The background to this narrative is explained at the beginning of 'Two Culprits - 1'. What follows is a continuation.
'Roger was crying as he pulled up his pants, and no wonder after the severity of the punishment. Though quite shocked by what I had witnessed (I was still very 'green'), I can't deny that I was also excited by it and remember hoping that the fact wouldn't be obvious to Nicholas when I opened the door to call him in. No doubt that was the least of his worries. He must have heard every sound through the door and seen Roger's red, tearful face emerge knowing full well that his own ordeal was going to be worse. But he was a tough little character, not easily intimidated. He stared the Headmaster boldly in the face and I had an odd feeling that he relished this duel with authority and was determined to survive with honour intact.
The Head knew exactly what he was dealing with; he wasn't going to be defied by a _c_o_c_k_y 14-year-old. He caught Nicholas off guard by telling him curtly to go over to a chair on the far side of the room and undress. This was unexpected. Pulling off school jumper and tie, he looked up, puzzled: 'Everything?' When it was clear that it was indeed 'everything', the bravado returned. Nick was not a self-conscious boy; he seemed to regard stripping not as a humiliation but as a rare distinction, a mark of his status as a rebel. He showed apparent unconcern as the headmaster tested through the air the cane to be used on him - thinner, I noticed, than the one selected for Roger. He stepped forward in his underpants; then paused and dropped them, kicked them aside and walked stark naked across the study as if it were an everyday occurrence.
Though small, he was well-muscled with smooth golden skin and only a small amount of pubic hair. Beneath that Nicholas was not lacking for his age and as he brushed past me I noticed to my surprise that he was more than half erect: perhaps as a result of what he had overheard outside the door - or possibly from a streak of sheer exhibitionism. The buttocks were small but well formed, and beneath the right one with each step a crease briefly appeared - a tiny fold in the skin which caused a shiver of pleasure to run through me. Without waiting to be told he took up his position almost insouciantly over the desktop and arranged himself like an old hand; fingers grasping the far side, which he could just reach, legs a little apart, bottom _c_o_c_k_ed up to invite the strokes; adjusting minutely until he was comfortable. After a minute or so he sighed loudly, as if impatient at being kept waiting. That cool nerve was delicious - but now, I thought, we shall see.
This time the end of the cane tapped twice only before whistling down on the upper quarter of the cheeks, which in that fraction of a second tightened up, lifted and rode a little to the right to absorb the impact - needless to say I was watching intently. Despite the angry white weal springing up instantly across the skin, it brought only a stifled gasp as if to say 'Wow, that was hard!'. The headmaster quickly fell into a rhythm, slow but relentless, placing the strokes an inch apart down the small buttocks and drumming the right hip in an agonising tattoo. The thin springy cane was perfect for the task. At first Nick gave little short hard cries only, gripping the far edge and wriggling to absorb the pain before pushing up his bottom boldly to take the next. But across the sensitive lower parts the lashes increased in force; this was a level of punishment not experienced before and he began to protest in earnest, trying to twist his hips away rather than lift them to flout the strokes. When the eighth was laid precisely where the tiny crease had appeared, his body leapt in shock and Nicholas yelled - high and loud. Authority had reasserted itself.
The Head sensed the moment and seized it. He gave a harsh, unexpected command: 'Move your feet apart.' Taken aback, and still writhing from the low stroke, the boy half stood to obey instinctively. 'Further...spread those legs...wide as they'll go. Then get over again.' Fascinated, I watched the arrogant Nicholas submit and assume the humiliating posture required of him. It concealed nothing. To my surprise, the signs of arousal noted earlier had not disappeared; on the contrary, the member had extended fully, though the edge of the desk forced it downwards. Above, the cheeks spread like striped plums to expose a pale, unmarked inner area around the eye itself. The end of the cane tapped the lower left buttock once only and struck like a snake. Nicholas screamed: the bamboo's tip had found the bullseye. Desperately, with comical effort, my young rebel tried to close his buttocks and repel the invader, but the muscles strained and twitched to no avail. In that posture all he could do was tighten the sphincter against the next lash, which to judge from a second hard shrill scream did little to reduce the agony. Well, I thought, the little devil's not so _c_o_c_k_sure now. Yet he never moved out of position; in fact with two strokes remaining his pride seemed to re-assert itself. Once more the small bottom was raised insolently to the caner, with its eye open now as if defying the snake and inviting it to strike. When it did so with cruel venom the squeals rang out high, but I could have sworn that the organ strained an inch lower in defiance down the front of the desk.
The Head saw it too, and was angered. He ran the end of the bamboo lightly, several times, over the length of the offending part; then laid it across the upper left thigh and tapped, two...three...four times. Nick yelled 'NO-O-O-O!!' and thrust his haunches out shamelessly to draw the stroke upward. I shut my eyes as the cane flashed down, but the headmaster landed it safe, squarely across the centre of both buttocks. With a moan of pain and relief Nicholas realised that the punishment was complete and that some element of his pride remained intact.
He was left to writhe on the desk uttering brief little cries and gasps, struggling for self-control, while the cane was carefully returned to its place. Then he was ordered to stand with both hands placed on his head making no attempt to touch or rub himself. Thus Nicky could only alleviate the terrible burning pain by grinding his hips and lower quarters like a belly dancer and working his buttock muscles in spasm; these contortions looked the more comical since, released from constraint, his boyhood stood rigid. When, after thunderous warnings about future behaviour, he was allowed to walk red-faced back to the sofa, I wondered how his brief underpants were going to contain what had been so immodestly displayed. Yet restored to school uniform, he looked demure and innocent; and it was a much quieter, less wilful Nicholas I had to deal with in the following weeks.
This was by no means the only occasion I witnessed a caning of this severity, but it was the most remarkable because the boy clearly relished the challenge and became _s_e_x_ually excited by the idea and the reality of it. Oddly enough our relations improved thereafter, but about twice a term for the next two years Nick would provoke me into punishing him, which naturally I was not unwilling to do. It developed into quite an unusual relationship!'
One which greatly intrigued me, and on a later occasion I heard more about that relationship. Any thoughts about the narrative so far would be welcome, and if it's of interest a final part will be posted in due course.