This story is an account of events that took place in November 2000 when I made a stopover to catch up with a friend in Singapore....
It was about August 2000 that I found I had to make a business trip to Australia, it was planned for November and gradually it began to take shape. There was a need to travel extensively in Australia and the schedule was pretty demanding with little time to relax anywhere. I knew I would be tired by the end of it so I planned to take a few days holiday as there was no real hurry for me to return to London and after a bit of thought I e-mailed a friend who had returned to live in Singapore, thinking it would be good to see him and also to see Singapore as I had never been there before. My friend, Tang, lived in London for quite a few years and as he shares my interest in the cane we spent many sessions together and we both gave and took some pretty severe canings.
My e-mail got a rapid and enthusiastic response and I was invited to stay with Tang for the few days I planned. We began to recall in our mail the various sessions that we had enjoyed and I looked forward to the trip with greater enthusiasm. In one of my messages I raised the question of the Singapore prison cane, probably the most severe cane in use anywhere and whether it was possible to get hold of a cane that was the same. While I had no wish to end up on the wrong side of the law in Singapore it did seem like the right place to take a severe caning and I was pretty sure that at the end of a two week business trip I would be ready for some excitement. My e-mail met with a non-committal response, saying that the prison cane was severe and it was very difficult though not impossible to get hold of replicas, lighter canes which are still in use for boys at school and still a common form of discipline at home are much easier to get hold of. The idea of guys enjoying the cane would certainly be frowned on by the authorities and as such it was probably better not to ask too many questions about the prison cane. In one of the later messages, while I was in Australia, Tang asked me if I would be willing to join in a group session with some other guys, I told him that this was fine by me and I looked forward to it more.
The time in Australia passed by and before too long I was ready to leave for my trip to Singapore. The flight from Brisbane landed on time on a Friday afternoon and with what I learned was normal efficiency for Singapore I passed through immigration, collected my luggage and was meeting Tang within fifteen minutes of leaving the plane. We drove to his apartment which took about twenty five minutes, it was hot and humid and I was glad that both the car and the apartment had very effective air conditioning. Once there he showed me my room and gave me the chance to shower and cool off after the journey. I took a long cool shower and eventually, feeling much brighter wrapped a towel round my waist and went to join Tang in the sitting room. I noticed that a selection of canes was arranged, each hanging by the crook from the back of a chair, clearly action was on the agenda. I could hear running water, telling me that Tang was taking a shower and after a few minutes he joined me, wrapped in a towel too. We chatted for a couple of hours, getting through a few beers as we had a lot of catching up to do before the subject got round to the cane. Tang got up and picked up a fairly heavy one, flexing it and swishing it through the air with a very satisfying whoosh. Almost automatically I stood, dropped the towel from my waist and bent over the back of a chair. Without saying a word, Tang took up position, drew the cane back and brought it down with force across my bottom, I held still while he repeated the action eleven more times, the fire and sting in my bottom rising with each stroke. I stood and moving to a mirror could see a very satisfying collection of stripes. Tang didn't say a word but dropped his own towel and bent over the back of a chair. I moved round and selected a heavy cane and took up position. Although I was tired and had had a very long day I found strength in my right arm and brought the cane down swiftly and firmly across the centre of his bottom. I watched with satisfaction as a very vivid stripe rose and then continued to add eleven more. Tang stood to admire my effort and smiled. We are both about the same size and build and stood side by side it was possible to admire two well striped bottoms. The old magic was alive and well.
Tang opened a couple more beers and we both settled down again, this time both lying on stomachs on the floor as it was definitely the most comfortable position after the caning. We started to talk about the caning experiences we had had over the years since he was in London and eventually he raised the idea of us joining a group of guys for something more serious. I asked him what he had in mind and he told me that as we had both just taken twelve hard strokes without wincing we should both try something a bit more severe and this is what he had in mind for the group session he had heard about and that we could join.
