Twenty years after I had left school, where I was caned regularly, I was persuaded by my nephew to accept a caning from him as a punishment for drink driving. Although the pain was horrendous, I found the preliminaries and the after effects somehow arousing, just as I had at school.
A little while after my nephew had punished me, I attended an old boys reunion dinner. At the end of the evening I was in conversation with one of the boys from my year. I'd had a bit to drink and when he recalled the discipline at the school, I blurted out that I had received corporal punishment recently and I mentioned the strange excitement I felt before and after.
He smiled and said that some of the prefects had not hung up their canes when they left school and still practised their skills on old "boys" who felt they needed correction. He told me that he himself had received punishment from a number of these old prefects since leaving school and was surprised that I wasn't aware of their "services."
He went on to say that if I was interested he would give me the telephone number of the prefect who he thought was the best because he lived in a large house on his own and had good "facilities" as well as being a skilled disciplinarian. I remembered his name. He had been a prefect when I was a junior boy.
I took the telephone number and over the next few weeks I thought long and hard about phoning and arranging a visit. Finally I did phone him and make an appointment to be caned for some imaginary offence. I was very apprehensive when I rang the doorbell of his large house. He opened the door and led me through to his study. It was a big room and looked very much like a headmaster's study with a large desk and wall panelling. However, the dominant feature was a padded bench standing in the middle of the room. Also I noticed three canes hanging from hooks on the wall.
We sat down in two easy chairs and he asked me if I remembered him beating me at school and why I wanted to be punished now. I told him that he had beaten me several times at school but I still felt in need of occasional punishment. He then explained at length how he came to provide discipline for old boys and details of some of the punishments he had administered. This went on for some time and although I found it interesting I was becoming more and more nervous wondering what was going to happen. Also I couldn't help staring at the punishment bench and the canes on the wall waiting for me. The canes were each a different size and I kept wondering which cane he would use. I didn't want the caning to be too painful. Eventually he stood up and said, "Right, it's time you were dealt with. Stand up!"
I expected him to tell me to take off my trousers and underpants as I had done at school. Instead he told me to strip completely. I hadn't bargained for this and seeing that I looked startled he said: "I like 'boys' to be completely in my power during punishment sessions. Hurry up!" Wondering what I was letting myself in for, I undressed as slowly as I dare. Finally I was wearing only my underpants. I hesitated before taking them off until he barked out: "Quickly!" Once I was stripped, he ordered me to stand in the middle of the room with my hands on my head.
He stood behind me, gave my bottom a playful slap, and said, "Well, your backside is still in reasonably good shape for punishment. I shall enjoy caning it just as I did at school." As he was saying this I could feel the stirrings of an erection and although I was extremely nervous and trembling slightly, I could sense a strange guilty feeling feeling of excitement as I stood naked in front of him. "I have three canes," he explained, "the junior, the senior and the standard school cane. I hardly ever use the junior. As this is your first visit here, I will use the standard school cane this time." I was relieved that he wasn't going to use the senior cane and I assumed I wasn't going to be caned too severely. He walked over to the canes and selected the middle one. As he carried it back towards me, a shiver of excitement ran through me as I was transfixed by the sight of the cane which was going to thrash my bottom. To those who don't know better, It may look like a fairly harmless flexible stick but I knew from experience that it can feel like a white hot poker across a bare bottom.
He then ordered me over to the caning bench. There was a padded ledge and he told me to kneel on it and bend right over the top, which was also padded, and stretch my arms down the other side. Next he took a long strap behind my knees and secured it. "I always restrain boys for their punishment - it saves them having having to worry about staying bent over," he explained. He came round to the front and I allowed him to strap each of my wrists in turn to the frame of the bench. I thought this unnecessary as I was sure I could stay still. I was now completely helpless and at his mercy. However the bench had been well made and padded and I felt quite comfortable. The top of the bench was angled so that my bottom stuck up and out. Naked and in this highly exposed position, my excitement and erection grew stronger.
He stood behind me and stroked my bottom with the cane. "Yes, now we've got you bent over in position, I can see you have quite a nice bottom for caning. Let's see how many strokes I can fit on." I enjoyed feeling the cane tapping up and down as he planned where to lay on the strokes. "Your backside could take twelve strokes without any overlapping if I was very accurate. To make it easier for both of us today, I am going to give you ten." I had expected the more usual six of the best as at school. Ten was a lot although I had received twelve from my nephew. But I was still sure I would receive a light caning.
