This story follows a series which I put onto the MMSA Stories archive last year. They told the story of a school boy - me. I was given some notable beatings while attending a private boarding school , called The Grammar School. Some were on school camps, a couple of severe canings from the Headmaster, and lastly, a regular beatings at a holiday study school. Please see those stories on the archive for the background.
In my last year of school - I was a prefect and house captain, and never felt the sting of a caning. I worked hard and was feeling very grown-up and mature when I graduated from High school. I took 3 months holiday and went back-packing in South East Asia, and returned home, just in time to get ready for the start of university.
Given the school I had attended - I was entitled to join one of the elite, men only residential colleges - St Johns (like a fraternity in the US). It was renowned for fostering sporting and academic excellence.
I arrived at the campus the Saturday before the orientation week. I settled in, and got to know the other guys on my floor. I met the seniors of the college and was given a quick tour. The whole place was chaos - with parents and students running around, trying to get organised. Both the college authority and our parents advised that we all get a good night's sleep.
Once the last of the parents had gone - we all agreed that a few drinks at a nearby bar might be fun. None of felt like staying in the College and eating its lousy food on this first night.
So a group of us went out without stopping for diner in the hall - we just grabbed a burger and chips while we were out. I admit it - we got pretty drunk, and returned to our college at about one in the morning.
We arrived back at the college and had to make a hell of a noise to get the doors unlocked. The housekeeper looked very annoyed at us, and muttered about either being "hell to pay". We all fell into our beds and into a sound sleep.
Next morning, at about lunch time I awoke with a start - someone was shaking me awake.
"Get up you big slob !" yelled one of the college seniors. "Johnstone wants to see you".
"Ohhhhh - ok, ok " I moaned "give me a moment". I was dreading some long lecture from the College's senior prefect. So I pulled on the first clothes I could find - an old pair of jeans and a tee shirt, and trudged down the corridor to the College common room. I found all of my new drinking buddies sitting there looking morose and sorry for themselves.
Soon Johnstone strode into the room. He was a big guy - I remember him being the captain of the Rugby team from a school we played against. At 23, he was five years older than me, and was doing a post graduate degree at the University. He looked around the room
and smirked, saying "Well, well ,well - what a happy bunch !"
We all just moaned and looked at our feet.
"I hope you all realise that this college isn't a free for all party. We have rules and discipline here. It's quite unusual for a group to break so many of the rules before we've even had a chance to explain them !"
He strode around the room, glaring at us. I was getting a very uneasy feeling about this lecture - it was kind of reminding me of school. It was irritating me, as we were supposed to be more grown-up and beyond being treated like school boys, so I said: "Oh for God's sake Johnstone, just get on with it - I want to go back to bed !"
He whirled around and fixed his stare on me. All of the seniors gasped at my audacity. They knew that I was soon to pay the price for my arrogance !
"So someone speaks ! .... Martin isn't it ? I remember playing you guys at football ... in a hurry are we ? ... well I'll get to you in a minute"
I smiled uncertainly, and resolved not to speak so hastily. Johnstone resumed his lecture, going through the rules of the College for freshmen. We weren't to be out after 11pm, only moderate drinking, always eat diner in hall, no sleeping in - our focus was to be attaining excellence in mind, body and spirit. Therefore we were to study hard, exercise hard, and follow a strict moral code.
"You are all here on a three week probation. If you want to be able to stay here you have to prove yourselves worthy. That means no more episodes like last night. It also means accepting that you should be punished for last night. We will be setting you tasks and challenges over the next few weeks - this is the first challenge - facing up to punishment."
"Because term hasn't started yet - I'm not going to insist that you report for punishment , I'm going to make it voluntary. If you are willing to take your punishment you'll be waiting in the college basement in 30 mins. If you're not willing to take punishment - then take a long hard look at yourself, and whether you are really worthy of this College".
Johnstone glared around the group again and fixed his stare on me. "I'll see you downstairs in 30 mins. In the meantime - Martin come with me, I want to talk with you".