Since I had raised the subject of the prison cane, Tang had got interested too and he had been discretely asking questions. He had learned about a group of guys who met from time to time who shared our interest in the cane. There were eight of them in total and two were prison warders who gave the cane in Changi Prison. They found their jobs fascinating and regarded these sessions as opportunities for additional live practice, giving the cane with the same strength and determination as they did to those who were sentenced to receive it. They also took the opportunity to be on the receiving end of it both from each other and from the other guys. To add to the reality they had built a trestle that was an exact copy of the one at the prison and they also had access to the canes that were used in the prison and stored them in the same conditions. This was as authentic as it was going to get without being sentenced by a court. Tang told me that there were a couple of conditions attached to joining the session, one was that we undertook never to reveal the identity of the prison warders or the location where we met and the other was that we took the strokes that we were ordered to take. This seemed fair enough to me, the authorities in Singapore would probably take a very dim view of prison warders joining in an activity like this and if the experience was to be authentic then I would not be able to decide on the number of strokes I was given. The session was planned for Sunday afternoon and we decided to join it. We continued to talk well into the night before eventually I had to go to bed, had I not been so tired I think I would have lain awake wondering what I was letting myself in for, but I was so tired that I fell into a deep sleep.
We spent Saturday doing the things tourists do, having a Singapore Sling at Raffles and wandering among the shops of Orchard Road. Tang arranged our attendance at the session planned for the following day, making a couple of calls on his mobile. I enjoyed the day though the heat was oppressive. It was only when we returned to Tang's apartment to cook dinner that we began to talk about what was to come the following day. We both admitted to be pretty fearful. Although we both gave and took what we knew to be pretty severe canings we were aware that we were moving into a new league that was beyond the experience of either of us. We decided to avoid any use of the cane that evening and although the caning the previous evening had been pretty hard, our butts were recovering well and neither of us had much in the way of marks left. That night I lay awake for a while wondering what was to come and the more I thought about it, the more exciting I found it though the sense of fear remained very real.
Sunday was a good clear day, Tang suggested going for a sauna and steam that morning, something he usually did on a Sunday evening but for this Sunday he thought that neither of us might want to appear at the sauna with well caned bottoms so how about now. Going for a sauna and steam in Singapore seemed a bit crazy to me as the heat and humidity outside made the whole place like a sauna but I went along. I had virtually no trace of the marks from the caning I had been given on Friday and Tang was in a similar state. The whole experience of the sauna was very relaxing and restful and for me included a ninety minute full body massage. It was about midday when we left and returned to Tang's apartment. We were due to meet the other guys at about two o'clock so we chatted for a while before getting ready, neither of us wanted any lunch. On Tang's advice I changed into a T-shirt and he loaned me a pair of very loose shorts with a draw-string waist to wear without underpants which would be more comfortable after what was to come.
We set off to walk to the place we were to meet the other guys, it was about ten minutes away. I was nervous with butterflies in my stomach and my heart pounding, what was I letting myself in for, Tang was also pretty quiet, he told me that he was having the same thoughts. We arrived at the apartment of one of the prison warders. He let us in, both he and the other prison warder were dressed in their uniforms. Both were tall guys, well over six feet, one was late twenties, the other early thirties. They both looked formidable and strong with broad shoulders and arms. Four of the other guys were there and there was a lot of very nervous chatter as we were all introduced. The last two guys arrived. Most of the guys were from Singapore but one of the other guys was Dutch. There continued to be a lot of chatter.
Finally the older of the prison warders called for silence. He said he wanted to lay out the ground rules. We all listened and it was so silent that all we could hear was each other breathing, all rather heavily.
He began by saying again that absolute confidentiality was required for the sake of all involved both with regard to the identities of those involved and also where we were. He said that the caning would not actually happen in the apartment and anyone who wanted to drop out now could and they would never know where we were all moving on to. Everyone opted to stay. He told us what would happen. We would all receive a caning as authentic as anything given in a prison and there would be nothing optional about it. We would all be restrained on a trestle that was an exact copy of one in Changi Prison and the canes used would be the same as the ones used in the prison and the method of giving would be exactly the same. The only differences would be that we would all get to witness all the canings which would include the opportunity to cane each of the warders at the end of the session and he thought we were less likely to bleed than prisoners as we all had regular experience of taking. He did a round of asking each of us about our experience of the cane, listening carefully. He told us that we would have an extreme experience and he would aim to push each of us beyond any limits we had experienced before. My stomach was still churning as one by one we were asked to bare our bottoms so that he could look and see how much muscle we carried. He emphasised again that the caning would be severe and then told us how many strokes we would receive, I was to get eight, some guys were getting six, most eight and some ten. Tang, who has more muscle on his butt than me was to be given ten. The warders were to take twelve each. He added a warning, both warders had been caners in the prisons for several years, during that time they had caned many bottoms. As he put it, black, brown, white, yellow, fat, thin, muscular, Asian, European, Australian, American and African bottoms and they all had one thing in common, the cane caused excruciating pain. We would be no exception to the rule.
