Six of the Best - an Essential Prep School Experience


by Tristan <Yobo30@hotmail.com>

"I will not tolerate this kind of behaviour from boys in this school!" roared the headmaster, "Scratching your desks with your compasses is bad enough, but the disgusting language and words that you etched in to the furniture is absolutely unacceptable!"

Murray and Timothy said nothing. The pair of 11 year-old boys just shuffled their feet, kept their eyes down and waited for the headmaster to finish his tirade. They knew that they were in very big trouble, and both their little bottoms clenched as the man leant back in his chair flexing his junior cane. He had been absently flexing it and pointing it at the lads as he lectured them, and both pre-teens knew that they were in for pretty good hidings. Neither boy thought for one minute that having his backside thrashed would be unfair, they knew that they deserved to be punished. It was just a matter of how severely they would be dealt with. Standing to the headmaster's left, was their form tutor. Mr Jones was only in his second year of teaching, and the boys adored him. That would be one of the worst parts of this punishment - Mr Jones would be the witness to their hidings, and the boys dreaded him seeing them cry as the headmaster would lay the cane across their bottoms. And they would cry – no doubt about that. Boys always cried after hidings from sir, he caned so hard!

Mr Jones enjoyed the sight of the two nervous children. Timothy was a tall, dark haired boy, seldom in trouble. His big blue eyes were fixed to the cane that the headmaster was flexing. Secretly, the form tutor was looking forward to watching this good-looking child being thrashed. But the excitement of watching Timmy getting caned was nothing compared to the enthusiasm that the young teacher had for seeing Murray's bottom getting whipped. Murray was a naturally naughty boy, and, although the boys had not admitted it, it would have undoubtedly been Murray's idea to vandalise the desks. Slightly shorter than Timothy, Murray was an excellent sportsman, with a strong, sun tanned, sturdy body - capped with a mop of fine blond hair. His blue eyes were brimming with tears. Mr Jones knew that Murray had been caned before, but not very severely. Enough though, that the pre-teen had an inkling as to how sore his hiding would be. The little boys muscular bronzed legs shook visibly as the headmaster continued to lecture them. Then it was time to begin.

"Murray, wait outside please. Timothy, I will deal with you first. Remove your shorts and underpants and give them to Mr Jones"

Murray quickly let himself out of the office, softly closing the door behind him, as the other boy slowly unclipped his shorts and let them drop to his ankles. There was silence in the office for what seemed to be a very long time, then came the distinctive crack of the cane on a boy's bottom. Timothy's hiding had begun! After a long pause, the sound of the cane connecting with boy flesh sounded again, and then again. There was an even longer pause, then the 4th crack of the feared stick on his friends backside could be heard through the closed door. Another long wait before the 5th stroke landed, and Murray jumped. It sounded as if Sir was really caning hard! It took ages, and Murray thought that perhaps Timothy's hiding was over, but the sound of the cane cracking across a boys bare bottom came again, and then Murray knew it! Six of the best! That would be the most he had ever had! And on the bare bottom!

It took ages. There was silence in the office, and Murray got more and more nervous. He wished Timothy would just come out now and he could get his hiding over and done with. Eventually, the door slowly opened, and Timothy shuffled out. His face was red and wet with tears, and he would not look at Murray as he passed the other boy. But Murray noted how his friend gripped his bottom with both hands, desperately trying to rub and squeeze the pain out of it. Normally, he would have teased a classmate for rubbing his recently thrashed bottom like that, but suddenly, knowing that his bottom was the next to encounter the headmaster's cane, it didn't seem at all funny. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Mr Jones's voice. The man was standing, looking at him with a funny expression on his face, holding the door open, "In you come, Murray, it's your turn to get your backside tanned!"

The headmaster was standing beside his desk, tapping the cane lightly on his leg. In the middle of the room was a low backed chair. Murray knew that chair - he had been made to bend over the back of it once before, for three lashes with the cane, but over his shorts and underpants. Instinctively, the pretty little blond eleven-year-old stepped to the chair and waited for his orders. They came as no surprise, "Bare your bottom, Murray," the headmaster gestured vaguely with the cane, "just like Timothy - hand your shorts and underpants to Mr Jones."

