There was a soft knock on the headmaster's door, and the four nine year olds nervously entered the office, the last lad closing it carefully behind them. They had been sent from form their fourth grade classroom that Monday morning, although all four had expected the summons – had in fact sweated about it all weekend!
Dressed neatly in their school shorts, ties, long socks, shiny shoes, white shirts and of course school blazers, the four were a picture of misery as they stood in a line in front of sir's desk, hands clasped behind their backs, heads down. The headmaster let them stand like that for ten long minutes, while he continued with some work before him, then he took off his reading glasses leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms and stared grimly at the four little miscreants before him. Fighting in a rugby match. Unacceptable. And only in the "under 10" age group. Some drastic measures would have to be taken to teach these little lads a lesson. He had already decided that their young bottoms would be very sore by the time they left his office!
The boys themselves were all strong little chaps, with good ball skills, and a love for the game. They must have been seriously provoked to end up fighting. But each of them knew that no excuse would be accepted by the headmaster – their behavior was unacceptable.
The headmaster wasted no time in chatting to the boys – he didn't believe in letting boys argue against their fate when it came to blatant breaches of school rules like this.
"Any of you want to deny that you were involved in a fight on Saturday on the rugby field?" he enquired.
All four boys shook their heads and mumbled in the negative, but the headmaster was not satisfied. He decided to address each boy separately.
"Andrew?"
"Yes sir, I was fighting," admitted the lad. He was a tall boy for his age, his sandy blond hair cropped neatly in the regulation style.
"Travis?" the headmaster asked the next lad in the line.
"I was fighting, sir," the boy answered, hanging his head in shame. He was very different looking from Andrew, but just as attractive. His dark brown hair was slightly too long, and his legs and body were somewhat sturdier than his team mate. He gave off an air of stocky strength, rare for one so young, but his talent as a forward in rugby would one day take him far in the game. It was his punches in the fight that had caused some of the most damage too.
"Matthew?" the headmaster turned his attention to the next child. Matthew stood out from a crowd due to his very blond head of hair, his big blue eyes and his sparkling smile – not present today. The headmaster felt a twinge of sympathy for this little boy. He was not very bright, and very easily led. His father was dead, and his mother made little effort to support her son. The headmaster decided to take it upon himself to give this almost pretty lad some guidance. Matthew's ball skills and abilities as a runner made him a great player – at least he had something he was good at!
"I was also fighting sir," responded Matthew quietly, trying not to cry in front of his friends. He hadn't meant to fight, but couldn't resist the temptation of all the action. He knew that the other boys got hidings at home from their dads, so at least their bottoms, unlike his, were used to getting whipped. He was very scared of what was going to happen in this office shortly. But at least he wouldn't have to face an angry belt wielding father when he took his discipline slip home with him tonight, just his mother's moaning voice.
"Kevin – and you're the team captain – I'm appalled,"
Kevin was a big boy for his nine years, tall and stocky. His short brown hair tended to curl when allowed to grow, and his strong, suntanned legs shook slightly. He was very ashamed of himself, and knew he deserved severe punishment. His dad had promised him a good belting at bed time, but, like Matthew and unlike Andrew and Travis, Kevin had never had a hiding at school before.
"I'm sorry sir," was all he could get out, a lone tear already tracking down his smooth cheek.
"Hang your blazers up behind the door," sir ordered, and the four little boys did as they were told, carefully hanging up their school blazers on the hooks there for that purpose.
When they had returned to stand before the desk, the headmaster continued,
"I have spoken often of the need to control yourselves on the sports' field," he thundered, "and you four have chosen to ignore my warnings and instructions!" he stared at them for a long time, all four now sniffling and trying not to cry openly.
"Take off your shorts and your underpants!"
The boys quickly complied, none wishing to be the last to follow orders, and so make an angry headmaster even angrier. In less than a minute, four bare bottomed little lads were standing before their headmaster, hands no longer behind them, but rather clutched instinctively protectively before them. The headmaster smiled to himself – the dejected little crew looked almost comical standing in front of him, smart shirts, ties, long socks and shoes set off by bare young legs and naked bottoms.
