Copyright Silverbirch Productions 2010I am forced at times to recall My own Grandmother and her methods of control over My brothers. Being of strict Victorian values and morals, Grandmother was not averse to meting out copious quantities of discipline and corporal punishment to My brothers by her own hand when necessary. She most vigorously employed preventative measures as well, and often.
Growing up with such a fine upstanding figure as Grandmother for a role model certainly impressed upon Me the importance of maintaining impeccable manners and a flawless character. One could hardly expect soundness of character from those who practiced such a debauched and depraved act as self-abasement.
Grandmother took the responsibility of punitive action very seriously and would deliver punishments with full formal ritual and ceremony. Never did she succumb to outburst of anger or loss of control over her icy, dignified demeanour. Punishments in our house were very solemn occasions and most assuredly to be feared and avoided at all costs.
However, despite the severity of those punishments, there were many opportunities for Grandmother to employ her treasured methods of correction, for My brothers were boys with furtive habits. Upon detection of their filthy pastime, her mouth would become set in a grim line, her bosom thrust outward and her back ramrod straight in anticipation of the task at hand. She would attend immediately to preparations for punishment.
One brother was never punished without the other. Whether he was a co-conspirator of a misdeed and himself due for a thrashing or merely an innocent party, now duty bound and forced to witness the fate of his sibling. It was Grandmother's way of enforcing her authority.
In the event of a punishment to be carried out, Grandmother would announce the hour of My brothers' fate during dinner. She was frugal with words, so the announcement was nothing more than the command to present themselves in the study at the hour of her selection after meal that evening. That way, everyone at the table would be fully aware of what was to take place, adding a further degree of humiliation to their predicament. Not one word would be uttered about either the misdeed or punishment prior to that announcement at the dinner table. Quite obviously, My brothers would lose their appetites immediately and proceed with dinner in a most dejected manner.
They knew better than to try to draw out their time at the dinner table for that alone attracted immediate retribution on top of the original penalty. After they were excused from the table, they were to take themselves into our father's study and wait patiently in front of the walnut desk. They were not allowed to speak to one another and were instructed to stand back to back, although not touching, facing the book lined walls of the room. And there they had to wait in silence, contemplating their doom. The wait was never less than one hour.
The study was a male bastion, a masculine haven. The books lining the walls were old and mostly leather bound volumes. The desk was heavy and worn with age but still grand with it's leather inlay and gold leaf decoratively bordering the leather. It sat on a luxurious Persian rug which almost covered the entire floor. Father's favourite pipes sat in their cradle positioned on the desk ready for selection and to be filled with the tobacco which, when lit, filled the room with it's aromatic bouquet. Behind the desk loomed his massive overstuffed high backed leather chair, the brass upholstery studs winking in the light of the lamp on the desk. The room at night always seemed to beckon you with it's warmth. On winter evenings there was always a fire burning and crackling in the hearth, adding to the ambiance of the room.
Except on punishment nights. On those occasions, the study looked ominous and had about it an air of foreboding, for beyond the portal of the room lay the items responsible for a most cruel and harrowing castigation. I'm sure My brothers felt no warmth from the fire, instead, feeling only the chill of fear and dread, waiting nervously and listening for the sound of those heels, beating a staccato on the parquetry floor as they approached the study. Their dinner I'm sure, now sitting like lead in their stomachs.
Positioned upon the desk were her instruments of correction, evidence of her preparations. A silver chalice which sat prominently on the desk held a pungent and foul smelling lotion. Grandmother's thick, worn, heavy leather strap lay alongside the glistening chalice. This was her preferred implement of correction. Thick bundles of twine and a large wooden ruler were also among the array of arranged articles. Inanimate objects, but the very sight of them was horrifying enough to send chills down the spines of My brothers.
Finally, Grandmother would finish the last mouthful of her cup of tea, smooth down her dress after standing from the table and begin to make her way to the study. It seemed that the only sounds in the house at that time were the sounds of her heels clicking as she walked and the 'tick tock' of our Grandfather clock.