I got up and followed Johnstone down the hall into the senior common room. I was followed by the other seniors, like some sort of guard. When we passed through the Common room (much more luxurious than the standard room) I was shown into Johnstone's official office. It was wood panelled with a heavy oak desk. It looked just like the Headmaster's office back at school.
Johnstone walked in, and stood behind the desk as I stepped in uncertainly. Two other guys stepped in, and deliberately shut the door. I looked around and gulped - I felt unaccountably nervous.
"Martin, Martin, Martin" Johnstone said, shaking his head and looking at me with disapproval - "We had high hopes for you, I hope you're not going to be trouble".
"Umm" I stammered - uncertain as to how to respond to this bizarre statement. I was surprised he recognised me at all.
"This is an elite college" he barked "We expect the highest standards from our men".
"Yes, I realise that now" I said meekly. I had already decided that I had better report for the punishment later, as my father would never forgive me if I was rejected by his old college for such a stupid reason. Besides I wanted to prove to these guys that I had what it takes to be a St John's man.
"Good" he said, "I'll expect you in the basement in 25 minutes" .
I nodded and was about to turn away when he continued " But first I want to talk about the standards we are going to expect from YOU".
"Me ??" I asked in puzzlement .Why would I be expect to have standards other than those of every other guy in the College, I wondered.
"Yes, you " he nodded "we have been anticipating that as the son of a former College Prefect, and as a former prefect of Grammar, you would join our elite programme"
"Umm what's that?" I asked - resolving to have words with my dad for not telling me about this.
One of the two guys - who had been standing by the door stepped forward at a nod from Johnstone who introduced him as McGregor - the "Dean of Elite Initiations". McGregor was about 6'5 - all muscle. He obviously worked out a lot. It turned out he was also doing an advanced degree after passing his first one with first class honours, as well as playing a number of sports, representing the university. I could see why you might categorise him as 'elite'.
McGregor said " It's a special programme that only a few guys are ever invited to join. Out of a college of 240 men only 25 are ever in the elites. Only members of the elite are aware of its existence - so no one else in the college must ever hear of this."
I nodded slowly "OK".
McGregor continued "We have evaluated all this year's probationary members, and judge you to be the only one suitable for consideration for the elite. Now before you get _c_o_c_k_y about this, let me tell you that the elite is for guys with the potential for greatness who are most likely to screw it up... if we felt that you'd achieve your potential without help we wouldn't invite you to enjoy the elite."
I nodded again - unable to think of any response.
"In the elite programme we allocate you a mentor for your physical well-being and a study mentor. They will help you and encourage you. We also offer discipline for you on an honour system basis. If you feel you've screwed up, come to me and we'll agree an appropriate punishment, over and above whatever is dealt out by the university or the college. I know you received corporal punishment at Grammar, which is a good introduction to our approach to punishment"
"What ?!?" I blurted out "you mean you would cane me like at school"
"Well we have longer canes and would hit you rather harder, but yes" said McGregor.
At this point Johnstone chimed in "You'll be getting a caning in a while from me for last night's escapades - you can be first to bend over if you like !"
I could tell he was serious. My mind was a whirl. It had been eighteen months since I'd been caned on the Study school. I found the thought of being re-acquainted with the cane oddly exciting. The traditions of this special group appealed to me. I had always been part of elite and this one sounded like it would really help me do well.
Johnstone continued " the cane I use on probabationaries isn't as heavy as the one used in the elite group, so It will be a good warm up for you."
McGregor then said "So we are offering you a chance to join the special programme. You must prove yourself worthy over the next three weeks. If you agree now we will give you extra tests and challenges over and above the ones the other guys get. If you agree to be tested for the elite you must pledge to never talk to anyone outside the elites about this conversation - if you breach that pledge you will be expelled from the college and be banned from all colleges."
My heart was in my mouth . I was so nervous. I wasn't entirely sure what I was getting into, but realised that I had to decide now whether to even try to get in. I tried to sound nonchalant as I said "Ok, I'll give it a go".
The three guys smiled broadly and shook me by the hand. I had to sign the secrecy pledge. I was told to report to McGregor's study after the general punishment session for a further "elite" punishment - which would be my first test.