The man got up at last, and crossed to a large cupboard. Opening it, he ceremoniously extracted a thin, whippy cane and flexed theatrically for the benefit of the four half naked little boys standing watching him. He placed the cane back on his desk, then walked across the room to where he had a suite of comfortable leather chairs – used generally for when he had meeting with senior teachers and parents. Still watched by the boys, the headmaster turned the chairs around so that they faced the back wall of his study. Now they were set up with a two seat settee flanked on either side by comfortable armchairs.
The headmaster, satisfied with the arrangements of the furniture strode back to the boys, and, taking Andrew by the arm, he marched him over to the settee and bent the boy over the back of it, on the right hand side. He repeated the operation with Travis, bending him over the left hand back of the leather settee. Matthew was next, having to bend over the armchair on the right, and finally Kevin had to bend over the back of the armchair to the left of the settee. The headmaster had each boy widen his feet, then he pushed their school shirts up to bunch under their collars.
Stepping back, the headmaster admired the scene that he had created. Four little bottoms faced him, up and ready to be beaten. Perfect. Each little behind was different in its own way, but all would be very red and sore when he was done. Starting on the left, Kevin's bottom, the biggest of the four (although still of course pretty small – the boy was only nine), was creamy and chubby, the boy's darkly tanned legs sturdy and trembling slightly. On the settee, Travis, also a strong sturdy lad with a well rounded shapely backside. Faint bruising was visible across the boy's buttocks – his father must have given him a hiding for some or other reason lately.
Travis' dark complexion was the perfect counter for Andrew. The palest of the four boys, his bottom was very white indeed, although the backs of his legs were also pretty pale. His behind was about the same size as the boy on his left, but its paleness made it look very different. His bottom was visibly shaking in fearful anticipation of the hiding to come.
Then there was Matthew over the second armchair. Although the smallest and shortest of the four, his legs were strongly defined from all his running, and his skin, because of all his exposure to the sun, was golden – as is common with blond boys with very easily sun tanned skin. His golden back and legs made his bottom appear startlingly white. Surprisingly, for one so thin, Matthew's bottom was actually rather chubby, but perfectly rounded.
Picking up the thin cane from his desk, the headmaster decided to begin the thrashing with the team captain, Kevin. He traced the cane lightly across the lad's exposed buttocks, then whipped it across the exposed target area, using a strong wrist action and lots of momentum. The reaction from the boy was a soft squeal and a slight jerk of the body as the stick cut painfully across his rear end, low, where it really hurts. Even at the age of nine, Kevin knew how to keep still for a hiding, and suspected, rightfully, that many more scorching strokes would be applied to the lower half of his bare bum before this was over. As the boy had expected, after about ten seconds another lash of pain flashed across his bottom, and his controlled reaction stayed the same.
Travis was surprised when he felt the cane being dragged across his backside after only hearing two strokes falling on Kevin's bottom. The cane made a very satisfactory snap as it crossed his shapely bottom, and he sobbed with the pain of it. Of all the boys, he got the most hidings. He was a naturally mischievous child, and had felt the headmaster's cane on his backside already three times this year! But this was his first bare caning. His dad often made him cut a switch in the garden, then drop his pants and touch his toes for a good bare bottom thrashing. He had no doubt that his dad would be giving him a good hiding with just such a switch to add to the pain of this morning's caning. The second stroke from the headmaster caught Travis by surprise, landing almost on top of the first one, and the little lad nearly leapt up. But he was a tough youngster, and managed to control himself.
Andrew too battled with the new experience of the cane on his bare bottom. His dad, like Kevin's, was a great believer in bare bottom belting, and he knew that he would feel the leather tonight too. He had also been caned in this office before, but the agony of the cane on his bare bottom was worse than any hiding he had ever experienced. His knuckles gripped the chair seat in front of him so tightly they went white as the second agonizing stroke bit into his exposed backside.
The headmaster was well aware that this was to be Matthew's first real hiding, and he placed a hand on the narrow back of the trembling lad as he lined the cane up,
"Keep still now, Matthew," he reminded the lad.
But Matthew didn't need to be told. He had heard the snap of the cane across each of his team mates' bottoms, and their cries. They were all tough guys, so for them to cry out it must have been really sore. But he was determined to show them that he could also take a good hiding. However, the little boy's resolve was nearly forgotten as the cane bit deep into his upraised bare bottom. His mom had slapped his bum every now and again, when she could catch him, but this was different. The next stroke was even worse, and Matthew felt as if every nerve in his body had gone down to his bottom to help him appreciate how sore this hiding was! But he kept still, trying desperately to show how brave he was.