The study door was deliberately left open while the punishment was being delivered, serving as a reminder to other siblings in the house to behave as directed.
Her ritual was always the same. 'Eyes to Me' she'd snap in a clear but cold voice as she entered the room. My brothers would jump with fright but have to turn and face her, remaining still while she swept past them to reach for the ruler on the desk. Returning to stand in front of them now she'd order them to drop their trousers to their ankles 'quick smart', followed by a stern warning that any snivelling would afford them a generous dose of castor oil each. The supreme humiliation of standing before Grandmother with their private parts on display heralded the commencement of their punishment.
Both males would now be shivering in fright and regretting deeply their indiscretions. Their apparent remorse was always treated with disdain by Grandmother and one could safely assume that she was indifferent to their plight.
The punishment now under way and affording them no more respite, Grandmother would order 'punishment positions!' For this the brothers had to turn and face each other. She directed one brother to hold tightly the tip of his brother's penis. It had to be stretched taut, which in itself looked agonising. Grandmother would stand facing the two hapless boys and when she was ready, she would bring that ruler down like a Samurai sword, a dozen or more times upon the taut penis. Blow after blow she brought it down, remaining totally impassive during her task, disregarding the wails, tears and screams of pain. They didn't dare pull away.
Grandmother was an expert when it came to applying punishment. The skill and accuracy in which she was able to make each stroke land precisely where she wanted it was, to say the least, surprising given her senior years. Intent on achieving pure agony, she would continue on relentlessly, despite My brother's anguished screams.
When it was over for him, it now became the other's turn to suffer a similar fate. Often times it was worse for the second victim because he not only witnessed at close range the misfortune of the other, but was forced to participate in his brother's demise; the punishment made possible by his own reluctant helping hand. All the while, as he watched his brother suffer at the hands of his torturous Grandmother, his stomach was knotted with fear at the sure knowledge that he was next.
Finally, when this part of the penalisation was over, even as the boys were sobbing with pain and self-pity, the next segment of the punishment was being prepared. The desk was cleared and the first boy was grabbed viciously by the ear and led blubbering to face the desk, his trousers still around his ankles. 'Bend forward' was the directive. Arms outstretched, facing forward and body resting across the desk, raised bare buttocks, he waited in terror for those few precious moments until she was ready. The other one was commanded to stand behind the desk, facing his sibling to watch his trouncing while holding him firmly in position. He was to secure his hands and if necessary, push down on the shoulders if he tossed and twisted too much while he was receiving that dreadful strapping.
Grandmother loved that strap I'm sure, as I was never privy to any display of affection shown by her to any object either living or not, other than that strap. She handled it with obvious reverence and the boys were clearly in awe of it. And they had good reason.
Taking up her position behind those raised buttocks, strap resting harmlessly in both her hands, there was a moment of silence while she judged her distance. The only sound now the tick tock of the Grandfather clock echoing along the hallway as the boys waited for what seemed like an eternity. Not wanting the time to go any faster, but their nerves were screaming out, desperate to break the tension by getting on with the punishment. Slowly raising the strap over her left shoulder she would alert the brother facing her and in turn, his outstretched brother to the imminent dawn of the fearsome flogging. It had begun.
CRACK!
The first stroke had met the creamy flesh of my brother's buttocks. The strap fell like a lightening bolt, leaving a livid mark as it left the skin, and him hollering and bawling like a motherless calf. Tears would stream down the miscreant's face as the next stroke came down. There was no stopping once that terrible thrashing began. She would swing that formidable implement from left to right across his bottom, alternating the direction of the swing with each blow, left to right, then right to left on the next stroke, until the flesh was bruised, blistered and swollen. It was if she was conscienceless regarding the writhing, screaming form beneath her impassive gaze. There certainly was no sympathy shown towards the two, nor enough pain-filled cries to deter her from her task.
