After the graphic demonstration on Williams of the discipline we would face, the whole group settled down to work through our first assignments.
I was concentrating on the History essay I needed to write, and lost track of time. Soon it was 12:30. The Headmaster said we could stop work. And everyone put their pencils down. We handed in our work, for appraisal, and were offered sandwiches from a selection that had been delivered from the kitchen. We were given 15 minutes to eat, and get a drink, before he called the class back to order.
He said: "Ok boys, we'll start the first afternoon session now". Then, pointing at me, he said "Martin, you have your special project to work on, so come with me".
I was startled, but got up and walked to the front of the class. The Head continued "the rest of you will be supervised by Mr Griffiths". At this, another teacher walked into the room. I could tell the other boys were nervous, as Griffith's reputation as a caner was severe. The Head continued "I don't need to remind you all, that he'll cane you every bit as severely as I would, if you step out of line". He then, to my alarm, pulled the leather paddle out from behind the desk, and pointed it towards me saying "I'll just bring this in case we need it - Ok Martin, come with me !"
I followed him out into the school's central quadrangle. He turned to me and said: "Now Martin, this is the time when you will re-paint the school sports shed. We are also going to use this time to address your general misbehaviour during physical education classes."
"Yes sir" I said.
"Now, you'll be under the direction of Mr Johnstone for the two and half hours. I'm giving him the discretion to use this paddle on your backside, as he sees fit" said the Head.
I gulped "Yes sir". I was nervous about being in Mr Johnstone's care. He was the school groundsman, but also was the coach for many of the junior football teams. It was widely known that he resented the snooty attitude of a number of the boys - me in particular ! I'd always taken perverse delight in treating him like a servant. I knew he was going to enjoy whacking my bum.
The Head then said "Ok then, go up to the dorm and change into your work-out kit, and report back to me here".
"Umm sir" I said nervously.
"What is it ?" he questioned irritably.
"I'll have to go into my regular dorm for that kit sir, I didn't move it into the junior one"
"WHAT ?" demanded the Head "I told you all to clear your dorms out"
"But, I thought that was just for day to day clothes, I didn't realise I'd need sports gear. I figured I could just go and get anything else I'd need" I said.
"Well you figured wrong , you silly boy. Those dorms are being repainted from Monday, so tonight you'll clear all your gear out. For now go and get changed, and report back to me here, quickly" he said.
I scurried off towards the senior dorm building. I raced up to my room and flew to the wardrobe, and found the lycra work-out shorts, and tight singlette, which was our work-out uniform.
I pealed off my day uniform and quickly pulled the tight fitting clothes on, as well as my sports shoes. 5 minutes later I was running back to where the Head was waiting impatiently. Seeing him there, with that paddle, I was very conscious of how the lycra shorts hugged my backside, and offered very little protection against the whacks I felt sure I'd be getting.
The Head said "At last, now Martin, before I take you down to see Mr Johnstone, I need to discipline you for failing to follow my instructions."
"Yes sir" I said glumly, all too aware of how sensitive and sore my bum still felt.
I was alarmed to see the Head back towards the class-room, and realised he was going to make an example of me again. That cane was going to get to know my backside again !
We walked into the room to see one of the younger boys, Cook, bent over, touching toes, and bawling his eyes out as Mr Griffiths laid the cane into his backside. The Head and I waited by the door, and watched this beating. I felt a stirring in my groin, and was all too aware that my hard-on would be completely visible through the lycra shorts.
Cook's backside was painfully defined by his tight shorts. You could see the stripes etched in the shorts. At each stroke he kept trying the get up, and so Mr Giffiths got another boy to hold him down.
At the eighth stroke Mr Giffiths let him up, and he tearfully made his way back to his seat, and winced as he sat.
The whole class then looked towards the Head and I. There was some excited chatter as the boys noted my dress, and worried expression. My hands had automatically gone back to cover my backside.
"Silence!" boomed the Head. He strode back behind the desk. He placed the paddle on the desk, and then pulled out the senior whippy cane. He motioned for me to stand where Cook had been a moment before, and bend over and touch my toes. This I did, although I winced as the already tight lycra fabric tightened across my buttocks- offering virtually no protection from the cane's sting, and pressing into the sensitive stripes still stinging from the canings from the day before.
