This is a modification (to suit my own peccadilloes) of a story I found elsewhere. The basic scenario is one which I'm sure a lot of us would love to stumble across.
Ever since leaving school I had been fascinated by the subject of corporal punishment. Often at school I had been one of the boys on their way to the headmaster and housemasters studies, nether regions dressed only in our white PE shorts to receive our cuts, enthusiastically meted out under the strict regime of corporal punishment that the school embraced. I had delivered (and received) informal punishments in the changing rooms with a gym shoe and a leather tawse we had managed to filch but I had never actually held a real punishment cane. In my quest to rectify this I started to search through educational journals both current and old until, with great excitement I found the advert I had been looking for. 'Canes supplied for use at school and home. Efficacy guaranteed. All items tested prior to despatch. Est 1906.' The address was listed.
It was only a few weeks later that I was walking up and down the streets of London hoping to find out that the shop still existed and still supplied the advertised products. I had parked miles away and realised that there was not long before the shop closed. At almost running pace I arrived in the block where the shop should be. There it was, a very old fashioned looking shop full of umbrellas, walking sticks, and some equestrian supplies. With only minutes to spare I walked in hoping to spot a basket of canes.
My heart pace quickened when behind to entrance door I spotted two tall baskets with a big notice pinned to them 'CANES'. I moved closer and started to notice that these although at first glance looked like punishment canes, were in fact far too thick. I picked one up and tried to imagine being caned with it. I selected another and another but this was not what I hoping to find. There were long straight ones with round ends and others that looked like walking sticks. I jumped when a voice from behind asked if I needed any assistance. I nodded and said that I was just looking. But the man continued "we do have smaller ones down stairs, is it for educational purposes?". I nodded and said hoarsely "Yes, educational supplies" at which he pointed to a small opening at the back of the store. Casually I moved over and when I though no one was looking I started to descend the narrow stairs.
This had to be it. Old black and white pictures adorned the walls of the stairs that lead down to a small basement room. Stern looking School Masters cane in hand with short thank you notes with quotes like - satisfactory results, top marks and the best quality product I ever used. Near the bottom start there was one picture of a boy in school shorts bending over the desk while a master rolled up his sleeve. Was this a posed picture or the real thing. I was still hot from running and aware that in ten minutes the shop was shutting. The room was small and was covered in an amazing selection of canes. All of them were placed horizontally on nails like tools neatly on display in the garage. There seemed to be four basic types available these being junior, intermediate, senior and not approved for scholastic use. Most of those were about 4 foot long. From nails, hung straps of differing lengths from the holes in the shaped, slightly padded, handles. The other ends were split, mainly into twos and threes with the odd non split strap. All were frayed 'at the business end'. I ran my fingers over one where the stitching had split and the light brown leather of the grip was darker than the others. "Very popular that one Sir. Just the right length" I was startled by the voice which had arrived un-noticed. "Of course all those are demonstration models. You'd be getting a new one. Would you like to try it Sir?" I became flustered, mumbled something about later and started to examine one of the canes. The low prices surprised me as I realised I could afford a selection with the relatively small amount of cash in my pocket. Again I was startled by the voice which had arrived un-noticed. If I wanted a selection then they did supply a general school selection box with 6 canes, two of each size. They named the product "six of the best". As time was now gone, without even seeing the product I removed the appropriate amount of cash from my wallet and handed it over. A stout cardboard box was then selected from behind the small counter. He opened the box, which to my surprise was empty. Moving over to the wall with the canes he started to select six canes. Each one he inspected, bent double then swished through the air. Only when he was happy that a good rod had been found, was it placed in the box. It was only when he finished doing this he informed me that I was also to receive a free genuine Scottish leather tawse like the one "you liked" he said. This he removed from a drawer in the small counter.