Slowly, reluctantly, the 6th grade boy unclipped his blue school shorts and let them drop to the floor. He bent and picked them up, giving his form tutor a mouth-watering hint of the shape of his rounded little buttocks, thinly clad in his dark green, skimpy underpants. He handed the man his shorts, and then gripped the waistband of his undies and more slowly lowered them off his bottom cheeks and down his legs. Mr Jones got an even better view this time of the boys pert little bum as he reached down. The man slowly, carefully folded the boy's shorts, letting Murray stand awkwardly, holding out his underpants. When both garments had been neatly placed on a table, Mr Jones patted the back of the chair meaningfully, and commanded, rather unnecessarily, "Bend over, Murray. Make sure that you keep your feet well apart, your head down, and your bottom right up please."

Murray might have only been 11 years old, but he knew how to bend over for the cane, and was slightly offended that his form tutor felt the need to remind him of how to bend for a hiding. Nevertheless, the little, half naked boy positioned him self perfectly, but couldn't resist a little shiver as he felt the form tutor lift his shirt right up to just below his shoulders. He felt terribly exposed to the two men who were about to punish him severely. He was even more startled, but managed to keep still, when Mr Jones likely patted his bare bottom with his hand. "This bottom is unmarked, Headmaster. He can certainly take his thrashing."

The headmaster walked over to the bending boy and Mr Jones stepped aside. Secretly, he too enjoy these sessions, and Murray was indeed a lovely looking little boy. His white bottom almost glowed in its contrast to his tanned legs and back. He too patted the naked pre-teens rump, noting that although the boys cheeks were nice and soft, they were also pretty muscular and resilient. Perfect for a sound thrashing with his cane. His favourite kind of boys backside. He stepped to the side and slowly traced the tip of his cane across Murrays tightly bent bum cheeks, then tapped each little mound softly, enjoying the obvious nervousness of the boy and the goose bumps that were rising on the lads small bottom. Unable to resist, he reached down with his hand again, easily taking both cheeks in one large hand and squeezing them. He had done the same with Timothy's slightly broader bottom, but Murray's was much nicer. Then he resumed the tapping on the boy's rear end with the cane. "I cannot allow your behaviour to be rewarded by anything less than a severe thrashing, young man. I intend to teach you a good, traditional lesson. You shall receive a sound, old fashioned, bare bottomed six of the best! I hope that it teaches you a lesson."

"Yes sir," Murray did not know what else to say, "thank you sir."

"You will count each stroke and thank me for it, boy," the headmaster explained, "then I will know that you are ready for the next lash."

Murray just nodded his head, and gripped the seat are of the chair as hard as he could. The three lashes that he had received in that same bending position had been terrible! And then he had not been bare bottomed, like he was now. How was he going to manage to last through this hiding? The cane felt very scary tapping and stroking his exposed little bum. But when the sensation of the stick on his backside disappeared, the pre-teen knew that his hiding was about to begin! The first stroke cracked down, exactly halfway down his bottom, the stripe of pain evenly spread across both pale cheeks. For a millisecond, the only thing that registered in the little boys mind was the unexpectedly loud sound that the cane had made as it connected with his backside, but then the pain exploded across his bare bottom, and the half naked pre-teen felt as if his rear end had been set alight. The agony of that first lash was excruciating! How would the little blond child last through another five such lashes? Now he knew why the pace of the strokes for Timothy's hiding had been so slow - he took ages to get his breath back and absorb the pain of his first ever bare bottomed lash with the cane. But eventually, Murray brought himself under control, "One, thank you sir!" the grade six boy sobbed. How embarrassing! Even when he had had his previously worst hiding, he hadn't cried until the third lash. And here he was, crying after just one!

