The first time I received the cane was at my Aunt Evelyn’s house. Aunt Evelyn lived at the edge of a woods, where I would play with her son Allen and her daughter Elizabeth, who was the same age as me.
On this particular occasion, it was a perfect summer day and we had a wonderful time swimming at a small pond in the middle of a glade. However, our perfect day was spoiled when we realised that we were about an hour overdue back at the house.
We all three ran as fast as we could but Aunt Evelyn was waiting for us in the kitchen. We stood there in our wet bathing suits, trying to make excuses but from the scared look on my cousins’ faces, I knew we were in big trouble. Aunt Evelyn eventually pointed to the study, and Allen and Elizabeth quietly moved that way and I followed.
Allen said we were going to get the cane for sure and Elizabeth began to sob a bit. We stood there, still in our wet bathing suits, until Aunt Evelyn came in with a wicked looking cane. My mother spanked me but she used a hairbrush or slipper and I had never felt the cane. However, from the look on the other two’s faces, I knew it wasn’t going to be a good experience.
My aunt told Allen to get a chair, and ordered us girls to stand over to the side. Slowly, Allen moved a chair to the centre of the room and he bent over the back of it, placing his hands on the seat.
As soon as Allen had got into position, Aunt Evelyn asked: “Haven’t you forgotten something?” A pained and frantic look rushed over Allen’s face while he pleaded: “Mom, please – not in front of them!” Aunt Evelyn was unmoved. “The current count is six, but I can soon double that, young man!”
At those words, Allen prepared himself. This was an embarrassment for him and a shock for me.
Aunt Evelyn gave him (and, indirectly, us) a long lecture about being home on time and Allen was soon stiff, treating me also to my first view of boy in such a condition, as his face turned bright red.
Aunt Evelyn tapped his bottom with the cane several times, making her son squirm, before she raised the rod and with a swoosh smacked it across the middle as hard as she could. Allen’s bottom rippled under the stroke and a loud groan came from his mouth, followed by crying as he shuffled from one foot to another.
The second and third strokes left Allen hopping in place from one foot to another, as angry welts were raised on his butt. He clenched and unclenched his buttocks as he sobbed uncontrollably.
The fourth stroke landed lower on my cousin’s bottom, and he let out a yelp and his legs started to tremble. Elizabeth was crying too now. However, while I was afraid, I was also mesmerised by the process.
The fifth and six strokes came in quick succession on Allen’s lower butt and upper thighs, and made him really howl. He finally stood, his face scrunched up in obvious distress and snot and tears pouring from it.
Aunt Evelyn now pointed to Elizabeth who moved toward the chair, her legs visibly trembling. With tears running down her face, she plaintively asked” “Must I?” Her mother simply replied: “Now!” I felt fear begin to really hit home.
She bent over the chair like her brother had and waited for the first stroke. She let out a scream as her butt and legs shivered in agony. The next two strokes each landed a little further down her bottom, each one leaving a horrid, swollen red mark that bruised a bit and caused her to cry out when they landed. Her pleading went unnoticed as the caning continued.
By the sixth stroke, Elizabeth was bawling uncontrollably and her mother had to help her to stand against the wall afterwards, with six angry welts crossing my cousin’s backside.
Now Aunt Evelyn pointed at me. She led me to the chair and pushed me into position. I was shivering in fear as she tapped my butt with the cane and then told me to brace myself.
I heard a whoosh through the air and then felt a sting in my butt that quickly grew into the most horrible pain I had ever felt. I jumped up screaming. I grabbed my bottom with both hands as I twisted in pain and tears rolled down my cheeks.
Aunt Evelyn grabbed me by the neck and put me back into position. “Hold on to the seat of the chair and let’s try that stroke again.”
Again, I heard the cane whistle through the air and felt my butt explode in pain. I struggled to stay in position as my legs trembled and tears and snot began to fill my face. Each stroke felt like a red-hot iron was being pressed against my butt and I shrieked and fought to stay in position.
Finally, the last and seventh stroke landed on my upper thighs and I nearly collapsed. My aunt grabbed me by the arm and took me over to stand against the wall. Any concerns of modesty, standing there in the buff next to her son and daughter, were overpowered by the sheer agony of the throbbing in my backside.
After about 10 minutes, Aunt Evelyn told us to go to our rooms. The fire in my bottom had overpowered my senses and each step hurt as I slowly walked off.
When we got to our room, Elizabeth and I lay face down on our beds and cried for a good long time. Aunt Evelyn came in a little later and ordered us to go to bed.
My bottom was sore for the entire next day and sitting was a very uncomfortable event. That was my first caning and I was determined it was going to be my last.
