After their caning (see Cane Mark 1) the three boys made their slow way to the washrooms. There they washed their faces, Mark gladly wiping away his shameful tears. Ian finished his ablutions first and stepped back from the wash basin. It had by no means been his first time for the cane but he saw no reason to pretend to his friends that it hadn't hurt. They jolly well knew that it had.
Ian rubbed his throbbing bottom experimentally, through his grey school trousers. "That smarts!" he said, in a passable imitation of Huckleberry Hound from the cartoons on TV. The other two boys were both bending over wash basins, gasping quietly as they came to terms with the smarting in their own rears. Suddenly, Steve stood upright.
"Come on, lads!" he said, "Let's take a look at the damage! Get your pants down!"
The school was deserted at that time, so there seemed to be small risk of discovery. Ian immediately smiled and started to unbuckle his belt. Mark was more reluctant to do so, but he followed the other boy's lead. Steve stood back intent on comparing the marks on the two boys' bottoms. Afterwards he would follow suit and reveal his own bottom, allowing the other boys to compare it in turn.
Lowering his trousers was no problem for Mark, but his underpants were more problematic. He decided to yank them off in one quick go over his swollen bottom, like ripping a plaster off. He gasped as he did so: "Ow!!"
To some extent the cool draft from the partly opened washroom window eased the incredible sting. Mark wriggled his bottom slightly in gratitude.
Mark and Ian bent back over the wash basins, their trousers and pants about their heels. Steve stood back to survey the two caned bottoms more carefully.
The careful grouping used by Mr Barlow on Ian's backside was very evident. A two inch band stood out from the pale flesh of his bottom, purple-red and corrugated with raised welts, weeping where they had been crossed by the final stroke. Mark's bottom, too, bore no less eloquent evidence that he had suffered a sound caning. His weals were more spread out and not quite so raised as those on Ian's bottom, but it was obvious that each stroke he had received had left its painful mark.
Steve was just leaning forward to gently touch a prominent weal on Ian's bottom when the door to the washrooms opened suddenly!
Three startled boys whipped round suddenly, Ian and Mark covering themselves as best they could. It was Mr Brown!
"_s_h_i_t_!" thought Mark, narrowly avoiding expressing his thoughts verbally. Of all the teachers in the school Mr Brown was the last one he would have wanted to find him back this. He had only been at the school a short time, and had never been in a class taken by the maths teacher, but he already knew that Mr Brown's nickname was "Vicious Bastard" Brown! Other teachers might have smiled and just told the boys to get dressed and get out of the school. Somehow Mark didn't think that Mr Brown would see things that way. And from the expressions on their faces, his friends agreed with him.
Mark and Ian hurriedly started to pull up their pants. Only to be stopped by Mr Brown!
"Not so fast! I think we'll keep those down! Warman and Lovell, isn't it? And what's your name, boy?"
"Truman, sir! Can't we pull our trousers up?"
"No boy, you may not! Lovell, you appear to be the only one here in a state of decency! Go to Mr Harrison in the detention classroom, give him my compliments, and ask him if I may borrow his slipper!"
"Oh, no sir, please! You can see we've all just been whacked by Mr Barlow."
"Well, it obviously hasn't taught you your lesson! Standing around here half naked and feeling one another! Let's see if a slippering from me is any more effective. Now get going, Lovell, and don't waste time!"
Steve stood still for a moment. He realised that disobedience would only result in the three of them making another visit to Mr Barlow's office. He didn't want that. With a sigh he turned and walked out of the washroom, leaving his two friends there with Mr Brown, their faces as red as their rears.
Every step reminded him of his recent caning and of just how awful a dose of the slipper would be on top. He reached classroom 13 and knocked on the door. Mr Harrison answered in a slightly surprised voice: "Come in!"
As Steve entered the classroom he immediately realised that Mr Harrison would not have to go looking for the slipper. The teacher was holding it in his hand. And the sight of a little first year bending over in front of the class showed why.
"Yes, what is it, Lovell?" asked Mr Harrison.
The entire class, with the exception of the bending first year, looked towards Steve with interest. There were few incidents interrupting the horrid boredom of a detention. Steve tried not to let his awful embarrassment show. "Mr Brown's compliments, sir, and could he borrow your slipper, please!"
"I see! Well, you'll have to wait a while. I'd better finish with young Lewis first. I'm sure he'd be very disappointed if he missed out on half his whacking!"
The detention class laughed dutifully. Several of them had already registered the fact that Steve looked as if he'd already had a severe whacking, himself.
Paul Lewis, the first year boy, had remained bent over during this exchange, his bottom, encased in tight short trousers wavering in the air. He knew better than to stand part way through a slippering. The teacher returned his attention to him. He drew his right arm back and then whipped the plimsoll forward so that its sole smacked down onto the little boy's small bottom. It wasn't a hard stroke, but it still sounded very loud as it slammed down onto the tightly stretched cotton.