"Now listen - all of you " boomed the Head, as he paced around behind me, whipping the cane dramatically, "Martin here is getting twelve strokes with this cane because he didn't follow instructions and clear out his dorm room of all his belongings. This was a stupid thing to do for two reasons, firstly because it is stupid of any boy to disobey me, but it is also stupid because all your regular dorms are being repainted during this holiday. Now if any of the rest of you have also left belongings in your regular rooms, you will have time tonight in order to clear everything out. Otherwise you too will feel my wrath. I will inspect all dorms tomorrow morning. Now Martin, your caning is about to begin - don't both counting, these will come quickly, as you have an appointment to keep"
"Yes sir" I said quietly steeling myself.
Whack !Whack! Whack! The first three cuts were stinging my backside before I realised it. "Owww sir" I cried, as the strokes hit. The pain was excruciating as the pain built up from the rapid fire strokes enflamed my already sensitive bum. The strokes continued and I was yelping and crying with them as tears fell down my face.
After eight, I couldn't help but begin to stand in order to rub my bum, but a restraining hand appeared on my back as Mr Giffiths assisted the Head by holding me down, therefore the rhythm of strokes wasn't lost as the ninth, tenth, eleventh and twelfth strokes hit. I was sobbing tears quietly.
The Head said "For standing you can have another 6"
Before I could reply or object, the strokes whacked into my bum again, and I cried out in pain. "Owww sir, please sir, it hurts" I pleaded.
"Of course it hurts you silly boy, this is punishment. It is not meant to be fun" He said, as he whacked the last four strokes. I yelped with each hit.
The Head said "Now Martin, I hope that gives you pause for thought about ignoring my instructions"
"Yes sir" I said emphatically.
"Good" he said "now stand and put your hand on your head".
I stood as instructed, and became all too aware of the growing bulge in the front of the lycra shorts. I also was very aware of the throbbing in my bum. I tried clenching to dissipate the pain.
The Head said I was to turn towards the door and walk outside. I looked straight ahead and tried to ignore the titters from the other boys as they spotted my hardon, and my tears.
I walked back onto the quadrangle, followed by the Head who was again following with the paddle.
"Keep your hands on your head, and walk down to the shed" the Head said. I was finding it really hard to not rub my buns to ease the pain. But, knowing the Head would whack me with the paddle at any provocation, I didn't.
I walked slowly and painfully. Every now and then the Head prodded me with the paddle and urged me to go faster. I had managed to stop crying but I was still in a lot of pain, and the combination with humiliation of this entire situation made me very emotionally vulnerable. I tried to get myself under control so I was ready to face "Mr Johnnie" - my nickname for the groudsman.
We crossed the path down towards the shed , and I saw the tall figure of Mr Johnstone, waiting. As we got closer I could see his grin of pure delight as he saw my discomfort
"Headmaster" he said in greeting - ignoring me.
The Head returned his nod saying "Sorry we're late, I've been forced by this boy's stupidity to thrash him again - I fear I am destined to beat him on a daily basis, if he keeps this up"
"I can imagine" said the groundsman with an evil grin. I just kept staring straight ahead.
The Head continued "Now Martin, you will sand-down and then re-paint the outside of this shed under Mr Johnstone's direction. You will do it every day at this time. He will paddle your backside whenever you step out of line, and he will report to me every misdemeanour, which I shall also punnish with a severe caning."
"Yes sir" I said, my worst fears realised. I noticed Johnstone practising swinging the paddle.
The Head then said "In addition, once you have repainted the shed, you'll clean out the inside and help Mr Johnstone with preparing the grounds. Now, because you are such a smart alec in P. E. and are disrespectful to Mr Johnstone, I have asked him to push you through some work-out exercises for ten minutes every hour. He will beat you if you don't push yourself hard enough. When he dismisses you at 3:30, you will run back up to the school and change into your uniform. You will report to the class-room by 3:45 . I will cane you three times for every minute you are late."
With that the Head walked off, leaving me alone with the Groundsman.
He just grinned and walked around me prodding and touching my arms, legs and chest, as well as pinching my bum. I still had my hands on my head, and was too scared to drop them. It was only when he made to grab my balls that I dropped my hands to angrily push him off.
