I graduated in the early seventies with a good degree in geography and a teacher's certificate. All through the last term at university I looked forward to having a year off and travelling the world. I returned home for the summer with a plan to work until the middle of September so that I could save some money for my travels. The summer was long and hot and it was good to be home making plans. As well as my job I kept up working out each day at the local gym. During the last year I had worked hard at getting fit and I was now a tall lean and muscular twenty two year old. I was proud of my broad shoulders and chest, my 28 inch waist, rounded muscular arse and long firm legs, I was determined to keep in shape and spent at least an hour a day at the gym. There was of course a reward for all this effort and it was the sight of the other guys working out but best of all it was the locker room, a big, open room with lockers round the walls and a big gang shower at one end. I used to enjoy the locker room and a shower surrounded by fit guys was my favourite time of all.
Towards the end of August I started to make serious plans for my journey and it was one evening when I was sitting reading a guide book that the phone rang and it was for me. It was Mr Davis, the headmaster of the Grammar School that I had attended. He asked me how I was and what my plans were. I told him of my intention to set off travelling in the next month and that I would be away for a year. He listened and then said he would like to make a proposition to me. He explained that he had been unable to recruit an extra geography teacher that the school needed for the next two terms to cover one of the staff being away and he wondered if I would like to take the job. It was rather a shock and we agreed that I would think about it for a few days and then talk to him again.
I thought for a couple of days, the opportunity to earn some extra money was certainly a good one and I could set off travelling at Easter. The idea of returning to school as a teacher also excited me, although I had the teacher's certificate, I had never thought of teaching yet and had only done it to keep my options open. The idea of being back in the familiar corridors with some familiar faces, the routine and lots more besides made up my mind. I rang the headmaster and agreed to take the job. He was pleases and asked me to come in with all the staff on the day before the boys returned when he would sort out my appointment and I would learn more about the job.
Time flew past now and all of a sudden I was getting ready for school, I dressed with as much care as I had done on my first day as a pupil putting on my best charcoal grey suit and a new shirt and tie. I felt as nervous as I had on my first day as a pupil. I arrived a few minutes early and made my way to the headmaster's office. I found there that I was not the only 'new boy' and in all there were four of us although I was the only one without any experience. He welcomed us all and gave an introduction to the school and told us who were the key people. Most of this was the same information as when I had left there four years before, it was strange listening to him speaking and I realised that every day while I was away at university, the school had continued to run and now it would continue. We were given lists of names of the other teachers, many were still familiar to me and I was glad to see that some were still there, one or two had obviously left, my eye landed on the name of Steve Jacob, the senior sports master who had joined the staff in the last couple of years I was at school and then as I got to the bottom of the list I jumped to read the name of Paul Wood, the head of history who was also in charge of discipline. Paul Wood was strict and severe, he made regular use of the cane and had never been known to let a boy off a caning. The other thing was that he always gave bare bottom canings, unlike anyone else and always used the longer, heavier senior cane. I had experienced a number of canings from Paul Wood as a pupil at school either at the front of the classroom or in his office that was just off the main entrance to the school. Here, he dealt with wrong doers of all sorts who he either caught on his regular rounds of the school or boys who were sent to him by other teachers. I recalled the site on passing his door which was always open if a caning was being given, all that could be seen was the boys bottom with trousers and underpants around the knees and shirt pushed up clear of the bottom with Mr Wood standing to one side administering the cane. To all intents and purposes it was totally anonymous as no one knew, except perhaps those waiting for their turn to bend over the desk, who was being caned. It always had a sobering effect on those passing by. I remembered the feeling and then realised that I too was now going to be using the cane. I trembled slightly at the thought of it.
As I looked up the headmaster started to talk about punishment. He was telling us what I already knew, that he did not approve of punishments that wasted time or caused boys to resent working. In his view the only effective punishment and deterrent was the use of either the strap or the cane. He went on to tell us that the choice of which to use was up to us and that we could administer up to twelve strokes across the bottom, bare if we wished, on no account must either be used across the hands for fear of causing injury. This was familiar to me and I had certainly had experience of the cane.