There was a final opportunity to drop out and no one did though the temptation to do that was tremendous. The warders warned us that from now on they would compel us to complete the session and there was no way out. We all agreed to that. We moved out of the apartment and into the lift which took us to a couple of levels below ground. We walked, silently now, along a corridor before stopping at a locked door which we passed through and the warder locked it again. We were in a room with a couple of benches and some clothes hooks on the walls. There was another door at the far side. The room was painted white and lit by a harsh fluorescent light. We moved through the room and into the next one. It was much bigger, again painted white and lit with harsh light. At the far side was the trestle, it was in the shape of an H, there was an adjustable bar which was padded over which to bend, padding to protect the back, leather restraints for the wrists and ankles. We were allowed to look at the frame. At the same time the younger of the prison officers had taken off his shirt, his upper torso was pure and well defined muscle as were his shoulders and arms, and was getting a number of canes from where they were soaking. He started flexing one and cutting through the air with it, it made a much deeper sound than anything I was used to. He told us that the soaking kept them flexible and stopped them splitting but the water also added to the weight. He told us that the same cane would generally be used throughout a session unless it split though it would normally be wiped between bottoms with antiseptic if a prisoner bled. They were the regulation 120cm long and 1.3cm thick, longer and thicker than any cane I was used to, they looked formidable and were.
The older warder ordered us out of the room back to where the benches were. We were ordered to strip and hang up our clothes, we started, it didn't take long as most guys were wearing T-shirts and loose shorts, one guy slipped his underpants in the pocket of his shorts, wearing them afterwards would be uncomfortable. The older warder also removed his shirt revealing a similarly muscled torso, shoulders and arms to the younger guy. His manner now changed and he became harsh as he ordered us to line up, I was third with Tang behind me and the Dutch guy in front of me. We were ordered to stand in silence. My heart was pounding, my stomach churning, my hands were perspiring and my vision blurred. The warder opened the door to the bigger room and we were ordered forward. The line moved and I moved with it, I was aware of Tang behind me but I could not think of anything to say. We were ordered to line up along the wall facing the trestle.
The older warder took the first guy by the arm and without saying anything led him to the trestle, on reaching it he adjusted the bar to a height that the guy would bend at and pushed the middle of his back to bend him forward, he secured the padding over his back and then moved round to secure his wrists to the frame, finally moving back to secure his ankles. The scene was now set the first guy was in position, there was nothing that he could do to protect himself from what was to come, his butt was fully exposed, jutting out from the frame awaiting what was to come.
The older warder simply announced 'eight strokes', the younger guy stepped forward and took up position, judging carefully and lining up the cane so that the tip was resting on the right buttock of the guy on the trestle.
'One' counted the older warder, the younger guy drew back the cane, it flashed through the air in a golden yellow haze with a huge whoosh, there was a crack, the cane appeared to bite into the surface of the guy's bottom, he jerked in the restraints and a deep red line appeared on his butt.
'Two' was counted and again the cane was drawn back, again it flashed through the air, there was a whoosh and crack, a second deep bite and the guy struggled as a second line appeared on his butt.
'Three', the scene repeated itself.
'Four' the cane lashed down and the guy cried out in agony.
I could hardly believe what I was seeing, I was fascinated and terrified in equal measure. The sight of this guy being caned was amazing, the determination, strength and skill of the warder was clear and I had all this to come.
In my thoughts I missed the next stroke landing but couldn't miss the howl of the recipient. The younger warder had a look of determination on his face, there was the beginnings of some perspiration on his face and torso, almost making him glow.
'Six' I watched as the cane was drawn back and then brought down with determination and force, the shriek of the guy made us all jump.
'Seven', the cane landed again, there was a howl but with less effort than the last time.
