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Scamp was brought home after being rescued by his father, Tramp, from Buster and even had his new crush, Angel living with him but Scamp new he was in major trouble.

"By leaving home the way you did," said Tramp to his son, "not only did you bring your mother and me to a lot of grief, you could have been seriously hurt, even killed. You were putting yourself at risk. But you also had Angel to think about. If something had happened to you she would have been a target. You really were STUPID, son! What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I wanted to live like a stray." Scamp said.

Tramp shook his head. "When I was young I was just like you. I know your head is full of rpmantic notions of 'living on the road,' making frienships that will last a lifetime, living just a little outside of the law, and most importantly, being independent. But let me tell you, those friends you make are gone the morning after you get them; the law is working day and night to round up and impound strays, and as far as independence is concerned, well independence alone doen't put food in your bowl.

"We're back were we started, maybe I'll run away again." Scamp said.

"Yes," said Tramp, "we're arguing again. But that's common among families. And yes, you can run away again. But Scamp, if you run away again simply because of an argument, and put your and Angel's lives in danger--then Scamp, you are a fool

"Why don't you just tan my hide like your usually do?" Scamp asked, mockingly.

"I honestly thought you were getting too old for that," said Tramp, "but I guess not. But I'm not only going to tan your hide, Scamp. I'm restricting you big time, and you're not going to do anything "fun" for the next two weeks, not so much as listen to the radio. You're going to be confined to your room--and you won't see Angel until your time is up."

Scamp gulped, hard. Not only was he going to be tanned, he wouldn't be able to see his girlfriend for two whole weeks. Angel tried to intervene.

"Please, Tramp," she said,"can't you lighten Scamp's "sentence" so that he will be able to see me in one week instead of two? I live for his company."

"I'm sorry, my dear," said Tramp, "but you'll survive, and so will Scamp. He needs to know that he can't play fast and loose with his safety, and with yours. Scamp, you asked for it and you're going to get it. I'm going to whip your butt, right in front of Angel."

Angel blushed; Scamp said nothing but prepared himself for his tanning. He did not even complain that it would take place in front of Angel.

Scamp got down on his front paws and rose his rump in the air. Part of Angel was exited to watch her new boyfriend get his butt busted.[/quote/]

Meanwhile Tramp retrieved the carpet beater from the was, put it in between his teeth and went to Scamp, whom he began whipping soundly.

"OWWWWWW!!!" yelled Scamp as his father proceeded. "I knew it would end up this way! I'm too old for this!--YOWWWWW!!!"

"No you're not!" said Tramp; "Besides, it doesn't matter HOW old you are! If you're going to act like a child and run away, you're going to be treatedI like one!"

"AHHHHH!" yelled Scamp at each sroke of the rug beater, "Stoppit! I didn't hurt anybody! Why should I get hurt!"

"Not true," said Tramp; "You hurt your mother and me. You deserve this!"

WHACK! SMACK! CRACK! WHAP! WHOP! WHAM! POW! BOOM! BAM!

"YOWWWWWW! Dad! Stoppit!"

Meanwhile, Angel looked on, not unsympathetic to Scamp but simultaneously fascinated with what was transpiring between Scamp and his dad.

Scamp tried to hold his pain in now. But he couldn't do that for long. "OWWWWW! Dad! Please not SO hard! You're gonna bust my butt till I can't sit down! Literally! YOWWWWWWW! STOPPIT! PLEASE! YOU'RE HURTIN' ME BIG TIME!"

"That's the idea, young man!" replied Tramp as he continued to beat his son's butt as hard as he could. "I AM going to bust your butt till you can't sit down--every time you TRY to sit down you're going to remember the consequences of running away! And as far as hurting you goes--well, isn't that the idea of a whipping?"

WHACK! SMACK! CRACK! WHOP! WHAM! WHAP! BAM! POW! SMACK! WHACK! CRACK!

"OWWWWWW! My butt's on fire! Angel! Don't look! I can see you out of the corner of my eye!"

Angel didn't say anything but she continued to watch in wide-eyed wonder.

"Sorry, son," said Tramp, "but humiliation is a big part of the punishment--"

"OWWWWWW! OUCH! YOWWWWWWW! Dad! Send her away! She shouldn't see her man-dog whipped like a little kid!"

WHAP. . . . POW! "OWWWWWWW!"

"I will do no such thing! You're a lot more of a kid than you are of a "man-dog"! One of your duties as the male mate is to set an example for your girl--and eventually the pups you have. Running away and joining a gang is one of the most immature things you can do! Real males don't run away from their problems. They stay and deal with them until they have been eliminated! You're setting a bad example for Angel. How does she know that you won't run away from her and the family and home you've established when things get rough?"

Tramp continued to whip his boy soundly while he was talking; he was not even out of breath. But Scamp's butt burned, and his father's words, said as they were in front of Angel while his butt was exposed, being whipped thoroughly by his father, made him ashamed. Tramp hoped this would happen.

WHACK!. . . . POW!. . . . SMACK!. . . . WHAM!. . . . SWAT!. . . . CRACK!. . . . WHAM!

"Dad!" pleaded Scamp, "Please! I'm SOOOOO very sorrrrrry! I PROMISE I'll NEVER do it again! I've learned my lesson!"

WHAM!. . . . BOOM!. . . . BAM!

"Part of the reason for this whipping is to see to it that you DON'T do it again, Scamp!"

WHAM!. . . . BAM!. . . . BASH!. . . . THRASH!

"Help!" cried Scamp, desperately and a little ridiculously. Angel had no intention of interfering with Tramp's discipline of his son.

