"Poor boy," said Pani Felicia, patting Marek on the head, " you'll get it again."
The young man didn't answer but just jerked his head.
"Here are the nettles," said Gracia, coming up.
The maid handed the aunt gloves and a bunch of nettles. She went to the bench and sat on Marek's back so that the young man could not escape during the spanking.
"You will have to ask the girls to forgive you," the aunt said in a stern voice.
Marek turned his head and saw Pani Felicia standing by the bench with a bunch of nettles in her hand. His aunt was wearing a blue sundress with white polka dot. The sarafan covered her knees, and the young man could see the smooth full calves of the aunt and her strong ankles. Through the branches of the apple tree the white light of midday shone on Pani Felicia. Frowning and pursing her lips, the aunt made a low gesture with her hand and whipped Marek's buttocks with nettles. The young man gasped. His aunt whipped him again and again. The nettles stung more and more. Marek spun on the bench, wobbling his thin ass, trying to avoid the stinging kisses of nettles. And the aunt whipped him without hurrying.
The girls began to whisper about something, then Irenka laughed out loudly. At that moment, Marek hated her.
"Apologize!" reminded Pani Felicia.
With one hand Gracia grabbed Marek by the hair on the top of his head and forced him to raise his head. Marek saw the girls standing by the bench. The pannochkies were watching the punishment with interest and excitement. Lyudmila's thick black eyebrows were raised in a surprise and she was breathing excitedly and biting her lower lip. And Irenka looked at Marek with a mocking smile.
"I'm sorry," Marek whispered… sorry for spying on you.... I'll never do it again…"
His voice was trembling and choking. The young man's buttocks were covered with purple blisters from nettle burns. "Don't cry, "Marek told himself, "don't cry! Don't let them see you crying!"
The aunt lashed the young man with nettles on his thighs, back, and under his knees. Marek mumbled and squirmed his stomach the bench, but he didn't cry…
In the evening the young man lay on a bed in his outhouse under a thin sheet. Marek tried not to scratch the blisters. His buttocks, legs and back were on fire. The torture had been going on for several hours.