'Eight', the cane landed again, lashing over all the previous marks and the guy on the trestle howled again.
The younger warder put the cane down and the two warders started to release the guy from the restraints. Slowly he stood, his butt wasn't bleeding though it was a purple mass where one stroke of the heavy cane had blended with another. Slowly he moved with a warder supporting each arm until he was able to stand steadily on his own.
My heart pounded more, I had all this to come, there was no way out any more than there would have been if I had been in one of the prisons.
The older warder picked up the cane and the younger one came and led the Dutch guy who was in front of me to the trestle. He secured him to it, again in a position where his butt was well exposed and the older guy took up position, again measuring up the tip of the cane against his right buttock.
'Eight strokes' called the younger warder.
'One', the older guy drew back the cane, his technique was slightly different, he almost pivoted on his toes and turned through a greater angle before the cane cracked down on the Dutchman's butt. He jerked against the restraints as a deep red line jumped to the surface of his butt.
'Two', the cane lashed down again and the Dutchman struggled.
'Three', there was a blur, swoosh and crack and the Dutchman howled.
I was transfixed, this was amazing and terrifying, it was my turn next, how would I cope. I couldn't believe that I had actually sought out this experience, why had I done that, this was not like any caning I had ever had before this was serious and extreme pain, how could I have fantasised about it, how could I have thought I would in some way enjoy this.
'Seven', the cane cracked down and the Dutchman howled again.
'Eight', I watched the yellow blur. The next stroke of the cane would be landing on my butt.
The warders moved to release the Dutchman who took his time standing up. Slowly he took a couple of steps, I wanted this to go on for ages as it was delaying my turn. The Dutchman was moving without assistance, he too had a butt that was a purple mass. The younger warder had now picked up the cane and was swishing it through the air. The older guy was standing beside me. I wanted to get out of there. How could I, there was no way. I had agreed to this session, I had to go through with it. I wanted to run, but where to. I didn't mind seeming to be a coward, this was going to be severe. The rest of the world seemed very remote, the time upstairs in the apartment was distant, the room next door where we had all stripped ten minutes before seemed to belong to another lifetime.
I felt pressure on my arm, my feet moved forward, one in front of the other though I didn't feel in control of them. I was standing at the trestle. The warder raised the bar as I was taller than the Dutchman, he pushed me forward towards it and I could feel it against my lower abdomen, I felt his hand on the middle of my back pushing me forward. I bent to the required ninety degrees, I felt the pad placed across my back and it was secured with a heavy leather strap, already I could not get away. He moved round, securing my left and then my right wrist tightly to the trestle. I could still move my feet but that soon changed, I felt my left then my right ankle secured, I could not move. I was aware of my chest rising and falling as I breathed, I could not move my legs more than about two inches and my arms a bit more than that. I could sense the younger warder behind me and I knew that he had the cane.
'Eight strokes' called the older guy.
I felt the tip of the cane on my right buttock just as I had seen happen to the other guys, strangely I was aware that it felt cool and smooth as the warder adjusted his position to what he considered the optimum.
'One', I felt the cane lifted away, time seemed to stand still, I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes, there was a whoosh, a crack and I felt my body jerk with the force of the stroke as the cane bit deep into my bottom, immediately followed by a burning sting that was way beyond anything I had felt before. I wanted to get away, anything, my heart was pounding, I couldn't move, it felt like all my blood was pounding to my head. What could be worse.
'Two', the cane cracked again, and I struggled for all I was worth, not that I could move much, all my body hurt. It felt like the air had been knocked out of my lungs and I struggled to breathe. How was I going to take six more like this, why had I got myself into this situation.
'Three', for all I was restrained I felt as though I lifted about a foot in the air. I hadn't of course, the restraints held me in place. I thought I was ready to die, there was nothing else in my world but extreme pain.
'Four', I tore at the restraints again and this time let out a mighty howl, my butt was blazing, my whole body aching and in spasm. I couldn't feel where that particular stroke had landed my butt was just a mass of pain. I was still struggling to breathe.
'Five', I howled and struggled again, there was no way out of this but I was going to try. Slowly I stopped the struggle, there were three more strokes to come and I had to take them. I shut my eyes and gritted my teeth, determined to take the rest with dignity.