I was then excused and headed down towards the basement - to be first in line for the cane. A few guys came up to ask what had happened. I just told them I was given and extra telling off for being a smart arse. I walked down into the dimly lit ante-room in the basement, and stood by the door. A few other guys came down . Quite a few had decided not to face up for this punishment.
The door soon swung open - it was Johnstone. There must have been another staircase. I sweating in anticipation of what was to happen. The others were oblivious. Johnstone looked around the group, saying "about half the offenders eh ? - that's typical" .
He then beamed at us "You guys clearly respect the standards we expect here at St Johns - it will help you cause greatly. All of you step in here"
We followed him into the main basement. There was a long wooden bench at the centre of a semi circle of chairs and tables. Resting on the bench was a fearsome looking cane. It looked to be as big as the Headmaster's cane at school. I began to wonder at the wisdom of doing this ! The other guys began to shift restlessly as they realised what they had got themselves into.
McGregor motioned for us to sit at a table, and stood in the centre. "Yes guys - I'm going to cane you like naughty school boys !"
"But we're too old for the cane - we're adults !" complained one guy.
"Fine, if that's your attitude I suggest you apply to a different college, because you will be caned very regularly over the next three weeks as part of the probation tests - at this college, if you act like school boys, you will be punished like them."
A few guys looked uncertain, so Johnstone said "If you want to leave now, go ahead - but bear in mind you won't be eligible to pledge for this college". A couple of guys got up and walked out of the room. Johnstone said we were "better off with out them", before continuing "So, let's get started - I volunteer Martin, our resident smart arse to be a guinea pig! Martin, get your butt up here"
With a sigh I stood up and walked up to the bench. From school I could guess what the drill would be. I realised I was wearing worn, old jeans with no underwear, so I wouldn't get much protection from the cane . I knew I'd taken some pretty hard thrashings in my career at school but it had been a fair while since I'd last had one, and this cane would hurt like hell. As it looked like this would be a public beating I was pretty worried about how well I'd take it.
"Stretch yourself over this desk" Johnstone said "and grab the other end".
I leant over the table and stretch to reach the other end. I felt the fabric of my jeans stretch across my backside . This was going to hurt. So a grabbed the other side of the table and held it firmly - as support.
Johnstone picked up the cane and waved in around experimentally. It swished through the air menacingly. The other guys were sitting in rapted silence - obviously contemplating their own fate. Johnstone said "For last night's activity - it getting drunk and staying out after curfew - you will each get 8 strokes of the cane. Martin here will get an extra four strokes for being a smart arse - so he'll be a sore arse now !"
No one laughed at Johnstone's joke as the horror of this punishment dawned on us all - especially me ! Twelve of the best would have been hard to take when I was being beaten frequently and so "in practice". Now it would be unbearable. I despaired of my ability to take it with any dignity.
"Prepare yourself" said Johnstone, as he took position behind me, and tapped by bum a couple of times to take aim." Now count " he said as he swung the cane back and brought it crashing down on my backside.
THWWACK !!!!! "Owwww" I yelled "that's one". It was like a stripe of fire, and I was unprepared for how much it hurt. I still had the presence of mind not to stand.
He paused a few seconds as the room sat in total silence, to let that one sink in. He then drew back again and hit even harder.
THWWWACK!!! I gasped, but didn't yell this time " two". Again he drew back and laid into me "Three"; "Four"; "Five" ; "Six" all crashed into my backside. I was startled by how much this was hurting. Tears pricked my eyes, and my voice was beginning to break as I called out the numbers. My backside was throbbing with pain .
Johnstone drew back and stepped back half a step and really whacked into me again:
THWWACK !!!!! "Yeoowww" I cried as I leapt up in pain and rubbed my bum furiously. This one had really hurt !
"You forgot to count, and stood without permission" said Johnstone mildly "that's two extra !"
"What !!!!!" I exclaimed in anger - this was getting ridiculous " you must be joking"
"OK, either take an four extra, or you can leave the college".
At that threat I realised what was at stake. I sullenly resumed the position. All my years at school at taught me not to push it when the cane was involved. Especially as I was now looking at 16 strokes, plus whatever the elite group were going to give me.