No less than two dozen, and more often than not it was three dozen strokes of the strap that they each had to endure. Needless to say, when the first was dealt with they were ordered curtly to change positions. Once in their new places the second brother took his turn with that frightful strap. His screams of pain and humiliation at such an appalling walloping were no less than his brother's.
After the strapping was complete and Grandmother was satisfied with her handiwork, she would quietly replace the strap upon the desk and place the chalice and bundles of twine on a tray, ignoring the sobbing, subdued forms of My brothers. "Get those trousers up and get up to your rooms," she'd snap. Bodies racked with pain and suffering, they did as they were bid and shuffled solemnly and carefully towards the stairwell, knowing full well there was more to come. Walking like condemned men about to ascend the gallows, they shuffled their way up the stairs and to their separate rooms.
"Undress immediately and get into those beds," came the command from behind them as they climbed and on reaching their respective rooms, once more they cautiously removed their trousers, unable to fight back tears of dread while preparing for another harrowing round of punishment.
When they were ensconced in their beds she'd come in. One at a time she would deal with each. I spied once from the safety of the darkened hall, the cringing form of My brother in his bed with the bed sheets drawn tightly up to his chin. in a pathetic gesture. The look of terror on his face. told a grim story. Grandmother was both silent and unfazed by his display of cowardice and savagely ripped the sheets from his hands, wrenching them back to expose his shrinking, naked body.
She bound his wrists individually and secured them to the posts of the bed above his head while he made simpering, ineffectual noises. The same was done with each ankle. Spreadeagled, he lay there trying to twist his body in a futile attempt to escape the contents of the chalice. His eyes were fixed on the glinting vessel as it neared the bed, ferried there by one whose heart was as stone and whose resolve was unyielding.
It was obvious that the sharp, tangy smell reached his nostrils long before Grandmother dipped her fingers into the balm contained in the chalice, for he turned his head away from her as she neared the bed with it. He soon jerked his head back in her direction when he felt her smearing a hefty dollop of the greasy medicament all over his penis. His face was a look of horror as he stared at his pathetic penis, embalmed now with the evil Oil of Wintergreen.
I too could smell the unmistakable smell of Wintergreen and watched with intense curiosity as she placed her tray on the bedside table and pulled a chair close to the bed. Sitting down now after her efforts, she seemed more stoic than ever I'd seen her. What was she doing?
After a few minutes My brother began to squirm and the hint of a smile, fleeting as it was, came upon Grandmother's lips. It was a rare moment indeed to witness that. My brother started to thrash about on the bed quite violently. His yell, when it came, frightened Me and sounded like a bull elephant. He appeared as though he was in excruciating agony from whatever pain that cream was inflicting upon his private parts.
I think that when Grandmother was convinced of the authenticity of his pain and torment she felt it was safe to leave her charge to endure his anguish alone in the dark. Decision made, she left the room, carrying her tray into the room of My other brother to duplicate her actions with him.
I watched for close to an hour, the twisting, tossing body on the bed as it continued to distort while the Wintergreen persisted to burn into his private parts. I shall never forget the sound of his wails that night. Eventually the effects appeared to subside and he fell still and silent. I left quietly and crept into My own room to savour every minute detail of what I had covertly witnessed.
Grandmother was a figure to be respected. Sadly, she has passed on now and My brothers have both grown into fine upstanding citizens with families of their own. But those days have been etched into our memories like nothing else. Even now when we speak of Grandmother, it is with the same awe and certain fear as we spoke of her when she was alive. It's as if she governs our thinking and our actions from her grave, so deep was the impression she made upon us and the lessons that were instilled by her.
She was a staunch, uncompromising citizen with scrupulous standards. She was the Matriarch in our family, her presence omnipotent. My brothers suffered many dire punishments, but I believe that her methods no doubt made their mark to the benefit of My brothers, as shown by their current positions. Every male needs the guidance of a firm handler to instill the precious Rules of Etiquette and gentlemanly conduct to ensure that he grows into a fine upstanding citizen. A person who does not burden himself upon society as a layabout or by achieving a state of mental disease through debauched acts of self-abasement.
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