Both men had enjoyed the sound of the cane cracking into Murray's lovely little up raised bottom, but had enjoyed the reaction of the punished little boy even more as his mind absorbed the pain that the cane had created across his tender little hind quarters. The lad had remained remarkably still as the blood had rushed to the injury, and a scarlet welt had started to rise across his previously unblemished, white little cheeks

There was a pause, and the boy braced himself. This time, he actually heard the cane swishing through the air, and it took a lot of self control to keep still, bottom raised, knowing that that awful stick was descending towards his exposed cheeks. The cane landed just under the first stripe, causing the eleven year old to squeal with pain. No delay this time – his bottom was coming to terms with what was happening to it, and his whole body plunged as it sent its message of agony to his brain. The men enjoyed the writhing of the boy as the second weal formed across his small naked buttocks.

"Two, thank you sir," the preteen whimpered, and the headmaster swung the stick again. He had a simple rule when administering hidings to the little boys in his prep school. He applied the cane hard – very hard. And the boys knew it. Thats why hidings from him were considered a very severe sanction, and the lads tried hard to be on their best behaviour to avoid his dreaded stick. But boys will be boys, and he regularly had the pleasure of tanning their little backsides. Not often bare, like this one, but he did that when he could.

The cane landed lower still, and for the third time, Murray rode the incredible waves of pain that emanated from the fresh stripe across his bare bottom. This hiding was far worse than he had expected, and the little boy struggled to resist the urge to put his hands behind them, to protect his bare bum from the terrible agony that was being laid across it. But instead he kept his naked, exposed and tender little rear end up, submissively taking his punishment. After a long pause, where he tried to prepare himself for the pain that he knew would follow, the preteen thanked the headmaster again, counting the stroke.

The man accurately whipped the stick vigorously into the sensitive meat of Murrays under – bottom, this time actually getting a wail for his efforts. Murray slammed his legs together, instinctively clenching his buttocks as the fire from this hefty stroke and follow through was absorbed. Every thought had been driven from his mind as he struggled to absorb the agony that seemed to be coursing through his whole bottom, sinking down his legs, across his groin and dominating his very being. But even now, his bottom absolutely on fire, the little boy did not once question the severity of his punishment. He was a boy, like most in his school, who accepted the consequences of his actions. He had been very naughty, and this was what he deserved.

"Get those feet apart!" the headmaster ordered, tapping the boys legs gently, reminding the child of the punishment etiquette and procedure.

"Four, sir," the little lad cried, spreading his trembling legs again, exposing his bottom to further sound thrashing, but still writhing pitifully, "thank you." The order of the script had changed, but Murray hardly noticed – and the headmaster didnt mind. It showed that the agony that he was administering to Murrays bottom was well out in front of the rest of his thoughts. Mission accomplished.

"Feet further apart," slowly the boy obeyed, opening his little bum up even further than he had before, "and stand still!"

Instinctively obedient, Murray froze, his bare small bottom, four scarlet, and already starting to bruise, red welts decorating the white, rounded cheeks, upraised and ready. The headmaster cracked the cane down again, just above the boys legs, ensuring that he made contact with the boys bottom with the end of his cane – the part that moves through the air at the highest velocity. Murrays reaction was just as amusing as before. The preteen plunged his body over the chair, but this time didnt dare to put his legs together, or even make the slightest effort to move his rear end from the flight path of the cane. He must have realized that he had only one to go – the hiding was nearly over.

It took ages for the crying eleven year old to thank the headmaster and count the lash, but even when he did, the man didnt cane him immediately. Instead, he slowly tapped the cane in the crease between Murrays white bare bottom, and his sun tanned legs. This would be where the last lash would land – and this would be the lash that the boy felt every time he sat down for a couple of days. He caned the child with all his skill and technique, loving the way in which the preteen lunged forward, his back arching with the pain of it. But, now that it was over, the boy counted more quickly, obviously eager for a chance to soothe his aching bottom, but not daring to get up. "Six, thank you sir."

After putting the cane away, the headmaster let the boy get up at last and rub his bottom. The child shook both mens hands, apologized for his behaviour and thanked them for his hiding. Only then was he given his shorts and undies back and allowed to put them on. Like Timothy, Murray slowly hobbled off down the corridor, head down, hands firmly clutching well beaten backside.


More stories by Tristan