A Dubious Honour!

by Skinpang <Wacwell@bushinternet.com>

Oscar Moorgrass is what one might describe as an average sort of fourteen year old. Not a bad lad, but like all boys, given to breaking the odd school rule when he thinks he can get away with it. He attends the Ponder Vale Boys School and cycles the two miles from his home to the school. Oscar is an early bird, arriving at school about half an hour before lessons begin. One rule which he used to break regularly - and here he was far from the only one - was to ride his bicycle inside the school grounds as there were never any masters about at that time of the morning. I say used to because one day something happened which was to cure him of that little indiscretion for good. He had arrived early as usual that morning and peddled through the gates into the school grounds. He zoomed round the corner of one of the buildings and crashed headlong into Mr Crabbe, the history teacher! Mr Crabbe was knocked to the ground and suffered a gash on his leg, while Oscar was sent flying over the handlebars and slid along the gravel path sustaining grazing on both knees and on the palms of his hands!

Both Mr Crabbe and Oscar were taken to a nearby clinic. Fortunately, neither were seriously hurt but they both missed their first period at school. The master had been bandaged up and Oscar had plasters put on the palms of his hands and on his knees. Oscar, of course, had apologised profusely to a fuming Mr Crabbe. Inevitably Oscar found himself in the headmaster's office. He knew that the penalty would certainly be the cane, but he consoled himself with the fact that it could not happen that week because the palms of his hands were covered with plasters! Oscar had had the cane before; two strokes on each hand. He remembered the excruciating agony and how he had squeezed his hands into tight fists for several minutes to try and relieve the pain, but providing a boy can hold back the tears he is considered to be a hero by the other boys. The headmaster viewed the incident very seriously and the boy was given a lengthy and angry lecture.

"And now," said the headmaster, "I am going to give you the cane!"

"But sir!" exclaimed Oscar, holding open his plastered hands toward the headmaster. A rare grin came over the headmaster's face!

"Yes, Moorgrass! I know that you have injured hands! The hands are not the only parts of a boy's anatomy to which a cane may be applied!"

Oscar froze temporarily and a feeling of shock came over him! Surely that could only mean the bottom! Boys at Polder Vale only ever got caned on the hands! He would be the butt of all his classmates jokes (forgive the pun!). The only boy ever to get whacked on the backside at the school! And if it was going to hurt like it did on the hands he knew that he was not going to conceal it when he went back to his class!

"B-b-but nobody ever gets caned er-er- there at this school sir!" pleaded Oscar."

"Where, Moorgrass?" enquired the headmaster who seemed to be enjoying the situation.

Oscar swallowed hard! "Er-er-er on the bottom sir?"

"Well done, Moorgrass!" said the headmaster with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, "You are absolutely correct! There's a first time for everything! You will have the somewhat dubious honour of being the only boy to get a sore behind at Polder Vale!"

"Please sir! Can't I be caned on my hands next week when my hands are better?" asked Oscar in desperation.

"Don't argue with me, boy! You are going to get it on your posterior here and now!"

Oscar now felt resigned to his fate. He made no more comments lest it made the situation even worse for him. The headmaster picked up his cane.

"Come here and bend over my desk, Moorgrass!" ordered the headmaster.

Oscar positioned himself across the desk. He felt the tail of his blazer being pulled up to the small of his back and then a cold shiver went through him as he felt the cane being tapped gently on his rear end!

"The usual punishment is four strokes on the hands, but as your bottom has a pair of trousers to give it somewhat limited protection I shall make it six strokes! If you attempt to get up or put your hand behind you I shall give you extra strokes!"

Swish CRACK!

Oscar clenched his teeth together to prevent himself calling out. It felt as if somebody had stabbed him on the behind with a sharp knife!

Swish CRACK!

The excruciating pain seemed to go right through his body. At least after two strokes on the hand he had been able to wave it about and squeeze it into a fist to relieve the agony while the other hand was awaiting it's turn, but there was nothing he could do to quell the fire raging in both bum-cheeks!

Swish CRACK!....Swish CRACK!

Somehow he managed to prevent himself calling out. He was gripping the side of the desk top for all he was worth. "Stick it out now, Oscar!" he told himself, "It will soon be over!"

Swish CRACK!....Swish CRACK!

He straightened up without waiting to be told and grabbed hold of his bottom with both hands! At least, much to his surprise, he had taken it without calling out. He wanted to cry, but he was not going to give in now! He could not, however, hide the look of agony on his face! The pain was rising to it's full height about every fifteen seconds and then dropping away slightly. Every time it reached it's peak he would hold his breath, clench his teeth together, and squeeze his eyes shut. For a few moments the headmaster just stood and watched this performance!

"Come along with me, Moorgrass. I'm taking you straight back to your classroom! You have lost enough time already this morning!"

As the headmaster entered the classroom the boys stood up. He motioned them to sit down. Try as he might, Oscar could not bring himself to to remove his hands from his bottom. The grinning faces showed that nobody was in any doubt as to what had happened to him!

"I have brought Moorgrass back, Mr Stuart," announced the headmaster, "I think perhaps you should allow him to remain standing for a while!"

As soon as the headmaster had closed the door behind him there was a chorus of giggling from the class! Mr Stuart put a finger to his lips to indicate to the boys to quieten down. Had this been a school where caning was normally on the sit-upon Oscar would perhaps have been just another statistic; but as it was he had become the joke of the week! He went to his desk and stood behind it still holding tight to his burning cheeks for about ten minutes until the worst of the sting had subsided, then tentatively he lowered himself slowly onto his chair taking most of his weight on his elbows on the desk, all eyes watching this delicate maneuver!

As he had expected, Oscar was ribbed unmercifully at break time! Even his closest friends thought that it was hilariously funny, and it was inevitable with a surname like his that they were calling him "Sore arse Moorgrass!" He knew that he would just have to grin and bear it until it all died down, or at least bear it; his sore bottom was not giving him anything to grin about! But Oscar was perhaps to have the last laugh on the next week. At the end of the Monday morning assembly the headmaster stood up.

"I have an announcement to make." he began, "As you are no doubt aware, last week, due to circumstances beyond my control, it became necessary for me to cane a boy on a part of his anatomy other than his hands!" - all eyes turned towards Oscar - "I have come to the conclusion that this is a superior method of administering corporal punishment. In future all boys who are awarded the cane will receive it on their posteriors! This will take effect as from today! That is all! You may now return to your classrooms."

The boys filed out of the hall looking rather stunned by the news. Just one boy was smiling. Oscar had started something! He may have been the first to get a sore arse at Polder Vale, but he was certainly not going to be the last!

More stories by Skinpang