The time had now passed and it was obvious to me that the shop was now closed upstairs and I would soon be on my way having bought a box of canes which would probably never be used, but what a thrill it had been. I was quite stunned when, as I was about to be given my change and hand written receipt, I was asked if I had ever caned. I hesitated then rather clumsily replied that I had not, even though this was a lie. This seemed to be a problem. He continued to ask if I had ever been shown how to use a cane properly. Again I had to answer no. After looking at his watch another drawer was opened and he removed a what looked like a form. He continued to tell me that they had a policy that anyone administering punishment using their products should do so only when they knew how to correctly, and were aware what it is like at the receiving end. They could arrange a lesson which would last about an hour. The charge was small and luckily he could fit me in at 19:15 that night if I was interested. At this he returned my money and put the box of canes back behind the desk. All I had to do was fill in and sign the request and consent form and return in an hour and a half, however before handing over the form he ticked most of the boxes of the boxes.
As soon as I had left the shop I opened to form to see what he had written. I was to be shown how to prepare a pupil and how to apply the cane and strap. Following that he had ticked the boxes requesting strokes with the strap, with the junior cane, the intermediate cane and the senior cane. Was I really going to go through with it. Finally I had to sign the consent section which informed me that for safety reasons restraints would be used during this exercise and that unless the operator believed there were medical reasons why the demonstration should be terminated, then the request would be administered in full. Before signing it should be accepted that full strokes only, would be given. I had to declare that I was medically fit. Suitable clothing would be made available. Height, weight, age and waist measurements were required.
I paced the streets then with only five minutes to go I signed the form and headed back to the shop.
I thought at first that it was shut then I noticed a notice on the door. Training session - please use door at side of building. I followed the arrow to a door. As I opened it there was a loud ding signalling my entrance. Another notice told me to go through another door into a small waiting area. There was no one there so I sat down. Shortly a man, who I had not seen before, came in. He asked for the form without actually looking at me. He checked through it then disappeared returning a few moments later with the box of canes I had so nearly bought. He took my money and started to wrap the box with brown paper. He seemed to change his mind and, taking the box, he showed me to another door. Inside this room there was a small changing area. There were a number of pegs and on each one was a pair of thin white gym shorts. On another set of pegs were hanging jock straps. He removed one of these and told me I would need this first. I could leave my clothes over the chair, they would be quite safe. Before he left he removed a black gown from the back of the door and told me I could put that on whist I waited. He also to selected a pair of shorts, and told me to keep them for later.
I was soon stripped off and ready. I tried the shorts and they were a good fit if a little on the flimsy side. I put the gown on, tied the waist band and waited. There was a third door to this room, which now opened. Yet another person came in. This was a large fairly muscular man dressed in a white vest and tracksuit bottoms. On his vest were the words, "control at the flick of a switch" and a picture of a cane in motion. He beckoned me into the room. There in the middle was a substantial vaulting horse with a school boy mannequin, dressed in school shorts, in place. I was then given a quick lesson in preparation of the cane, pupil and how to run a complete punishment session. This included how and what to bend over and then how to raise the cane and give it a quick flick upwards before bringing it down with a crack. He used some chalk on the cane so I could see where my strokes had landed. Each one was supposed to land on the last. He showed me where the most sensitive spot was where the buttocks joined the top of the legs. All this time I was aware that I was only wearing a tight jock strap and itchy gown
This part of the demonstration was soon over and he informed me that I was now to take the gown off. I was glad to have the jock strap on as beneath it I was showing signs of the pleasure this lesson had given me. He undid the straps and asked me to help him move the mannequin, which was dumped rather unceremonially in the corner of the room. I got onto the horse and waited whilst the straps round my legs and arms were done up. My naked buttocks were now on display. The man disappeared out the room and returned with my form. He reminded me what I had consented to. I would receive the strap first, which in his words, would hurt less than I expected then I would have to go and change into the shorts as they did not allow the cane to be administered on bare flesh.
Carefully he pulled the straps of my jockstrap well out of the target area and then examined the area carefully with his hand, just as he had told me to, and slapping . He tapped my bottom a couple of times with the leather strap before bringing down with an almighty crack. I winced with the pain, which was soon gone. The second stroke arrived quickly and I pulled tightly against the straps. The third arrived on the same place and I realised how the pain increased when the strokes landed on top of each other. The forth stroke was almost unbearable but at least that bit was over. He then told me to go and change out the jockstrap and into the shorts.