'Six', the heavy cane seared across my already burning butt adding another line of fire to what was already an inferno, forget the dignity, I howled louder than ever. My head was swimming, I couldn't focus my vision, there was only pain in this new world I had found.
'Seven', my energy levels were failing, I pulled at the restraints but the cane still landed, another searing, burning stripe. At least the next stroke was the last one.
'Eight', I almost felt relief and then realised as I heard the cane drawn back that the last stroke was still to come. There was a swoosh and crack as it landed again. Even my hair felt like it was stinging, my body ached from pulling at the restraints and the pain from my butt was beyond excruciating.
There was a warder at either side of me releasing the restraints. I stayed in the same position, unwilling to move, every part of me hurt so much. Slowly I eased upright with every movement adding to the agony, then with one of them at either side, I stepped away from the frame. I stood still and steadied myself. The pain was tremendous but I felt a tiny bit better to be standing upright. My natural reaction at this point is usually to feel my butt and as I eased my hands round I was just aware that it was bigger and swollen, I could feel the heat. The warders moved away as I moved towards the two other guys who had already been caned stepping carefully so as not to move quickly. I was aware that one of the warders was picking up the cane and the other was leading Tang to the trestle. I could hardly focus but he was being bent over and restrained, just as I had been.
Tang was secured, I was finding it impossible to concentrate. My butt was a blazing inferno way out of control. I heard the younger warder call 'ten strokes' and looked across at Tang.
'One', the cane cut the air harshly and straight into Tang's butt. He yelped and a red line appeared.
'Two', the cane found its target and Tang fought at his restraints.
'Three', the cane sliced the air, cut into his butt and he gasped, I knew the feeling as the air was knocked out of him.
'Four', the cane made contact and this time he howled.
'Five', half way for you mate I thought as the cane imprinted another deep red line, eight strokes didn't seem so many after all.
'Six', Tang howled louder still as the cane sliced his butt.
'Seven', He was almost silent and I was aware that he was sobbing, I was pretty sure that would not last, the sensation of this cane was too severe.
'Eight', I was right, Tang howled, his butt was now a red mass of angry stripes, like the three of us who had been caned, he still had two more strokes to come though.
'Nine', Tang shrieked as the cane landed, biting deep and leaving a very vicious red stripe, surely this one would bleed.
'Ten', this time Tang shrieked so loud I was sure someone somewhere must hear him, the stroke seemed more powerful than the others although it probably wasn't.
The warder put the cane down and both warders went to release Tang, I watched him ease upright, I knew how bad it felt, my own butt was still blazing and my whole body aching. He took some steps and steadied himself making his way carefully towards me.
There was a small commotion at the other side of the room. Clearly the next guy was having second thoughts. The older warder was pointing out to him that he had agreed to go through with the session and he knew what would happen if he didn't wish to. The warder told him of the earlier agreement and he still protested. The younger guy by now had put down the cane and standing one either side they moved him to the trestle. He protested though none of us moved to help him, we had all agreed to this and there should not be a way out. The younger guy arm locked him while the older one began to secure him. He started begging and pleading to be allowed to go, it fell on deaf ears and he was fully secured to the trestle.
'Eight strokes' called the older warder above the guy's pleading. As far as I was concerned it was adding to the authenticity of the occasion when maybe some guys do plead to be let off.
'One', the cane cut the air, bit into the waiting butt and the guy howled.
'Two', the cane landed and he sobbed. Tang and I looked at each other and exchanged the first words we had spoken to each other since we arrived at the apartment. 'You OK?' I asked, he nodded, 'You?' he asked, 'we took it' I said almost with a smile. He smiled back.
'Seven', the cane landed and a new pitch of screech from the guy on the trestle was heard.
'Eight', he shrieked as though it was his last breath as the cane sliced his butt.
The warders moved to release him, steadying him and leading him to join us. He seemed OK, well in relative terms at least.
The inferno in my own butt had perhaps cooled about a degree since my last stroke and I felt some of the tension ease in my muscles. Putting my hands near my butt was still out of the question, in so far as I could see anything, it was a red mass with some swelling and some clear stripes in the swelling.
