"Why did you not turn up for detention on Friday, Cole?"
Fourteen year old Paul Cole looked up from the Maths excercise he was working on to see "Bill" Hayman, the Maths teacher standing in front of him. "Bill" Hayman was an awesome man. As well as being a Maths teacher, he was the Deputy Headmaster, and in that role, took the detention classes. He was about six feet tall, always wore the same faded maroon striped suite with a waistcoat. What little grey hair he had was plastered thinly on the top of his head.
"Please Sir," replied Paul. "I had to see Mr Harbour about some Physics work after school on Friday, and by the time I got away, it was too late for the detention."
Paul felt this reply sounded unconvincing. It was partly but not wholly true. he had been given a detention by "Dicky" Harbour for getting a low mark in a Physics test. Paul resented that, particularly as he had planned to meet his friend Tom after school, have someting to eat, and then go and see a film. Having to spend an hour in detention after school mucked up these plans. In an attempt to get out of a detention, Paul had appealed to "Dicky" Harbour, saying that the reason he had not done well in the test was because he did not understand the subject. Sadly, though, all this achieved was an order from "Dicky" Harbour to see him after school the following Friday, before detention, to go over the subject again. Paul had obeyed this instruction, and duly reported after the final bell had rung at 4 0'clock on Friday afternoon. When he finally got away, it was past 4.15 and Paul could not face explaining to "Bill" Hayman why he was late for detention. Also, he was afraid that "Bill" Hayman might insist that he completed a full hour in detention, which would mean Paul would not get away until 5.20. With these thoughts in mind, he had made a rash decision, and left the school to meet his friend, Tom. Now Paul knew he would have to face the music.
"I see," replied "Bill" Hayman. "What time did Mr Harbour let you go?"
"About twenty past four," replied Paul.
"Right," said "Bill" Hayman. "I will check up on that, and see you in detention after school today. You do realise that I usually cane boys who don't turn up for detention, don't you?"
"Yes," replied Paul. He did not know this, and hoped it would not come to that. The previous year Paul had been caned for receiving three detentions in one term, and did not wish to repeat the expereince. He remembered well having to bend over and receive four strokes of "Bill" Hayman's cane. Nevertheless, Paul was relieved. He was sure nothing more would be said. "Bill Hayman" was a busy man, and would have better things to do than run around checking up on his story.
After school, Paul joined about 15 other boys in the detention room. "Bill" Hayman handed out the work, then did a roll call of boys present. When completed he said. "Hands up those boys who are due for the cane." About 6 boys raised their hands, and "Bill" Hayman walked over to his desk, took out a key from his pocket, opened a drawer, and selected a cane.
"Come out, one by one to the front, starting with you," said "Bill" Hayman, pointing to one of the boys sitting at the front. The individual concerned stood up, walked to the front, bent over, and received four strokes of the cane. As he returned to his seat, the second boy walked to the front, received his four strokes, then returned to his seat. This procedure went on until the last caning had been completed, then "Bill" Hayman returned the cane to the drawer, and locked it.
"Thank goodness," thought Paul. "I have escaped."
Sadly Paul's relief was short lived. At that moment, "Bill" Hayman looked at him and said, "ah, yes, I must see Mr Harbour. I will be away for a few minutes." With that he left the room.
The next few minutes were agony for Paul. He suspected he was in trouble. One of the boys who had been caned started to rub his bottom and said, "that hurt, he is in form today!"
After a few minutes the door opened, and "Bill" Hayman swept in and said, "Mr Harbour said he did not keep you beyond five past four."
"It was later than that," replied Paul, knowing he was now in real trouble.
"I think you had better come out to the front," said "Bill" Hayman, moving to his desk, opening the drawer and selecting a cane.
"Oh no," thought Paul as he walked to the front of the class, "I am going to be caned!"
"Bend over!" ordered "Bill" Hayman.
Paul bent over, clearly not far enough because he felt a hand on his back pushing him down further. For some reason, Paul's school blazer was still covering half of his bottom, and he felt it being pulled up over his back. Paul then felt his buttocks being tested to see whether he was wearing any padding. Presumambly "Bill" Hayman was satisfied, because the next thing Paul felt was a sharp CRRAACK across the top of his bottom. Once again Paul was surprised how thin his clothing felt. He was sure his trousers and underpants would provide a lot of protection, but that did not seem to be the case. In addition, the stroke seemed much more painful than the four he had received the previous year. C-R-R-A-C-K. Stroke two landed, with another line of pain, stroke three and four landed, then Paul started to stand up, relieved it was all over.
"What are you doing?" asked "Bill" Hayman, "I havn't finished yet. There are two more to come."
Paul resumed his former position, and managed to get through the final two strokes. He walked back to his desk, somehow managing not to rub his stinging bottom. Even though he was nearly crying, he somehow managed a smile. With a certain amount of difficulty he managed to sit down, and finish the detention.
By the time Paul arrived home, the pain had abated, and was replaced by a not unpleasant warm sensation. The first thing Paul did was to get hold of a hand mirror, lock himself in the bathroom, pull down his trousers and pants, and examine the marks on his bottom. He had to marvel how "Bill" Hayman had managed to space out the strokes, resulting in six evenly positioned weals.
When it was time for bed, Paul went up to the bedroom he shared with his 10 year old brother Graham. As he entered the room, Graham was already in bed, and Paul thought he was asleep. Usually Paul stripped off his clothes, then went to the bathroom to have a bath, but tonight he did not want Graham to see the cane marks on his bottom. In view of this, Paul removed his trousers, and pants, and started to put in his pyjama trousers.
"What's wrong?" asked Graham, "are you shy or something?"
Before Paul had a chance to reply, Graham had jumped out of bed, and lifted up Paul's shirt tails, fully exposing his naked bottom.
"Ha!, I thought so, you have had the cane. Lovely marks! Have you told Mum and Dad?"
"What do you think?" replied Paul.
"I thought so," said Graham. "What's it worth for me to keep quiet?"
"What do you want?" asked Paul.
"Nothing at present, but remember I may require a favour in the furure!"