Back in the changing room I looked at my reddened buttocks in a mirror obviously provided for this purpose. I removed the jockstrap and put it in a basket provided then put on the shorts. They were so thin the red area where the strap had landed could be seen and at the front it was obvious that I was still enjoying the experience, so I put the jockstrap back on. It was a number of minutes later that I was called back into the room. On a nearby table three canes awaited. I was reminded again on the finer details of how to administer the cane. The two strokes of the junior cane were applied without ceremony and stung but to a lesser amount that I had expected. I wondered if he had put his best into it. It was more or less the same for the next size up although I did take a few seconds to recover from the sting. Then he picked up the senior cane. He informed me that his was the real thing, he wouldn't use anything else. This was to hurt a lot more that anything so far. He told me how I would feel the pain increasing after each stroke and he would time the strokes so the next stroke landed just as the pain had reached maximum from the last stroke. With his hand he felt for the crease at the top of my legs. He moved away a couple of paces then it started.
Swish - crack. He was really going for it now and I would have hit the roof if it wasn't for the fact that I was firmly strapped into position. The pain seemed to increase and increase. I tensed every muscle in my body and after a few seconds I started to feel the pain subside but he spotted the signs and the second stroke was on it's way. The fiery burn seemed to spread out from by buttocks to the whole of my body. I wanted it to stop but I knew he would not. I tried not to let on when the pain was subsiding but again his expertise told him exactly when to deliver the third blow.
That was only three and there was still three to go. I was completely focused on the pain. There was no letting up of the pain - no time to recover and the punishment seemed to be going on for ever. At last I had reached the last stroke. I held on. He paused for a little longer. I could tell he wanted to make the last stroke the best as he moved back. With an almighty grunt he gave it his best and the cane landed exactly where he had intended. I froze to the form desperately waiting for the intense pain to pass. Slowly it began to ease. He then said "I'm afraid you didn't obey my instuctions. I can see that you still have your jockstrap on and for that I shall punish you" I saw him go to the table and open the box containing the canes I had bought. Out of it he took the tawse. He lovingly stroked the three tails of leather and flexed them between his hands. "I think it highly fitting that you should be punished for you disobedience by being the first to be beaten with these instruments. He rubbed my blazing backside through the thin cotton shorts with both his hands, having lain the tawse across my back. Although this renewed the pain in my buttocks I was glad of the massage as I had been aching to rub my tender bottom myself. His broad hands seemed to be expert in their task and after a few minutes of squeezing and gentle pinching of my backside and the weals which ridged it, the blazing pain had given way to a warm glow of pleasure and I quite looked forward to my imminent punishment. When the leather thongs of the tawse cut into my backside a few moments later it was quite a different matter. On top of my caning this was intense agony. The first few strokes were like white hot brands being pressed into my buttocks. I clutched at the sides of the leather top of the vaulting horse and gave myself up to the punishment. Stroke after stroke of the strap lashed my bottom. Incredibly, the pain gave way to waves of pleasure and again I was glad of the restraining influence of the jockstrap. Eventually my punishment ceased. Both he and I were sweating. A further massaging of my beaten backside took place. Expert hands kneading, sliding up the back of my shorts and easing the pain into my bare buttocks between the jockstrap tapes. Then several hard slaps across the shorts and it was all over
A couple of minutes later after he had cleaned the canes and the tawse and put them away, my bonds were loosened. He helped me up and directed me to the changing room. His parting words were "Leave the shorts in the basket, your canes are on the side, let yourself out. That was it. A few minutes later I had changed and on the desk was my box of canes and a small certificate indicating that I had completed a basic introductory course in the art of corporal punishment. There were several leaflets telling me how to look after the canes and some notes from the course explaining again some of the techniques used. I left the building painfully aware of the neat stripes that I was to sport for the next few weeks. One month later to the day I was back. I had to confess to my lie.