Modern Day Roman Schoolboy Training, Pt. 2 - Paul


by anon

As you may recall, I was discussing Paul, a discipline officer's answer to prayer. Paul was indeed an unruly brat, who had never been properly disciplined or brought up in any way by his parents. Paul's dad was a rich business tycoon type, who never had much time to give to his son, and Paul's mom was too busy draining her high society woes in a vodka bottle. Obviously, Paul was not the entire author of his behaviour and attitude problems, but - at age 17 - one has to begin to take some responsibility for one's actions. Paul had been in trouble with the Juvenile authorities many times over a 5-year stretch, and his final offense was an attempted break and enter in the nighttime. (B&E-N for you police freaks). The presiding judge had met Paul's parents in a pre-sentence interview, and there had been instant mutual dislike. The Judge lectured Paul and his parents about using money to buy oneself out of trouble, etc. etc. The lecture fell on deaf ears, and Paul was ordered to spend 24 months in secure detention, at the "Farm" and training centre.

Naturally, as an ex G. I. (discharge rank of Mst. Sgt. spec.6, medical corpsman (yhour everyday, average paramedic and battlefield sawbones), I was not very tolerant of spoiled-child attitudes, and I let Paul know that I would be on his tail constantly, when he was first assigned to my residence. Things passed uneventfully for the first 10 days or so - the 'marriage period' that you can read about in any textbook on social work. Paul did not get too involved with any of the other boys, and kept mostly to himself. However the showdown came about, soon enough. Paul tried to manipulate two other boys in getting punished for something that he himself had done. He lied about it, continued to blatantly fib even when caught and exposed, and threatened the two others with physical harm if they didn't accept the blame (and take punishment for the misdeeds) instead of Paul himself owning up to his stuff.

I have never been much of one to insist on the 'letter of the law' when it comes to teenaged males and their upbringing. I had very good, loving parents, who taught me that some leeway is needed, along with a loving attitude and a judicious balance of justice and mercy when raising teenagers. I turned out pretty well if I may be permitted to say so, therefore I respect the wisdom of my own parents' teachings - and I resoved to try to apply these models in my care and control of the young charges under my authority at the Farm. I told Paul and the two others involved that we would have a house discussion to find out the truth of the incident. The two other boys - Thomas and Scott - 16-year olds, each sentenced to a year in detention for petty theft, agreed, insisting upon their innocence. Paul, who was physically larger than many of the boys and was somewhat of a bully, (I HATE bullies!!), equally insisted that he was the innocent party in this affair.

We convened this meeting, with the rest of the boys in my house all present, in the bunk room. I should point out that the Farm had 12 homes, each housing 25 boys. The homes had a bunk room or dormintory, a large dining room and prep kitchen, and a recreation room in the basement. The punishment room, was also in the basement, adjacent to the rec room. I called the meeting to order, and asked for quiet. I questioned several boys who had seen the incident - a pushing and shoving thing - and got their side of the story. I then questioned Tom and Scott, and their 'official' version was the same as what they had said to me in private, that Paul had waited for them in the gym, and jumped them. Two other lads stood up and said that Paul had sworn them to secrecy upon pain of 'a beating' if they spoke up. They however did speak out at length. It turned out that Paul had been a regular little Ghengis Khan type of tyrant ever since he had arrived, and had been threatening all manner of mayhem aqainst many of his house-mates. I looked toward Paul to see what he might say to all these accusations. To my surprise, he denied nothing, and smiled at his accusers saying "I'll get you for squealing and ratting on me, all of you!"

Upon hearing this, I declared the meeting ended, and advised Paul that he should prepare to receive disciplinary attention for his infractions. Paul just laughed and snorted, "Yah, sure, lay a beatin' on me when it's really their fault. Well, I'll show you, that I can take anything you dish out, and then my father's gonna buy this whole place and fire your ass right out of here."

I told Paul in a calm voice to report to the "hell hole" (punishment room) and be ready to take his licks. I also said that he could complain to whomever he liked afterward, but until then, his ass was mine - literally! Some of the other boys cheered, and Scott spoke up saying, "Sir, I don't mind being a witness, if you need one." I quickly agreed, and appointed Scott, Tom, and Ricky as witnesses to Paul's flogging, and notified the Director that I would be administering punishment. As we discussed the matter briefly, the Director admitted to me that he had suspected that Paul would be the first boy whom I would punish severly in my house. "I placed Paul with you," he explained, "because I knew that you would brook no nonsense from him; and because I knew you father very well, and I admired the way he had raised you and your brother and sister." With this glowing recommendation, I resolved to give Paul tghe flogging of his mis-spent 17 years. Perhaps this migh clue him in to the reality of life, I thought.