Paul remained silent, his bottom still wavering in the air. Mr Harrison looked down, consideringly. Then, as if coming to a decision, he raised the plimsoll high and brought it down with more force than the previous whack. Paul stayed bent over, but this time he yelped at the sudden access of stinging to his already sore bottom.
"Stand up, Lewis! Return to your seat."
As Paul did so the teacher addressed the class:
"I'm going to lend this slipper to Lovell here, for Mr Brown. But you will not take advantage of this. That slipper will be back here soon, and any boy who misbehaves while it's away will be dealt with - severely - on its return!"
With that Mr Harrison handed the plimsoll to Steve and told him to take it back to Mr Brown.
* * *
As he walked slowly back along the deserted corridors, his arse still throbbing like hell, Steve dismally reflected on the further damage likely to be caused by the plimsoll he was carrying. It was a large (size 10) white gym shoe with a rubber sole, missing its laces. It was now dedicated to use as a punishment instrument and its sole was beginning to be smoothed by repeated sharp contact with the behinds of naughty boys. Although getting the slipper was always regarded as a much lesser punishment than getting the cane, teachers differed in the force they used. Some, like Mr Harrison, used a moderate amount of force. They made sure that the slipper really stung at the time, leaving the naughty boy with a really sore bottom for a few minutes. Others merely went through the motions, simply tapping it down and producing no more than a brief tingle. But others again, really laid it on, making sure that a slippering really hurt and leaving bruises that lasted for days. Mr Brown was one of these last.
It was no comfort to Steve but he reflected on his slow walk back that the other two might get it on the bare. At least he still had his trousers on!
Finally he got back to the washroom and reluctantly handed the slipper to Mr Brown. As he had expected Ian and Mark both still had their trousers and pants down, though they were now standing with their noses pressed tightly to a wall.
Mr Brown ordered Steve to join his friends and he went and stood next to Mark, facing the wall.
"Right! Truman, come out here! You're first! I don't like boys who come to this school and try to introduce their smoky little ways here."
Mark turned and hobbled towards the teacher, restricted both by the fact that his bum still felt as though it was on fire and by the trousers and pants around his ankles. With some amusement Mr Brown noted that Mark's little penis was erect. Perhaps the boy shared his own interest in corporal punishment, he wondered.
"Bend over, Truman! Touch your toes!"
Poor Mark! It was less than a quarter of an hour since his first ever caning, which had been a severe one for a boy of his age. Of the three boys his caning had been the most recent. Now he had to bend over again for the slipper, before his backside had had so much as a chance to recover and before he had even come to terms with the pain produced by the cane. and he guessed that Mr Brown hit rather harder than Miss Brown. Tears pricked at his eyes.
"Please, sir! We just had the cane from Mr Barlow. Can't you slipper us tomorrow, instead?"
Knowing Mr Brown's reputation as he did, Mark didn't dare to ask for more than a postponement of their punishment.
"No, boy! Punishment is more effective when it's closer to the offence. Bend over!"
From his place by the wall, Ian bravely chimed in: "Can't we at least pull our trousers up, sir? You don't have to whack us on the bare!"
"Be quiet, Warman! I didn't tell you or Truman to take your trousers down. You did that yourself. Well, now you will suffer the consequences! Lovell did not disgrace himself in the same way, so his slippering will be over his trousers."
Mark drew a deep breath and bent forward, the weals on his exposed bottom tightening as he did so. He took a grip of the waistband of his pants.
Mr Brown hefted the plimsoll above his shoulder. He twisted his body and slammed it down with full force. The rubber sole bounced deeply into the cane-wealed boy flesh with a terrific concussion that echoed round the small room.
"Aiyeee!!" yelled Mark, hopping madly from foot to foot. This was sheer agony. It was even worse than the original caning. Mark couldn't help himself. He started to cry again.
"Crying are you, boy?" the master enquired grimly. "I'll give you something to cry about!"
With that he raised the slipper once more and whacked it down with similar force. This time the sheer force of the blow toppled the boy forward. Mark lay on the ground, sobbing. As he fell, he grazed his knee but he didn't notice it - the urgent throbbing in his backside monopolised his attention.
Mr Brown did not show any mercy. He bent down and, grasping Mark's dark brown hair, dragged him upright.
"You are a little cry-baby, aren't you Truman?" the teacher enquired, derisively. Boys at this school take their punishments like men! You've got four strokes to come. And if you don't bend over right now, and stay bent over for all four, I'll get your friends to hold you in place. And that won't be for just six with the slipper, I can tell you that!"
Mark couldn't stop sobbing. But by an effort of will he forced himself to resume his position. Four more whacks followed, each echoing loudly around the room as it smacked into the schoolboy's unspeakably tender flesh. And each blow was followed by a wild answering yell from Mark as the stinging grew ever worse in an awful crescendo of pain.
Finally, it was all over - although poor Mark, who had lost count was not aware of it. He continued to sob like a baby in his bent over position even when the master told him to stand up.
Mr Brown pulled the boy upright by his hair, once again. Mark's organ was flaccid once more, he noted.