I grunted with pain as I stretched out again and my jeans fabric cut into the stripes across my bum.
Again Johnstone lined up, and whacked the eighth into my bum "Eight" I exclaimed through gritted teeth. He said "Ok you have four extra to go, plus the four you're due for being a smart arse - so I think we'll do this in stages. Four now, and four after everyone else has had their caning" I could hear the other guys shifting uncomfortably at this reference to the fate of their own backsides.
"Don't bother counting - these will be quick and hard, so hold on tight, don't get up".
He drew back, WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK, four strokes thumped into my bum in rapid succession. I gasped in pain as the tears flowed freely down my face. My whole backside seemed to be on fire .
"OK stand" said Johnstone. I stood slowly and painfully. "Go and sit and await your final instalment" I trudged over to the nearest seat and gingerly settled my bum on the hard seat - gasping at the sting as I sat. As I did this Johnstone had called another guy forward - Phillips.
He was a short stocky guy - who was a wrestler on the schoolboy circuit. He was fit and muscular. His jeans showed off his well defined, muscular backside as he stretched over the table. I watched rapted as Johnstone drew back the cane and whacked into his bum very hard. His backside quivered with the impact despite being stretched tight. You could see the line of strike etched in the fabric of his jeans. If it was anything like the strokes I'd been getting it must have hurt. Phillips grunted out "one" He had obviously been caned at school because he was taking it well. Of course he was wearing thicker jeans with underwear and so had more protection that I had.
Phillips took his eight strokes reasonably well. When he stood he had tears in his eyes as he limped over the sit beside me. He winced as he sat, I glanced at him in sympathy - acutely aware of the throbbing pain in my own backside. I shifted uncomfortably as I thought about the extra punishment still to come.
There were four more guys to go. Anderson was next - he was an overweight computer nerd guy who took his strokes really badly - screaming and crying loudly. He got extra four for standing. When he sat down he was bawling his eyes out.
Then Wilson who has a tall skinny swimmer's body with a very muscular, well defined backside. He shamed me by taken his eight in complete silence, calling out the number of the stroke with what sounded like disinterest. When he stood he barely seemed to be in pain - I assumed he must have been caned very frequently and very recently - either that or he was just very tough. He walked to a desk and sat down quietly.
Fitzpatrick sauntered up to the table with arrogant swagger. I remembered him from my school. He was beaten frequently and used to brag about how well he'd take it. The first whack shuddered into his well defined backside. He called out "one" calmly. But with each stroke his voice became more filled with panic and pain, so by eight he was squirming in pace and yelling "oh, please, please stop, that's eight , oh god, please no more". He seemed hysterical when he stood up, and was heaving big sobs as he sat gingerly down. He was clearly out of practice !
The last guy, before I returned to the centre, was Jameson. He was another nerd - only this time skinny and with a bony, ill defined butt . He bent over and took each stroke calmly and quietly - calling out the number quietly. I had anticipated that he would take it badly. I felt shamed by his dignity and resolved to take the next four and all future canings quietly.
So it was my turn again. I was called back to the centre. I stood slowly and walked to the table and took position. Johnstone said "these four extra are for your smart arse comments in the common room - no need to count these will be quick fire again".
I held on tight as he drew back and WHACKED by bum again four times in quick succession. I held on the far side of he table and shut my eyes as the cane reignited the searing pain of the previous twelve strokes across by bum. I managed not to yell out , but there were tears in my eyes as I stood slowly once Johstone said it was OK.
I stood there, very still as he looked around the group of teary eyed, sorry young men and said "well done guys - this was a positive first step towards becoming members of St Johns. You took your punishment like men, when many others took the opportunity to run away from accepting responsibility."
He walked around the group shaking each guy by the hand. We then had to swear not to tell anyone outside the college membership(especially the other probationary members ) about what happened in the basement - upon pain of instant dismissal from the college, and therefore being denied membership of any college or club in the university. Anyone who wanted to know of the punishments of St Johns would have to front up and take it like a man.
We took our time to pull ourselves together and made our way upstairs. All the others walked up to their rooms and shut the doors. I walked along to the entrance to McGregor's room and nervously knocked on the door.
.... to be continued