There were still three guys waiting to be caned. One by one they were brought forward for their turn, secured to the trestle and the warders took turns to cane or to count. I enjoyed watching and as usual found the whole thing pretty erotic. They all found the experience severe, but that is what was expected. I learned from talking to them that some of them had been for a similar caning quite a few times before and while it was agony at the time the resulting high was tremendous. I was beginning to feel brighter all the time and my mood was definitely lifting now that the level of pain was stable.
The last guy had been caned, the younger of the warders started stripping off his boots, trousers and underpants while the older one came to talk to us. It was now our turn, something real prisoners never got but probably longed for. The four of us that the younger guy had caned would get to give him two strokes each and he would give him the last four. He then went and secured the younger guy to the trestle. My heart started pounding. I was going to cane this guy using a prison cane, only two strokes but he was getting twelve in total, half as many again as I had taken.
'Twelve strokes' called the warder, the first guy stepped forward and judged his position with the cane, then raising it, brought it down across the waiting bottom, there was a crack and a vivid weal sprang up, there was a gasp as the pain hit home.
'Two', the cane landed again and the younger guy gasped louder.
It was my turn, I stepped forward and took the cane. It was longer and heavier than I was used to but I was determined to get it right. I judged my position, resting the tip on the right buttock as had happened to me and stepped forward slightly, I didn't want to waste any of these two strokes.
'Three', I drew the cane back, my movement compromised by the pain in my own butt, I gritted my teeth and brought it down with all the force I could on the exposed butt, it bit deep. The guy howled, I smiled, satisfied.
'Four', I raised the cane again and gritted my teeth once more, there was a yellow blur through the air a, crack and another howl as the cane bit deep a second time. I admired the two deep red stripes that I had been responsible for on the exposed, muscular Asian butt which was no doubt stinging.
My turn was over and the two other guys took there turns.
After the eighth stroke the warder took over and one of the other guys counted, he was using the same technique as he had used on the other guys he had caned and after the tenth stroke the younger guy was howling as loudly as any of us had and after the twelfth his butt looked every bit as sore. He was released from the trestle and like the rest of us took his time to stand and ease his way from it.
The older warder was now removing boots, trousers and underpants and one of the guys secured him to the trestle. The scene repeated itself with the younger guy administering the last four strokes. At the end, there was another well caned butt to add to the others.
The room was hot and sticky with the smell of well beaten butt very clear in the air. We were all sore but stood around having some conversation. It was finally suggested that we move to dress and go back upstairs. The younger warder put the canes back in to soak, only one had been used as it had not split and there had been no bleeding and for all it had been used to give almost a hundred strokes to ten different bottoms it was still in perfect condition.
We made our way back into the room where we had left our clothes. Putting my T-shirt on was easy, easing up even loose shorts over my blazing, swollen butt was not. I did feel a bit sorry for the two warders who had to get back into their uniform trousers at least to get upstairs and it was clearly pretty uncomfortable neither even trying to put underpants on.
Back upstairs beers were opened and we stood around chatting for a while, no one wanted to sit! The two warders also got out of their uniforms into loose shorts like the rest of us. The other guys were really good company. As the new guys, Tang and I were congratulated on our performance by the others and the younger warder who had caned me said he had admired my taking the cane. I was definitely feeling high.
Tang and I left after about an hour with an invitation to join the group again. We made our way slowly back to his place, walking definitely needed some care and it took us far longer to get back than it did to get there. On return it was time for a long cool shower and for the first time in my life I was grateful that the apartment had a squat toilet which I could use without having to rest my butt on it. We spent the evening lying on the sitting room floor – on our stomachs - drinking beer and chatting. We were both sore beyond any previous experience and even the weight of a towel on my butt was too much. We took the next day pretty carefully as sitting was still too painful so we walked and rested up against bars to drink and lay on the floor at home. I ended up buying another pair of thin cotton shorts as the idea of wearing trousers that would rub my butt was out. By Tuesday there was some reduction in the swelling and it was possible to sit which was just as well as I had the fourteen hour flight to London to get through the following day which I just about managed still in my cotton shorts which I wore for three more days. The swelling went down in about ten days and the marks are going slowly. For all the pain, it was the best caning I've had and I think before too long I'll be going back to Singapore....