I'd always been suspicious of this groundsman. He was tall and well muscled and aged in his mid twenties , and he seemed to take a slightly unhealthy interest in the bodies of the fit young men playing sport around him. This was why I was so disrespectful of him. I knew I would be paying the price for this attitude.
He looked at me with surprise when I shoved him away from my groin. "Well, well - did I say you could take your hands down ?"
"No" I said
"No WHAT !" he demanded
"No - SIR !" I spat out.
"Look Martin my boy, " he said, swinging the paddle, "I've always disliked your attitude, but I love your body," at this he patted my bum again. I clenched my hands by my side and tensed.
"I've taken the brunt of your teasing, and now your cute little buns can take the brunt of this paddle, unless you want to come to some other arrangement t ... " again his hand brushed my groin, before squeezing my sore backside.
I flinched. He laughed and said "Don't worry Martin, I'm just teasing - although you have broken the rules, so here's what we're going to do. You will touch toes, and I'll give you six whackes, then your going to start sanding off your graffiti.
"Aww come on" I pleaded "I just been caned, can't you cut me some slack"
"No way" he said, "now I don't think you want extra strokes do you ?"
"No sir" I said sullenly.
"Then lean-over" he said with a hard edge to his voice.
With a heavy sigh I leant over, arms pressed on my knees.
WHACK, "Yeowww" I called out, backside aflame again
WHACK "Oh Christ that hurts !" I yelled
"It's suppose to " said Johnstone.
WHACK "Owwww" I yelled again, tears again streaking my face.
"Ok stand" said Johnstone. I stood slowly, and my hands went to my bum, and rubbed.
He then led me over to the area I had defaced and showed me what to do. I then spent 45 minutes working away. He stayed behind me, always watching me - watching my butt was my guess. If I paused to wipe away sweat, he'd whack my butt with the paddle. He did that about twenty times.
"OK stop for a moment" he called out suddenly. "Time for you to get some exercise". He then led me across to the sports field and got me to stretch a couple of times, before saying "OK give me 250 press-ups now - if you take more than 5 minutes, you'll get a swat for every 5 seconds over"
"Yes sir" I said, before getting down into position.
"Go!" he said. Now I was pretty fit, but 250 press-ups in under 5 mins was really tough. I feared I'd be feeling the paddle sooner that I really wanted to , as I started the exercise, as Johnstone looked on with a malicious gleam in his eye.
I was panting heavily after 100, just as Johnstone announced I had passed two minutes, I hit 200 hundred after 4 minutes, and hit 250 just 20 secs late.
So I slowly stood and leaned over as I felt the familiar WHACK, WHACK, WHACK, WHACK. It hurt, but my bum was getting numb from so many hits. Still I rubbed it.
Johnstone worked me hard all afternoon. Whacking me frequently if he though I hadn't worked hard enough while I sanded the shed, and pausing to make me do punishing exercises very 45 mins or so. The second set of exercises was sit-ups. As I was getting tired I was 60 seconds over and so got twelve whacks. This caused tears again.
The groundsman clearly enjoyed every moment of it. I was grateful when he told me to sop at 3:20. He made me do 100 star-jumps. Each hurt as my butt moved, and he said he'd beat me for each one that wasn't high enough. I told me at the end that 10 weren't good enough, so I leant over again.
WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK - oowww that hurts WHACK WHACK WHACK- bloody hell that hurts !!
"Don't swear!" he said "six more "
"But sir !" I protested, aware of the time
"Alright 12 more " he said.
WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK - "Owwww" I whimpered.
He then proceeded to give me another twelve. By the end of that I was crying openly.
"Ahh that's good to see - a bit of humility !" he said. "You'd better scoot back to the main school".
I looked at my watch - it was 3:40, and I had only 5 minutes to avoid an immediate caning. I felt sure he'd set me up as I ran painfully off - hearing him yell after me : "It'd be a shame if you caned !" He then laughed before adding "I'll see you tomorrow".
I ran as fast as my sore bum could take me, crying all the way, but I felt sure the first thing that would happen when I reported, would be me stretching over the main table for a caning.
To be continued .....