The cane was in regular use at my old school. The junior boys were caned most frequently, usually by the prefects but even the prefects were caned occasionally by the headmaster. Most boys had to report to the prefect's own room and were caned in private but sometimes canings were more public for the entertainment of the prefects.
One evening my friend and I were caught talking in the dormitory after lights out by a prefect who crept around wearing slippers. He immediately ordered us out of bed and to follow him to be "dealt with." We knew we would be caned but we expected that he would take us to his room and give us three strokes each. Instead he took us into the prefects common room. As we entered, all the prefects looked up and grinned. "Gentlemen," said the prefect who had caught us, "I have two errant boys here who require punishment, I would be grateful if you would act as witnesses." He ordered us to stand with our backs to the wall while he placed a chair in the middle of the floor and took a cane out of a cupboard. "Who's to be first?" As I hesitated, my friend volunteered. He was told to take off his pyjama trousers and lay them on the seat of the chair and then bend over it. There were faint marks across his bottom from his last caning and a murmur of disappointment went round the room. The prefects always preferred to start a punishment session with a flawless white bottom. Keeping my friend waiting, the prefect tapped and stroked his bottom with the thin whippy cane for some time. Then came the infamous words: "I'm going to give you six." I saw my friend tighten his grip on the chair, surprised by the severity of the punished. The prefect obviously wanted to demonstrate his caning skills to his fellows.
The prefect tapped the centre of my friend's bottom, brought the cane back slowly and deliberately and then with a loud swish lashed the cane down hard and fast, finishing the stroke with a final flick of the wrist causing the cane to crack across the waiting bottom. The cane landed on the exact spot he had been tapping and at first there appeared to be no mark. Then a double ridged weal appeared and at the same time my friend gave an anguished yelp. The sights and sounds of all this had a strange effect on me and I felt the stirrings of an erection. Although I had been caned regularly like most boys and had seen the results of the cane on other boys, I had never actually witnessed a caning.
The prefect allowed my friend a few moments to absorb the pain and settle down for the next stroke. Then he tapped the top of his bottom and applied the second stroke. Again it landed exactly where he had tapped. I was impressed with his accuracy which must have been the result of a great deal of practice. He brought the third stroke in on the underbottom which made my friend scream in agony. The watching prefects murmured their approval. There were now three red stripes across his bottom: at the top, across the middle and on the underbottom. The fourth and fifth strokes were placed in the two spaces between the first three strokes.
Although I was used to being caned myself, I could now see for the first time the effects of the cane on the victim. After each stroke my friend's body stiffened, his head jerked and he howled in agony as another red stripe was cut into his bottom. At the same time he hung on to the chair tightly in order to overcome all his instincts to stand up and rub his blazing bottom. He then bravely braced himself and waited submissively to accept the next cruel stroke. It was not long before I could see tears running down his face as he was clearly in considerable pain. At last the sixth and final stroke was placed right at the top of his thighs. This would make sitting down even more painful for the next day or two.
The prefects, who had watched the caning in hushed reverence, now looked at each other and exchanged a few remarks as they smiled with satisfaction. They had clearly all enjoyed the performance and some of them seemed to have bulging trousers. Now it was my turn to entertain them. My friend was ordered to stand up and face the wall with his hands on his head, his expertly welted bottom on display.
I was told to lay my pyjama trousers on the chair seat and bend over. I had not been caned recently enough to have any marks and so I had an immaculate white bottom for them to admire. Also I had been told that I had a nicely shaped bottom for caning. As I bent over and displayed myself, I could sense a quiver of excitement run round the room. In this exposed position in front of an audience my erection came back quite strongly. From the mutterings I could hear, one or two of the prefects must have noticed.
I felt the cane gently tapping my bottom and I was told I was going to receive six strokes. Once the caning started I was too concerned with the pain to think of anything else. My erection disappeared and I was no longer aware of the audience. I was only conscious of throbbing burning pain and waiting for each stroke which felt like a white hot poker being burnt into my bottom. I was struggling to stay bent over and I was soon in tears like my friend. I was always surprised again each time I was caned just how painful it really was. The prefects certainly knew how to make us younger boys suffer.
There was a long pause between each stroke and it seemed to go on for ages. At last he finished caning me and I was told to stand facing the wall next to my friend with my hands on my head although I was longing to rub my bottom. The prefects then inspected and compared our stripes and congratulated the prefect who had caned us on the accuracy and severity of the caning. We were then given a brief lecture and told to put on our pyjama trousers and go back to bed.
Next morning in the showers, we compared our bottoms and found we had an exact matching set of weals. We had been caned by a very skilful exponent of the art.