The headmaster stepped back to admire his handiwork. It was his practice not to talk to boys when he was whipping them – the only exception had been to remind Matthew to keep still. He let each lad keep their own council when getting a hiding – the pain of the cane was enough to get the message across without a lecture. Now the man was still faced with four trembling little naked bottoms, the only difference being the two deep red welts that each sported, just below half way down their rounded little cheeks.
He waited for the sobbing of the nine year olds to die down a little, before crossing back to Kevin. This time, he laid the two strokes on somewhat harder than before, just below the first stripes, and Kevin jerked and cried out with each well placed lash across his poor behind. Travis also cried pitifully as his next two stripes were laid across his rounded bottom, and he twisted his hip slightly, earning a gruff command to keep still. His backside blazing, the little lad couldn't stop thinking about the hiding that he was going to get at home too. As if the pain of the caning wasn't enough!
Andrew, his grip on the settee well established and his head down, took his two well. But as each stroke landed across his young backside, he raised up on his toes defensively, as if trying to pull his poor bottom away from the pain of the slashing cane. The tension and effort that he was putting into taking his hiding was evident in the bunched up muscles in his back and sturdy thighs.
To the headmaster's surprise, Matthew was the most steady. Although he felt like his bottom was being cut in half when the cane lashed across it, he desperately wanted to prove his bravery in front of his friends and managed to keep almost completely still through his next two strokes. Of course, he joined the chorus of howls from the other three nine year old – their bottoms were getting just too sore to keep quiet.
Once again, the headmaster rested briefly before continuing. The four little bottoms were now each decorated with four deep stripes. These lads would certainly remember the lesson he was teaching this afternoon.
He stepped to Kevin again, and this time really caned the child's bare rear end hard, slashing the cane low down across the chubby buttocks. Kevin yelled in pain, and his body writhed. He was finding his first caning from the headmaster excruciating! Travis tried to be brave, but even a seasoned recipient of hidings like himself battled. The second lash caught him right in the crease between his legs and his bottom, and he leapt up briefly. This was not acceptable, and earned him another hard lash. The little boy sobbed loudly as the man moved away from him to the bending and tense figure of Andrew.
Knowing the fate of the boy on the settee next to him, and not wishing to earn a single extra stroke than those he already had coming, Andrew gripped the seat harder than ever, and managed to take his next two excruciating lashes with minimal movement. The six stripes covered nearly his entire lower bottom, and the red welts stood up brightly against his pale skin.
By the time the headmaster got to Matthew, the little boy was ready. He had his eyes tightly shut, his head down, toes curled and, like Andrew, a death grip on the seat of the chair over which he was bending. The two lashes applied mercilessly to his bottom were the worst agony the nine year old cherub had ever experienced, but he managed to hold still, his only true sign of distress was the high pitched wail that he let loose as the cane bit deep down across his bare buttocks.
The headmaster examined the four bruised little bottoms bent over his furniture before him. He was satisfied with the results of his handiwork.
"Travis, Andrew and Matthew, you may get up and move the chairs back to their normal positions – before you rub your bottoms," he began, "Kevin, you stay where you are – as team captain you have some more of the cane to come."
Thankfully, the three boys got up and quickly moved the furniture back into position (except the chair over which Kevin was still bending, of course). Then they grabbed their burning little bottoms and gave them a good rub, while the headmaster wrote out each boy a discipline notice, informing his parents that he had been caned, how the caning was done and what it was for. When the lads had put their pants back on, being very careful pulling the fabric over their bruised little bottoms, he handed each his slip. Travis and Andrew took them reluctantly, knowing that they were the "tickets" to their further hidings at home. Matthew wasn't too concerned. He though his punishment was over, until,
"Matthew, report back to me after school, young man. I will warm up your bottom some more then."
Matthew's tears started anew, but he didn't even try to argue or beg for mercy.
The three boys left the office to head back for their classrooms, and the headmaster turned his attention back to the still bending Kevin.
"As a team captain, Kevin," he began again, "even an "under 10" captain, I expect you to set a better example. And therefore you will receive another three strokes to remind you of your responsibilities."