We began our tour of the school. Little had changed in the time that I had been away, some places had been painted. We went in and out of classrooms meeting the other teachers as we went. Those I knew welcomed me and I began to relax. We visited the gym where Steve Jacob was sorting out equipment and he welcomed me warmly and we chatted for a few minutes while he asked me to take on some of the rugby coaching. I had always been a keen player and the idea of doing some coaching appealed to me. Steve still looked in perfect form, he must have been almost thirty by now. He was tall and well built with blond hair which was now cropped quite short compared to what I remembered. A while later we met Paul Wood, my heart jumped when I saw him, he was just as I remembered him, I was now over six feet tall but he was taller than me, he we well built and strong and did not look anything like the forty that he must be by now. The last time I had seen him was when I set myself up for one last caning from him before leaving school, never expecting to see him again, still I doubted that he remembered that. We chatted for a few minutes and he told us about the teaching of history and also about maintaining discipline. Then he looked at me, 'Well Phil,' he said, 'you probably need some practice with the cane so come along to my room at lunch time tomorrow, there are always a few smart guys on the first day of term who need a sharp reminder that they are back at school and it will be a chance for you to practice.' I didn't know what to say, I smiled and thanked him. I wasn't sure how I would feel about caning any boy or how I would get round to it but now I was going to have to and under the eye of the expert who would be watching the force and placement of every stroke.
The rest of the day flew by and it was time to go home. That evening I thought about what was to come. Every few minutes my thoughts kept returning to using the cane, what would it be like? I had never really admitted it to anyone but I used to quite enjoy the canings I got at school, they always stung to begin with but that eventually gave way to a blazing sensation that I liked and there was always a great deal of credibility to be gained for the person who had the best marks in the showers and changing room.
I made my way to school next morning and soon found myself in assembly listening to all the familiar things that were being said about the coming year. I was not to be a form master and so was able to leave quickly at the end. It also meant that I was free during the morning as all classes were with their form master going over details of the coming year. I used the time to plan classes and read up specific things I needed to know as the clock crept towards 12.10pm and lunch time. ]
The bell rang and I made my way slowly to Paul Wood's office. I was nervous, almost as though I was going to get the can - which was the only reason I had ever been there at lunch time before. Perhaps there would not be any boys there, it was possible that no one had done anything to warrant a visit to Mr Wood on the first day of term.
I turned the corner and took a deep breath, the door to Paul's office was open and there were four forth formers outside all looking apprehensive. I knocked on the door and went in. 'Ah, Phil,' he said. 'Good to see you, well we have some miscreants so you will be able to get some practice.' I smiled, uncertain of what to say. 'What has happened,' I asked. 'Oh, they broke two windows earlier this morning kicking a ball in a classroom. That calls for eight strokes each I think, do you agree?' I nodded my agreement. 'Good,' he replied, 'I'll do the first one if you would like to do the other three.' I nodded again. Paul went across to the cupboard and pulled out two canes and placed them on the top of his desk and pulled out the Punishment Book from the drawer into which he wrote the names of the four boys outside the door. 'Position is important to use the cane effectively,' he said, looking up from writing in the book. 'The legs should be straight otherwise you will find that most strokes land across the crown which is the area which hurts the lease, you really need to bring the cane in across the underbottom and crease for the best effect. You also need to be sure that the boy can not tense his buttocks, if he can, some of the power of the stroke will be lost and you will also make contact with a smaller area, therefore make sure that he opens his legs so that his knees are at least 18 inches apart. You also need to stand in a position where when you bring it down, the tip of the cane will make contact with the bottom, if you don't do that, you'll lose some of the power of the stroke. As a rule, stand one foot further away than the length of the cane.'
I took all this in, I could certainly remember being told to straighten my legs and open them wider and had assumed that it was all to do with this but had never known.