I went over to Paul's bed, where he as sitting defiantly glowering at me. I placed a hand on his shoulder and told him to come with me, and let's get this over with. He looked up at me, and nodded. I took him by the arm, and led him down the stairs, to the punishment room. The three peer witnesses were already there, waiting in anticipation. I unlocked the heavy wooden and steel door, and ushered Paul and the other three inside, closing and locking the door after me. I informed Paul that he would be receiving a sever punishment for his misdeeds, and that he was to strip down completely nude. Naturally, Paul balked at this order, complaining that it was unfair, etc. etc. I reminded him that I was in charge, that whatever I said was law, and that there was no way out of the room untill I was satisfied that punishment was meted out. At that remark, Paul wilted, and reverted to his "little boy blue" mode, where he whined and sobbed that nobody liked him, and nobody care about him, and so on. I commented to both Paul and the other three witnesses that I cared about all of them, not only as part of my job - but as people as well. I repeated my order to Paul to strip bare, or have me cut his clothing off.

The tee-shirt was flung into the corner, followed by the running shoes and sweat socks. The jeans slid down slowly, and finally were shucked off into the same pile. Paul sniffed and looked up at me, hoping that I would relent. I wagged my finger downwards twice, and he got the message - his jockeys were slipped down over his hips, and then off his feet to join the rest of his clothing. I now had a 17 year old male, bareass naked and shivering slightly in dreaded anticipation, locked in a room with a restraining horse, and half a dozen assorted spanking/flogging implements. I lectured Paul briefly on attitude adjustment, and on taking tghe consequences of one's actions. He mumbled his "Yes Sirs" as I spoke to him in a fatherly way, hoping to reach the boy in him. The other three young men were respectfully silent. I was glad they were because, if not I would have had to spank them as well, but more importantly -I was trying to give Paul some re-direction in his troubled life.

As previously noted, Paul was well-built, and the possessor of a very well-rounded bubble butt. This actually stood him in good stead, providing a firm and absorbent muscular cushion upon which to receive the strokes of his flogging. A skinny boy would have suffered more injury, and would not have healed up as quickly. Admittedly, Paul's shapely ass mounds were rather enjoyable from my point of view. I have found that very little surpasses the pleasure of administering good souond corporal puishment to a firm and round set of cheeks. Any reader who is familiar with schoolboy discipline of this type can easily identify with me. Anyhow, I turned to the equipment rack against one of the walls of the room, and drew a jockstrap out of a storage box. It was our institutional policy to have the boys clothed in a jock during punishment. This was done for several reasons; one being the protective aspect given the boys genitalia during their floggings, and the other reason was more esthetical. The white waistband and lower support bands under the buttocks provided a very clear target outline, wherein the strokes of the implement were to be directed. This was necessary due to the exacting legislation given the Farm, regarding the ability to mete out physical punishment to the boys in our care. So I handed this jock to Paul, and told him to put it on, and to bend over the horse in preparation.

I quickly fastened Paul's wrists and ankles to the restraint posts provided, and then secured him to the horse with a kind of seat belt affair at his waist. This left Paul in a bent-over position, his muscular legs spread apart at about 3 feet between his heels, and forced to go up on his toes, to balance properly. Pauls rear end was like two round orbs, taughtly muscled and stretched out awaiting their fate at my hands. I quickly gave Paul the official orders of his punishment, and instructed him receive a total of 25 strokes, with the cane and the strap. I motioned to the witnessing boys to step across the room, out of the way. Then, I picked up one of the flogging canes, and flexing it several tiems in the air for practice, brought the cane up to Pauls buttocks, carefully measuring the placement and angle of the intended strokes. With the words, "Ready, Paul?", I drew back the cane and swished it forward with a flick of my wrist. It landed squarely on Pauls bottom, exactly halfway up his cheeks, perpendicular to the crack of his butt. The sound was like a shot from a starter's pistol, and in the confines of the punishment room, it was rather loud!

