This happened to me when I was thirteen and was away at camp with the Scouts.
It all came about because on a silly impulse I did something dishonest and pretty mean, something I had never done before and which I felt bad about immediately afterwards.
There was a tent where they stored sweets and crisps which they sold to the kids and one day when I thought no one was looking I put my hand under the tent wall at the back and filched two chocolate bars.
But Brian Jones one of the senior scouts, a guy about nineteen, saw me and called me to his tent and made me turn out my pockets. When he found out what I'd done he gave me a lecture on my behaviour, explaining that what I had done amounted to stealing from my friends. By the time he had finished I felt really bad about it.
Then to my great consternation he told me he was going to report me to the Camp Leader, which meant my parents would be told and that was the very last thing I wanted. I had never stolen anything before and I knew they would be really upset and I begged him not to report me.
In response to my pleading Brian said he would give me a choice. Instead of being reported to the Camp Leader he offered me an alternative; what he called an 'unofficial old fashioned' punishment. At first I didn't understand what he meant but it soon became clear that what he was offering me was something my father had once told me about.
I remembered him telling me when he was at school, boys who misbehaved were punished by being whacked on their hands or their bottoms with canes or straps, indeed he told me he himself had been punished like that on a number of occasions. But by the time I went to school the use of the cane and the strap had long been abolished and so I had no experience of being punished in that way.
Brian said if I agreed, instead of reporting me he would give me two strokes of the cane and that would be the end of the matter and he wouldn't report me but, he said, the choice was mine.
It seemed to me that just two whacks wouldn't be too bad; after all, my Dad told me he had had six and he survived to tell the tale. I decided it would be better to get it over with and so I told Brian I'd have the cane.
He asked me if I wanted to take it on my hands or my bottom. I thought that if it was going to make red marks on me someone might notice them on my hands and start asking questions so I told Brian I would prefer to take it on my bottom.
At the far side of the field was a cabin where the tents were stored during the Winter and he told me to meet him there ten minutes later. He said I was to wear a shirt and my Scout shorts but no underwear.
I remember my feelings about my forthcoming punishment were somewhat ambivalent at this point. On the one hand I was relieved that I was going to get it over with quickly with no one else finding out what I'd done but on the other hand, I began to feel the cold hand of fear clutching my stomach and I wondered how much it was going to hurt and if it would make me cry.
When I got back to my tent I dressed as Brian had told me and then walked over to the cabin.
Stepping in out of the bright sunlight made it difficult to see at first but I heard him tell me to come in and shut the door. As my eyes became accustomed to the semi darkness I could see him sitting on a chair to one side. In the centre of the cabin was a log about a foot high standing on its end and laying on the log was the cane he was going to use on me.
I suppose I was expecting the cane to look like the ones you see carried by shoolmasters in childrens comic magazines - made from knobbly bamboo with the end curved into a handle like a walking stick. But it wasn't like that, this one was just a smooth straight stick about 3ft long and a bit thicker than a pencil and I noticed when Brian picked it up, it was whippy and flexible.
He told me to stand in front of the log.
'Take your belt off and hand it over'
An appalling thought struck me and there was a note of panic in my voice. 'I don't have take my shorts down do I?'
'No, you keep your shorts on but I'm taking your belt partly to make you feel a little foolish and partly because a boy with no underpants and in danger of his shorts falling down is less likely make any sudden moves'.
I pulled my scout belt out of the loops of my shorts which were very loose fitting and gave it to him and he put it on his chair. He came and stood behind me and hitched my shirt high up round my chest and fixed it whilst I clung for dear life on to my sagging shorts to preserve my modesty.
'Are you wearing underpants ?'
'No, I took them off like you said'
'I'm just going to make sure you have'
I thought for a moment he was going to make me lower my shorts and show him my nakedness but instead he slipped his hand down inside and swept his palm across my abdomen. He slid his hand across me and I flinched with embarrassment as the tips of his fingers lightly touched the root of my penis and rested there for two or three seconds. Then he smoothed his hand round the cheeks my bottom.
When he was satisfied I had nothing on under my shorts he picked up the cane and flexed it in front of me.
'Have you been caned before ?'
I shook my head - my eyes were fixed on the cane as Brian made a couple of practice swings.
'Are you sure this is what you prefer? It's not too late to change your mind'.
I mumbled my assent
'Right, feet together, bend over and put your hands flat on the log. Don't straighten up until I tell you'.
I doubled right over so that my bottom was stretched really tight against my shorts and I could feel the blood pounding in my ears.
After a few moments I heard an angry hiss as Brian whipped the cane horizontally across at waist height. It was followed by a sharp crack as it struck my upturned bottom, the sound magnified by the confined space of the cabin.
For about three seconds I felt nothing and then a wave of pain swept across my bottom. At first it felt as thought something was burning me and I wriggled as if trying to shake it off. After a few seconds it subsided and became more bearable.
'Stay there, I'll let that one sink in before I give you the next stroke.'
It seemed like an age but was probably about half a minute before the cane hissed and cracked again against my bottom. A second crescendo of pain engulfed me and set my bottom wriggling again.
'O. K. you can stand up now - just come over here'.
He sat down in his chair and I stood facing him clutching my shorts with one hand and rubbing my cheeks with the other and feeling slightly dizzy. My bottom was really stinging now and tears were flowing down my face.
'Don't worry the worst of the sting wears off before long. Just stand there for a few minutes - I don't expect you want to sit down just yet'.
I nodded and blinked my tears away.
Then he said, 'I want you to put your hands on your head for a minute'
'Can I have my belt back ?'
'In a minute, just put your hands on your head'
I was just begining to show the first signs of puberty and I was very self conscious about my body at that time.
'Oh please Brian, I need my belt. My shorts will fall down'.
'Don't worry about your shorts. I want to have a look at you anyway'.
For me this seemed worse than the caning. Embarrassed, I let go my shorts and they immediately fell to my ankles. I saw his eyes drop down and rest on my penis. He just sat there looking at me.
'Are you showing me your _c_o_c_k_ for any particular reason ?'
'No .. er, I er .....
Well turn round then boy, it's your bum I need to see'.
I felt really stupid as I turned my back to him so that he could inspect my burning cheeks.
'Yes, I think that looks uncomfortable enough - you can pull your shorts up and go now.'
I ran off into the woods to be by myself for a while. After about fifteen minutes the stinging wasn't so bad and I had calmed down. I made my way back to the camp.
I got back just as the other boys were leaving for a trip out to the woods. I went into my tent to change, I took my shorts off and I was just fishing my underpants and jeans out of my kit when Mr Williams, one of our Scout leaders, came into my tent to hurry me up. I quickly pulled my shirt down to cover myself but I was too late, he saw the two red weals on my bottom, recognised them for what they were and demanded to know who had caned me and why.
I wouldn't tell him - all I would say was I'd done something really bad and I'd agreed to be punished for it and it was all over now. I didn't tell him it was Brian - I somehow sensed he would be in trouble if it became known what he'd done to me. In the end Mr. Williams gave up trying to find out but he insisted on photographing me so there would be some evidence if I were to change my mind and make a complaint.
So when all the others had left for the woods he came back with his camera and he made me undress and stand outside my tent naked, cringing with embarrassment while he photographed my bottom. A couple of weeks after the camp he gave me the photograph and urged me to make a complaint about whoever had done it to me.
I never did complain though or let on who it was - I didn't think there was anything to complain about, after all I had chosen the punishment. At the time I didn't think I'd been punished too hard - it hurt of course, but the weals disappeared after two or three days. Looking back on it I still don't think it was an unreasonable punishment in the circumstances.