"OWWWWW! OUCH! YOWWWWWW! EEEEEYOWWWWWWW!" Now Scamp began to wiggle his but just a little to fight the pain, but Tramp put his hand on top of the youth's hindquarters, which stopped the movement of Scamp's butt.

Tramp continued to let him have it; he raised the carpet beater higher than he had so far, and let fly on the boy's burning bottom.

After all of this, Scamp's bottom only started to turn red.

Tramp said, "Oh, you're not done yet, Scamp! Your butt is only now beginning to turn red--only a pale red, in fact! I'm going to whip your butt until it' cherry red!"

All the while that he spoke Tramp continued to whip his son's but; Scamp said "AWWWWW!" tho this, and began whimpering with pain and humiliation. Then he heard the unmistakable sound of snickering: it was Angel! Scamp was desperate not only with a fiery butt but with shame. "Dad!" he said, "Please take me to your room to do this! Please don't whip me in front of Angel!"

"No," said Tramp. "I already told you that humiliation is a big part of your punishment, and I'm whipping you in front of Angel not only as a punishment to you but as an example to her of how misbehavior is treated in this house!" Still, Angel stopped snickering, but with difficulty.

Tramp was not the least bit out of breath or showing other strain, but Scamp was almost breathless with the consistently hard strokes his father delivered to his helplessly exposed bottom, and the pain--and screams--they elicited.

SMACK! WHACK! CRACK!--"Dad! Stop! Please! My butt's on fire!"

"It doesn't look like it yet, young man," replied his father. "I'm going to tan your butt so that every time you sit down you'll remember what happens when you misbehave or sass your mother or me!

Scamp was madly pawing at the floor, but in spite of this physical response to pain, Tramp continued to whip his son. He did not believe he was going too far; he was determined that his boy should have--at least--a hard time sitting down, and each time he did it, he would remember the consequences of running away. Tramp knew that the boy would be unable to support both himself and Angel, or even himself, if he ran away again; in fact Tramp was afraid Scamp would turn to crime for financial support, and this alone justified the hard licking Tramp was giving Scamp. Also, Tramp reasoned to himself, if Scamp ran away he probably would return home, and he would remember that a sound thrashing was in store for him. This whipping would seve as a deterrent against Scamp running away again.

Meanwhile Scamp's bottom was beginning--but only that--to turn a bright shade of red; his butt was on fire and he howled with pain. Angel did not laugh any more. She agreed that a sound thrashing was in order for Scamp, but she began to worry about her own rear end, and though she continued to watch Scamp's punishment, she involuntarily covered her own bottom with her hands.

Still, Tramp had at his son: WHAM!. . . . BOOM!. . . . POW!. . . . BAM!

Scamp yelled, "Don't you think I've had enough, dad? Surely by now my butt is cherry red! I KNOW I'm not gonna be able t' sit down for a while! Have a heart, huh?"

"I'll decide when you've had enough, Scamp!" said Tramp. "You SURE aren't going to sit down for a while after this!"

"OWWWWWW!" yelled Scamp, and he began to cry loudly. Now Angel began to feel a little sorry for her boyfriend; still, she was silent. Still, she did not leave the room: she was afraid she would be called back.

A few minutes later, Scamp's rear turned brighter red but Tramp was now going for not just that, but for blistering Scamp's rump.

Angel now looked on with alarm. She knew Tramp was not abusing his son; she knew he deserved to be severely punished. He had put his life in danger, and she too realized that if he ran away again he would turn to crime, and that would lead to catastrophe for Scamp; he might be injured or even killed by criminals. Scamp did not have the heart to try and hurt anybody. She also knew he could not make it on the road as a vagrant, a beggar, a bum; he was too shy--and too proud--to ask strangers for anything, and the best he could hope for was scraps that he happened to find that other dogs or cats had left over, and this was dangerous because a juvenile dog, or even an adult dog, would not be tolerated by another dog to whom the scraps belonged. Also, Angel realized, Scamp would be taking her life or safety in danger. She despaired at the thought that the pound would be one of the better destination that awaited her. So now she moved back farther, approaching the wall, protecting her little rear as best she could sitting down, turning around, even putting her head uner her front paws on her head her tail between her legs, crouching--in the way dogs do when they are in trouble. She took some heart that Scamp would not repeat the mistake of running away again, and that she herself was not in trouble now.

Meanwhile Tramp continued to thrash his boy with the--to him--cruel rug beater. He whined, howled, and sobbed, but the whipping continued.

WHAP!. . . . WHOP!. . . . WHACK!. . . . SMACK!. . . . BAM!. . . . WHAM!. . . . BOM!. . . . POW!

Scamp yelled. "Dad! Please! My butt's ON FIRE! I REALLY won't be able to sit down! I'll hav'ta sleep on my stomach, cause my thighs will be sore !--you're whippin' them too! (hic, sob, whine, howl!) "AHHHHHHH! Please, dad! I've learned my lesson! I'll NEVER run away again! (hic! sob!) I'll NEVER put Angel's or my life in danger again! PLEASE! You're burnin' my butt! I'm not gonna be able to take much more!"

WHOP!. . . . Smack!. . . . THRASH!. . . . CRACK!. . . . WHAM!. . . . POW. . . . BAM!. . . .

"AHHHHHH!! Scamp yelled, and he continued to wail, whine, sob, and hiccup. "Dad! I'm sorrrrrry! Please! Stop!" But the beating continued, and so did the wailing; however, Tramps arm was beginning to noticeably tire--but not to Scam; his butt was very sore, and each SWAT! of the rug beater seemed more painful than the last one. He cried bitterly and helplessly; he tried to wiggle his bottom to somehow lessen and control the pain, but his dad held hid backside firmly, immovably, with his left arm.

Scamp's hindquarters became deep red.