This describes the same incident as "Torn book 1". One version is based on the real event........many years ago.
I was a pupil at medium sized, rural village primary school in the 1950's in England and corporal punishment was taken for granted. Our class of girls and boys around the ages of 9 or 10 had a Mr Jones as form master. He was probably in his early thirties (children often have little idea of the true age of adults !) demobilised from the army only a year or two earlier and (to us) very large and fit. The school was late Victorian with high ceilings and tall windows which opened at the top with a pole. Desks were arranged formally in rows. They were iron-framed with oak lifting tops, an ink-well and a counterbalanced lifting seat. I sat next to my friend Michael on the back row. We considered this a privilege, as troublemakers had to sit near to the front.
On the fateful day a new book was being distributed around the class. This was quite an event as those were times of general deprivation . Being at the back of the class meant we were the last to receive the books. There was one short and Michael was empty-handed. He made a grab for my book. There was a loud ripping noise and before we realised what had happened, the book was in two halves on the desk in front of us. The gasps of horror from the boys and girls around us attracted "Sirs" attention. He strode up the classroom to tower over us. "You two boys will remain behind at the end of school", he said severely.
The remainder of the afternoon seemed to pass in a haze. What on earth would happen to us for committing such a heinous crime! Minor misdemeanours were routinely dealt with by a couple of strokes of the strap on each hand. This leather strap was much feared by all of us. It was a little over a foot long by an inch and a half wide and so thick that it drooped down in a curve when held out. The end was cut for an inch or two into a number of tails. The bell sounded for the end of school and our classmates filed happily out. Michael and I remained at our desks. Sir was marking books. Finally he motioned for us to come forward. "Take off your blazers and your shoes", he said, "and then stand with your hands on your head facing the blackboard. I am going to see Miss Saltmarsh." (she was the headmistress of the school). We both stood there as told. In the distant playground we could hear the shouts of our friends as they made their way home. Most of the younger children would be met by their mothers outside the school gate but "big" boys and girls usually walked home alone or with friends. Mothers vied with each other in turning out their children immaculately and our Mums were no exceptions. Black shoes were polished every evening , long grey socks with a red band at the top pulled up with the ribs straight –in the morning at least, scrupulously ironed grey shorts and shirt and white vest and pants clean every day.
Sir seemed to be gone for ages but finally he strode into the room. "Turn around and you can put your hands down"."Miss Saltmarsh agrees that you shall be severely punished". He strode to his desk and retrieved the dreaded strap from the draw. He pointed at Michael. "Take your shorts and pants off". Sir went to the big cupboard and took a large thick book from the top shelf. He placed it on the top of a desk in the front row so that a couple of inches protruded over the edge. Michael was holding his shorts and pants and Sir took them and placed them on his desk. He then lifted Michael's shirt and vest up under his arms and picking him up draped him carefully over the book. He then moved his legs to lie either side of the book. Michael looked to be in a most uncomfortable position. His bottom was high in the air whilst his legs were forced wide apart by the book. One of his socks was still up and fairly straight but the other had fallen and was bunched around his ankle. Sir now stood to Michael's right side and lifting the strap up high he brought it down with a tremendous crack right across the middle of his two cheeks. Almost at once a crimson stripe appeared. Two more followed further down the cheeks and I could hear Michael gasping and sobbing. Sir then moved closer to the sobbing boy and swung the strap down diagonally across the right cheek so that the end curved into the lowest inside part.. This must have been very painful because Michael started yelling loudly. His cries became more desperate as two more tremendous whacks followed. Sir went to Michael's left side and gave him six more in the same fashion. THWACK! Ahhh THWACK no sir T HWACK! please sir no more SMACK! THWACK! THWACK! . Although Sir gave them now with his left hand the cracks were no less loud. Michael kicked his legs and both socks were then around his ankles. His bottom was completely crimson with several purplish areas where the tip of the strap had made contact. I felt as though I was going to wet myself as I stood there shaking and waiting for my turn. Sir picked the bawling Michael up under his arms and stood him in front of the blackboard putting his hands on his head. Sir just pointed at my shorts and with shaking hands I unclipped the elastic belt and pulled shorts and pants down and stepped out of them. Sir put his hands on my hips and slid them up to under my arms taking shirt and vest up with them. He carried me across to the desk with the book and laying me over it he pushed my legs to either side of the book. The edges dug in painfully and I the air felt cool as it wafted around my totally vulnerable body. CRACK! Immediately a searingly hot pain flashed across my bottom. SMACK, CRACK! Hot tears spurted on to my face and I felt utterly helpless. THWACK! Hell this was terrible. My bottom was on fire. THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! . The rest of my punishment was lost in a haze of mounting pain as my lungs opened, that dreadful strap bit into my bottom and the book dug excruciatingly into my legs as I kicked them. Strong hands were soon under my arms and I was stood alongside of my friend, Sir firmly removing my hands from clutching my red hot bottom and placing them on my head.
In a while he came over to us, took out a large handkerchief, dried our eyes and blew our noses. He gave our pants and shorts and we gingerly but gratefully pulled them back on. "I hope that was a lesson you will never forget. When your Mother finds out why you are late home I expect she'll give you another hiding. Now go – and stay out of trouble." Needless to say, neither of our mothers found out, although I nearly gave the game away when I sat down to dinner and winced!