Paul did not hesitate to let us know what it felt like. About two seconds after the first stroke landed, he jerked againt the restraint cuffs, squeezed his buttocks together violently, and yelled ooowwwwwwch, at the top of his voice. I calmly informed the boy that he had 11 more kike that coming and more afterwards with the strap - and to 'take it like a man'!!! This last admonition seemed to have an effect, for Paul withstood the next 5 cuts of the cane in stoic silence, just gasping with an intake of breath each time I landed another blistering stroke across his seat. From previous experience, I tended to apply the first 6 cuts parallel to each other, running horizontally. The second "six of the best" would slant from left to right and right to left; thus punishing a large part of the fatty, rounded portion of the male rump. This permits a great deal of deeply-felt discomfort, without causing much more that a blistered welt which generally heals up in two or tree weeks. Paul withstood the first six pretty well. As I paused to rest my arm, I viewed the target area with some amusement. There was the bully of the house, sniffling and sobbing while being painfully beaten and humiliated - a fitting comeuppance indeed. I told Paul to prepare himself for the last six of the cane

Stokes seven through ten brought immediate wails and tears with each cut, and Paul was begging me stop, that he understood why he was being disciplined, and that he would be good from now on, etc. etc. One of the important points in administering punishment is to advise the recipient of the amount of strokes, and then carry it out, without fail. This gois a long way towards establishing trust, obedience, and maturity in a teen-aged boy. After all, the point of this excercise is to build manliness - at least that was my intention. Although Paul was definitely in a lot of pain, I resolved not to relent, and to give him every stroke intended. The 10th, 11th and 12th strokes of the can upon Pauls inflamed butt must have been the most painful and embarassing thing Paul had ever experienced. The intensity of his discomfort caused him to urinate in his jockstrap, dirpping all over the restraint horse and the floor. Not only did I make him get on his knees and clean it up with some towels, but his housemates - the three witnesses viewed every bit of what happened. Paul would not be able to hold his head up too high, for a long while.

I allowed Paul to go to the toilet stall in the punishment room, and finish off what he had started. All in all, gave his as about 15 minutes of rest from the flogging. I ordered him back up on the horse. He obeyed without hesitation, a sure sign that he had experienced a change in attitude, at least for the moment. I informed Paul that the rest of his disciplinary time would consist of an application of the strap, for 13 licks. The boys jokingly referred tgo this amongst themselves as "lucky leather 13". I hung up the cane on the wall rack, and took down one of the leather strops hanging there. These were constgructed of a strip of polished, tanned steerhide; about 3 inches wide and two feet long and a quarter of an inch in thickness. The strop was attached to a well-padded wooden handle, and the leather was kept well-oiled in order to add weight to the swing of the strop. Paul knew that he has about to feel the rest of his punishment even more painfully that before. He sobbed softly, as I secured his restraints at wrist, ankles and waist. Because of the hazards to Pauls lower legs or upper back from this implement (if he shifted at the last moment before a stroke landed), I fastened the restraining belts across his lower thighs and shoulders. Paul was truly trussed securely to the flogging horse, and was ready tgo receive the balance of his due.

Once again, I instructed the witnesses to keep clear, and swung the strop gently, for practice. The leather rose and fell, kissing Paul's reddened and rounded rump lightly, as I measured my distance. I thought to myself, better be ready, Paul, this one's gonna sting. I said out loud, "Prepare for balance of punishment," sand swung the strop with a flipping motion of my wrist. The leather tongue landed right on top of where Paul had taken the first six cane strokes. This provoked an immediate howl of agony from the boy, and a great sobbing gasp of his breath. After verifying that this was all noise and effect - Paul wasn't dying from the pain, he just thought he was -- I proceeded to lay on the final strokes of the punishment session. Paul sobbed, wailed, screamed, and carried on, and one of the witnesses - Tom, I believe, remarked quietly that Paul was sure a sissy when it cam to take the rewards of being a bully. That comment cut Paul more deeplyh and lastingly, that any of the strokes I laid on his ass that day.

After lots of tears and snot, Paul calmed down somewhat. I released him from he restraining horse, and he stood up very slowly and painfully. I told Paul to leave the jockstrap in the laundry bin, and head for tghe showers. He did so, and the three witnesses and I were treated to the sight of two round orbs, well-covered in red welts and bruises. Paul sent upstairs very slowly, as climbing stairs means bending your knees - a very painful thing to do if you have just undergone a flogging on the bare behind. Since Paul had to go through the bunkroom to get to the showers, he gave a good view of his welted bottom cheeks to the entire house. To Paul's surprise, no one taunted him or laughed. Instead they silently watched him, and a few gave him the 'thumbs up' sign. Paul had taken his licks, and was now accepted as one of the house. As I recall, I never did have to discipline Paul again in that way, during the balance of his stay with us.


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