The nine year old said nothing. He just dropped his head further between his arms and waited for the pain across his tail to intensify. And intensify it did – sir lashed the cane harder than ever before across his bare and bruised bottom, and the child yelped. Again he was caned, and Kevin cried out. Surely he couldn't take any more without dying of sore bottom? But he could and did, the last lash burning down almost on his legs.
After being allowed to get up, rub his bottom and put his pants on, Kevin received his discipline slip.
"Will your father deal with you later, young man?" the headmaster asked the crying little boy.
"Yes sir," Kevin sobbed, "I'll get another hiding with the belt, sir,"
"Good," was the unsympathetic reply, before the boy was dismissed back to class.
Matthew reported to the office as ordered later that day, after his classes were finished. The frightened little boy knew that his bottom was in for another good blistering – he had never had such a bad day. But in a way he was relieved that the headmaster was going to punish him again. He would have felt bad knowing that his team mates all got hidings at home and he didn't.
As expected, the headmaster explained to the nine year old why he was there again,
"I know that you don't have a dad, Matthew," he said kindly, "and I'm afraid that the lack of discipline in your life is turning you into a rather difficult little boy. I intend to sort out the situation by giving you hidings that should be given to you by a father,"
He look at the pretty little blond before him,
"Starting today, and dealing with this little issue, I will tan your backside just like your friends get their bottoms whipped by their dads."
Matthew understood this logic – he wasn't very bright but he had a well developed sense of justice for a nine year old, and what the headmaster said, although making the boy scared, made a lot of sense. But the next words, although expected, were not welcome,
"Undress – everything off."
Tears once again scalding his blue eyes, Matthew obeyed, quickly stripping off his school uniform. He didn't even hesitate when he got to his underpants – they came off with the rest of the lad's clothing and were neatly placed on the same table that had supported all the shorts and underpants during the morning hidings.
When the boy was completely naked, he went and stood awkwardly in front of the headmaster's desk, hands in front of himself.
The headmaster got up and walked around to the boy, taking in the lad's excellent build for one so young. Typical for a runner, Matthew was pretty thin, but he had good muscle definition, and the sun bronzed tone of his skin made him look very healthy and fit indeed.
Leaving the boy where he stood, the man crossed to the cupboard from which he had earlier extracted a cane. This time he took out a short two tailed leather strap. He hadn't used it in years, but he decided that it would be the appropriate tool for punishing the naked little lad who was now waiting for a just, hard thrashing. Matthew did not share the headmaster's opinion. Although he did not feel at all uncomfortable naked in the office – he trusted the headmaster instinctively and knew that the man had only his best interests at heart, he thought that the strap that was now heading in his direction would be very sore indeed across his already sore bottom.
The headmaster sat down in a chair right next to where the boy was standing, then, grasping Matthew's arm gently, he guided the naked little tyke over his knees. Matthew had expected to be made to bend over the chair again, and this position, so personal and close to sir, made tears pour from his eyes. He had heard that this was how sir punished his own sons, and the little boy felt deeply honored to be placed in such a position. Feeling the headmaster's strong arm wrap around his thin torso, Matthew grabbed the man's leg with one arm, and the leg of the chair with the other. Then he closed his eyes tightly, feeling the headmaster lift his leg slightly to raise up his bare little bottom to the mercy of the strap.
The headmaster smiled as he felt Matthew grip onto his leg. The lad dropped his head and didn't resist when he had his bottom raised up for punishment. He knew that he had this boy's total attention and respect even before he laid on the first stroke. Matthew's absolute submission to his coming punishment surprised him. He turned his attention to the little bottom across his lap. The six stripes from the cane did indeed look painful, and he intended to light up the fire once again.
The strap cracked across the boy's bottom loudly. Matthew tried so hard to lie still and keep quiet – but that was impossible. He lasted four good lashes, more than the headmaster had expected, before giving into howls of pain and squirming wildly as the two tailed leather was thoroughly applied to his helplessly exposed backside.
Lash after lash fell, and Matthew rode steadying increasing waves of pain as he got what he could say, on top of his earlier caning, was the hiding in all his life that he would never forget.
But it was over eventually, after a dozen good lashes. And although Matthew felt as if all the skin had been burnt off his poor bum, he wasn't too badly damaged. His bottom was deep red, and the bruises would last for several weeks. But he had learn a lesson, and at least he would be able to join in the comparison of sore bottoms the next day at school with his friends!