'Right,' said Paul, let's have the first one in. He went to the door and called the first boy in. A boy about 5' 8" tall entered the room looking nervous. 'Take off your blazer then drop your trousers and underpants to your knees and bend over the desk,' ordered Paul, at the same time removing his own jacket and placing it over the back of the chair, I removed my own and placed it there too. Paul picked up one of the canes from the desk top and moved round to behind the boy, taking up position, 'I'm going to give you eight,' he announced, 'stay down until I tell you to rise,' I moved to stand beside him, aware of the tingling feeling that was running through my whole body. I stood back to give Phil room and he took up position forcing the boy to adjust his position. 'Watch carefully how I place the strokes,' he said to me and with that drew back the cane to shoulder height and brought it down swiftly across the centre of the quivering bottom, a white mark appeared in a perfect straight line across the bottom and as it turned red there was a howl from the boy, this was matched by the cane swishing through the air for a second time and the second stroke was imprinted below the first. Phil raised the cane again and the third stroke cut deep into the underbottom causing a larger weal to rise. By this time the boy was sobbing and his bottom was twitching but he stayed in position, knowing that moving would get him an extra stroke. The remaining strokes followed, each in perfect parallel until all eight were delivered and Phil put the cane down. The sobbing boy was told to get up and he rose slowly, pulling up his underpants and trousers with great care. 'Stand facing the wall with your hands on your head,' rapped Phil, 'moving them will result in another eight strokes.' The boy moved carefully away and Phil picked up the cane and handed it to me. I took it and ran my hand from the curved handle along the length. I had seen and felt canes just like this one across my own bottom so often in the past and now I was going to give it, it was about three feet long and half an inch thick and bent quite easily as I flexed it. I moved it through the air a couple of times and heard the swish that was so familiar. 'One tip you might find useful,' said Phil, 'is to keep an eye on where you want the stroke to land, are you ready?' 'Yes,' I said.
Phil called the next boy in and ordered him into position. 'Mr Taylor is going to give you eight strokes and if you move you will get extra,'
I drew the cane across the twitching bottom, my heart was pounding and my hands were clammy, I moved back slightly so that the tip of the cane reached just to the right place and then raised the cane to shoulder height. 'This is the first of eight strokes, stay down until I tell you to get up,' I heard myself say and then with my eye right across the centre of the twitching bottom, I brought the cane down swiftly, the was a loud swish followed immediately by a crack, the boy gasped and a red weal started to rise in a perfectly straight line across the centre of his bottom. I drew the cane back again and this time delivered the second stroke immediately below the first, a second weal rose and the boy noticeably tried to clench his stinging buttocks. 'Relax your buttocks,' I ordered sharply. The boy slowly did as he was told and I quickly brought the cane down for the third time. This time there was a noticeable gasp and I could tell that the boy was beginning to cry, I quickly delivered the fourth stroke. I stood back briefly to admire my efforts, four weals all in perfect parallel and then concentrated again on the task in hand. I was aware that I was starting to enjoy giving the cane and could feel my _c_o_c_k_ starting to stiffen in my trousers. I delivered number five straight into the crease of the underbottom and this time there was a scream of pain from the recipient and so I quickly followed with the following two strokes, laying them across the crown in diagonals so that they reignited the pain of the previous strokes, finally giving number eight across the crease of the underbottom again.
I stood back, the once smooth flesh was now a blazing red mass of pain, how I remembered the sensation, throbbing to every part of your body and every movement blazing some more, my _c_o_c_k_ was hard now and I was sure that I would come without any further stimulation. 'Right, get up,' I ordered briskly. Slowly the boy rose and started to pull up his trousers and underpants. I could almost feel the sensation and for a few minutes felt quite envious.
'Well done,' murmured Paul, 'you seem to have the technique and also have got some satisfaction,' he added glancing down at my bulging trousers. I blushed. 'It's OK,' he said, 'it happens to me too sometimes, I'll tell you more later, in the meantime there are two more canings to give, are you happy to carry on?' I nodded as he called in the next boy and ordered him into position.
To be continued.....