassed he whisked it away and doggedly bent over again. "Thank you, Mark." Their father didn't expect, they took their punishment silent, or if they felt the need to get up between strokes, he let them all the time they needed to recover and take the rest. Frank would have preferred not to watch. He had jumped after each stroke Mark received. His bottom was tingling. Frank knew, what was coming and hated the wait. Considering it was his brother's first caning, Frank thought, Mark took it pretty well, though. Mark didn't. He was angry with Frank, too, and swore he was getting even with his older brother.
Davis took his time, carefully thinking where to place the fourth stroke. He had aimed the first two at the upper end of Marks' buttocks and one at the sit spots. He decided for the center of Mark's well rounded behind. Mark arched his back, but stayed in position and screamed at the top of his lungs, when the cane reached its target. As much as he wanted, he couldn't stop the tears. It was only a small comfort that only two more swats were to come. Again the cane bit into the soft skin of Mark's behind. He was jumping up, clutching his hot bottom. More tears were flowing and he thought he couldn't bend over again. His buttocks were so sore! "Mark, if you prefer, you can get your last stroke on your hand." His father suggested gentle, knowing there was no space of untouched skin and the last stripe was going to overlap with the others, making it very painful. "Can I put in something?" Frank asked. "Of course you can." Davis replied. Mark didn't want to turn or hear any of it. His shoulders nearly touched his ears, his back facing his father and brother. "I think the pain is going to be roughly the same. If you take it on the hand, the stripe might be visible to others, so if you want to save yourself some embarrassment and explaining how you got that, it might be better to take it on your backside." With a deep sigh Mark bent over for the third time. The cane made a last swishing sound and landed diagonally on the other stripes. Mark screamed again. He didn't move. "Mark, we are finished. Whenever you are ready, you can get up and dressed." His father released him. Mark brushed away the tears and was still sniffling, when he got up. His father touched him briefly on the shoulder and said: "You have been very brave. Don't go, though, until I'm done with Frank." Addressing Frank, he said: "Please step forward." Frank's face was unreadable. He was too much focused on his immediate punishment to say anything to his brother, who had pulled up his pants, his briefs feeling too tight and even the slightest friction caused a new wave of pain. Mark moved to the spot, where Frank had been waiting, but didn't lean back.
Without any hesitation, Frank unbuttoned his trousers, letting them slide down to his knees, then dropped his boxer shorts as well and got into position. Mark was surprised and blinked once or twice. He had seen right. Why would Frank bare his behind? Dad hadn't asked him, Mark, to do it.
Davis moved to the front of the desk, so Frank could see him. "Okay, Frank. I think we had this conversation numerous times. I know your mother wasn't fair and let only Mark explain. It was very trying, but you are old enough to have your temper under check. So unfortunately I find myself warming your behind. Do you really think I like doing it?" "No, sir. I'm sorry, sir." "I hope, you learn your lesson now and I won't have to spank you for the same offence again." "I'll try my best, sir." "Very well. Are you ready for your medicine?" "Yes, sir." Frank simply wanted to get over with it. He was relieved his father didn't see it necessary to pick up the other cane. Davis took his place. Without any warning or testing, Davis raised the cane over his head and brought it down with a loud crack. Frank took it silently, but grimaced. The stroke hurt badly. The second cut was following very quickly and Frank caught his breath. It seemed to have been harder than the first one. Having his emotions better under control, he didn't cry. Not yet. Keeping him not longer, Davis allowed Frank to get up. "Before you go to your rooms and lick your wounds, please apologize to your mother."
Both didn't want to face their mother right now, but obliged. Their father would have invited them for another round with the cane and neither of them wanted that. Mary accepted the apology graciously and hugged both teenagers, sending them on their way.
The brothers had never before watched how one of them was "getting it". They found it both humiliating and didn't want to repeat the experience.
"Why the hell did you ask Dad to whip me first? I hate you!" Mark burst out, when they were out of ear shot. Had he felt up to it, he would have punched Frank. His bottom stung too much and every movement hurt. He couldn't wait until he got rid of his underpants. Frank shrugged. They had reached his room. "Wait a sec, and I'll explain it." Frank let the door open and Mark saw him rummage in one of his drawers. Frank returned with a tube. "Your room or mine?" "Mine." Mark replied. In his room, Mark asked aggressively: "Are you going to answer?" "Sure, get rid of your pants and underpants." "Not in your presence." Frank shrugged again. "Suit yourself. I'm only trying to help you." "And how?" Mark asked sarcastic. Frank showed his brother the tube he had brought along. "That's arnica cream. It's good against bruises. Ice cubes would be better, of course." Their parents wouldn't have allowed the use of ice. It would have eased and shortened the pain, and the punishment was there as a reminder to behave. Well, they wouldn't approve of the cream either, but what they didn't know, wouldn't disturb them.
Frank saw Mark's look at the tube and threw it to him. "If you want, I'll turn round, but I've seen your butt before..." "If you would, please." "Alright. Well, to answer your other question: I thought you were frightened enough by the prospect of getting six cuts, it was your first time and waiting would have only enforced it. I, on the other side, knew exactly what to expect. Not that I enjoyed the waiting, mind. Seeing me getting it, wouldn't make it easier for you to bend over." "Ha, I don't believe you did it out of altruistic motives! You wanted to see, how I was spanked." "Nope, I didn't have any fun watching and never intended to witness your humiliation and pain. I had preferred waiting outside." "Okay, you can turn. Why did you..." "Why I dropped my boxers?" Frank asked. His brother nodded. "Well, Mark, Dad always canes me on the bare, so I knew the drill." After a short pause he added: "Thanks for telling the truth. You offered to make up for it; you have, in my view." "Would you have taken the blame, if I hadn't?" "Yes. One of us getting punished was enough, in my opinion. Okay, dearest, I'll leave you. If you need more cream, let me know."
In his own room, Frank undressed and took care of his own stripes. Using the cream hurt and at the same time was pure bliss. Frank relaxed and let go of the iron grip on his emotions. He allowed himself a few tears.
Mark had a lot of thinking to do. His brother was sometimes an enigma to him. He learned, though, better to stand to his mistakes and not let others pay for it.
©2011
No comments:
Post a Comment