He then walked slowly round me, swishing the cane while he gave me a lecture. He said I was a lazy and useless person who deserved to be punished and the only suitable instrument of punishment was the cane applied to my bare buttocks. This went on for some time until I really began to look forward to being punished so that I could be released from my guilt. At the same time I was feeling aroused knowing that I was completely naked and helpless and about to be caned. My erection grew stronger.
Finally he took up his position behind me and gently stroked the cane across my expectant bottom. By now I was in a heightened state of stimulation and I could sense my bare bottom twitching with excitement at the touch of the cane. I tried to thrust my bottom out for the cane as far as the restraints would allow. I was aching to be caned and my erection was now throbbing. This is one of the best moments of a caning: feeling that strange exciting anticipation before the actual pain begins and I was still thinking it would not be too painful.
However the moment did not last long. With a final tap of the cane across the centre of my bottom, he applied the first stroke. The old familiar swish and crack were followed by an unbelievable pain overload. I screamed in surprised horror at the severity of the pain and tried to get up only to find that I couldn't move. Suddenly with the arrival of such searing pain my mood changed completely as I thought what on earth am I doing here? Naked and strapped down, having my bare bottom thrashed so unbearably. It wasn't pleasant at all. I cried out: "Stop! That's enough - I've changed my mind. I don't want to be caned any more." "Of course you don't want to be caned," he grinned, no doubt delighted by my reaction to the first stroke. "But you know you deserve to be punished and I'm going to cane you properly. If you ask me to stop again you will receive extra strokes."
He administered a second scorching stroke which seemed even worse than the first. "Oh, no," I thought, "I can't take any more of this, certainly not eight more strokes. Surely I can pull my hands out of these straps." I tugged and pulled as hard as I could until my wrists were sore but it was useless. The straps were strong and well made.
"Keep still," he said, "you're a wicked boy who has to suffer severely to learn his lesson." He then delivered the third stroke. His caning technique was more painful than my nephew's. As I received the fourth stroke I realized that my erection had disappeared and I was aware only of my bottom which felt as though a white hot poker had been held against it and then taken away several times leaving it feeling burnt and throbbing. The fifth stroke took me to a level of pain that I had never experienced before. I nearly begged him to stop again but I remembered what he had said. I was now halfway (but only halfway!) through my punishment and the second half is always worse.
He applied the sixth stroke and I felt so wretched and helpless in my agony that all my inhibitions vanished and I unashamedly burst into tears for the first time since I was a child. "Good, good," he said, "at last I'm thrashing the wickedness out of you."
After the seventh stroke I felt as though my bottom was bleeding. But this was just a sensation and he never actually drew blood. I was now completely immersed in a world of pain. I could hear nothing (except the far distant crack of the cane) and I could see nothing. My only sensation was pure pain radiating out from my bottom which felt as though it had been cut to shreds. I knew it was pointless to beg him to stop so I just gritted my teeth, kept my eyes closed and held on to the straps. Three more strokes were cut into my bottom increasing the pain to a further indescribable level. I howled at each stroke and sobbed my heart out waiting for the next. But he was unmoved by my reaction and showed me no mercy as he made the final stroke the hardest. I felt as though I was being cut in half.
"That was the last one," he announced. I could sense from his voice that he had enjoyed himself. "You will remain strapped down so that you can reflect on your punishment. I shall be back in half an hour." With that I heard him hang up the cane, walk out of the room and close the door. I was now completely alone, unable to move and in great distress. My bottom felt as though a blow torch was burning against it and I wanted to stand up and grab it. I was still sobbing and I swore that I would never volunteer for another caning. Then slowly I began to realize that I had taken the most extreme punishment of my life and I felt quite proud of myself, Perhaps I did deserve to be punished severely. After some time the fiery pain began to subside a little and be replaced by a hot throbbing glow. This was another good moment of a caning session and as I lay naked and strapped down over the bench, my erection returned quite strongly.
It seemed like ages before I heard the door open and he came back into the room. "Do you think you have learnt your lesson?" he asked. "Yes. Thank you." He undid the straps and told me to stand up. I saw him look at my erection. "You might like to inspect your backside." He motioned me to a wall mirror at the end of the room. He had caned me very well. There were ten horizontal closely spaced but separate welts neatly cut into my bottom. My bottom felt much worse than it looked. I had to admire his skillful technique. My erection was beginning to throb. "Do you need some help?" he asked. I just murmured, "Yes, please." He told me to turn round, face the mirror and put my hands on my head. This was the best moment of all.