"Pants and trousers up, and get back over by the wall!" he ordered.
When the still weeping Mark was back in place, the teacher ordered Ian out and told him to bend over in his turn.
Mr Brown knew of Ian's reputation as a "hard nut" and took special care with his slippering. He made sure that each whack thudded in at full force on the caned area, aiming in particular to aggravate the diagonal weal that crossed the others. It was impossible, even for Ian, to remain completely still under the infliction, but he did not utter a sound throughout, although he was breathing rather heavily by the end.
As he stood up after the sixth whack he looked straight at Mr Brown and said. In half admiring tones: "Christ, sir! That hurt!"
"It was meant to, Warman," the teacher informed him, "let's hope it teaches you a lesson!"
Steve took his slippering in relative silence, too. He had the protection, for what it was worth, of his school trousers and pants but Mr Brown still walloped down that slipper with all his force. The slippering that Steve took would have constituted a good hiding by itself in normal times. On the boy's already caned bottom it was all but unbearable. Steve yelped loudly as each of the last three strokes smashed in onto the tightly stretched seat of his grey trousers. And when he was told to stand up after the sixth whack there were tears glistening on his pale cheeks.
The boys thought that their ordeal was finally at an end. But it was not so.
"I'm going to take this slipper back to Mr Harrison," announced the maths teacher, "and you three boys are coming with me!
"There's still about a quarter of an hour or so left until the end of detention and I think you three should stay there with the rest. You wanted to loiter about the school instead of going home when you should have. Well, now you can stay whether you want to or not!"
Mr Brown, however, did not seriously believe that any of the three boys would want sit down on the hard wooden seats of the detention class, writing out a deliberately boring task and all the time risking another slippering! But that's what was going to happen, anyway.
The maths teacher led the way to classroom 13. The three naughty boys found walking aggravated the pain radiating from their bottoms, but Mr Brown chivvied them to walk faster. Mark and Steve tried to surreptitiously wipe their tears away as they walked, but the teacher was having none of it - even gripping Mark by his left ear and pulling him along when he slowed down.
When they reached the detention room Mr Brown knocked on the door and ushered the three boys in before him. All eyes in the room turned towards the three boys, who had obviously "been through it" rather badly. Mark looked towards the floor in shame, but the other two boys noticed that one of the boys in detention was standing up in his place and not sitting down like the others. It was a boy from their class, Gary Morland. Gary was a small, bespectacled boy, not often in trouble.
"Carry on with your work, boys," snapped Mr Harrison, "there's no reason to take a break, unless you want to join Morland!"
Mr Brown returned the slipper to the detention master. "Thank you for lending me your slipper, I can assure you it's been used to good effect!
I would be grateful if you could add these three boys to your detention class for the last few minutes, just to ensure that they learn their lesson."
Mr Harrison had no objection. The three boys found vacant places and lowered themselves down onto the wooden seats very slowly and carefully. Even so, neither Mark nor Steve could avoid giving vent to an audible gasp as they sat down, and even Ian winced noticeably. Only when they were seated did Mr Brown leave the room.
The detention master handed the three newcomers paper and pens and told them to open their desks and take out a dictionary. Their task was to copy out its entries - backwards. When they had started at this futile but laborious task the teacher directed his attention back to Gary Morland, still standing in his place.
"Out to the front, Morland!" he barked.
Gary walked out, nervously.
"I warned you, didn't I? Any misbehaviour while I didn't have my slipper would be punished with severity. I meant what I said. I'm going to give you twelve strokes, Morland, and I will ensure that each stroke is a stinger!
Now, bend over!"
The teacher was as good as his word. He put his back into Gary's slippering and it was obvious to Steve that he was using a lot more force than he had done earlier. It was obvious to Gary, too. The short boy was yelling out and pleading for Mr Harrison to stop before his whacking was even half over. But the teacher did not stop until the full twelve strokes had been walloped down. Gary returned to his place in tears.
Later on Mark asked Gary what he had done to earn that slippering. But now he was just determined not to get one of his own. He copied out dictionary entries like an automaton, wriggling in his seat in intense discomfort.
There were no more slipperings until just before the end of the detention. Then Steve made the mistake of stopping work to look at his watch. Unfortunately for him, Mr Harrison spotted him.
"Out here, Lovell! Bend over!"
Steve had to take four solid swipes of the slipper, not so hard as those Gary had got but quite hard enough on his sore bottom. Mr Harrison took his time over the whacking, leaving almost a full minute between each swipe. Only when Steve had once again lowered his throbbing behind onto his seat did the teacher declare the detention over. When the class was dismissed all the other boys were eager to know what had happened to the three latecomers.
Mark wheeled his bicycle home. He didn't feel like riding it! He didn't go straight home, but took his time, trying to walk off the worst of the pain. Finally he approached his house. It was very late. He had no intention of telling his parents what had happened, but what was he to say? Trying to look as though nothing had happened Mark walked down the path towards the front door . . .