During my childhood we spend a few years in Calcutta. I was nine when we moved there. India is one of the poorest countries in the world, but my family always had everything we needed. I never really got to see the poor side of the country since the community we lived in was mostly American.
I attended an American school while in Calcutta. There were both American and Indian children there, and even some from other countries. Just like almost all schools in India at the time, corporal punishment was practiced. Back in the U. S. I had never attended a school where corporal punishment was allowed, so it was all new to me and unbelievable at first.
Each day the teacher wrote names of students who misbehaved on the blackboard. Each time after that a checkmark was added next to their name. If there was a checkmark next to a boy's name on the board then they were punished by the headmaster. I learned just how boys were punished during my second week at the school.
Every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon the headmaster made his rounds to each classroom, punishing the boys whose names appeared on the board with a checkmark. I first got to witness this on Tuesday during my second week at the school. The headmaster, an India native, showed up at our classroom carrying a cane in his hand. Since we were in the classroom closest to his office, our classroom was the first he visited. There were two boys in my class whose names appeared on the board and they were called forward. Right there in front of the entire class the headmaster went up to one of the boys, unfastened his black uniform pants and pulled them down. He then proceeded to pull down the boy's underwear, exposing him in front to the entire class. The boy looked totally humiliated, but the rest of the class acted as though it was no big deal. They were all well-familiar with the procedure and had seen it countless times. I on the other hand couldn't believe what I was seeing. The boy lied across a desktop, his shirt-tail was raised, and then he was given six full-force strokes of the cane across his bare buttocks. It looked extremely painful, and the boy's shrieks told you that it indeed was. After six strokes the boy's bottom was covered with dark red welts and blood had been drawn. The procedure was repeated with the next boy.
Every Tuesday and Thursday without fail the headmaster showed up and caned each boy in front of the class whose names were on the board with a checkmark. For one checkmark six strokes were given, which was enough to leave welts and draw blood. Three stokes were added for each extra checkmark, so sometimes a boy's bottom was left in a pretty severe state. You could always hear the screams of the other boys in the other classes while they were being caned.
I managed to escape punishment up until the second to the last month of school. I can't begin to describe my feelings as the headmaster walked in that afternoon, knowing that I was going to be caned. I stood in front of my class after being called up, and I tried to block out what was happening. The headmaster pulled down my pants and underwear, exposing my small penis to the rest of my class. God I had never been so mortified in my life. I then had to take my position across the desktop. That first stroke across my bare bottom felt as though I had sat on a grill. I screamed as loud as I could. I received six full-force cuts that day, and I realized why canings were given at the end of the day because there was no way a boy could be expected to sit down after that.
Later on at home my dad helped peel off my blood-stained underpants. He then rubbed ointment all over my very sore, welted bottom. It would be days before the marks disappeared.
I remained at this school until I was fourteen. By then I don't know how many canings I had witnessed. I understood how it became just a normal thing that was no big deal to the class, but I'm sure that some of the boys as I enjoyed seeing our classmates get the cane. In fact I was fascinated by it. I enjoyed looking at their genitals when exposed to the class and then to see their naked butts bloodied and welted by the cane as they howled in agony. It was around this age when I began to _s_e_x_ually experiment with other boys my age and even younger. As I got older I developed a strong desire to wanting to be caned.