I attended a traditional boys high school with an excellent reputation in sports and academic achievement. The cane was used in the classroom and the strap in the associated boarding establishment. They were the prime and almost only means of keeping order. Almost all teachers caned - usually in the corridor outside the classroom. The headmaster held court twice daily - once immediately after morning assembly and again just before resumption of afternoon classes. There were always several canings every school day and sometimes dozens.
When the cane was used it was used well in the hope it would not have to be used often. We took it across our school uniform shorts while touching ours toes. It raised welts and made the eyes water. Most boys got their first caning in the third form and their last in the fifth form. However, sixth and upper sixth formers certainly were not exempt. If senior boys were caned they generally got at least 4 and usually 6. My first caning was for inattention in the third form - I was caught out by an unexpected question while day dreaming and got one crisp welt-raising stroke for my trouble. My last caning was in the fifth - I can't recall what I did but I did get four laid on hard along with a large group of other boys.
Boarders, including myself, got strapped when we broke hostel rules. The strap was always applied to the bare buttocks, sometimes formally but more often informally in various postures and states of undress. My first strapping was in the third form for talking after lights out. The duty master caught us and strapped us lying, pyjama pants down, face down on our beds. The punishment was not recorded and hence was informal and did not affect our school reports or references.
I became one of the hostel manager's favourites because of my success as a fast bowler and, possibly, because of the way I took his strappings - I decided early on if the unavoidable couldn't be avoided then it was best taken with a modicum of dignity and decorum. Also, I believed that my body was nothing to be ashamed of so was not embarrassed exposing my bottom. I think this is why I became the only boy but two in the school to "strap butt".
In the second term of my upper sixth form year the hostel manager, who also happened to be the PE teacher and the coach of the First Eleven, broke his right arm in an accident. This severely curtailed his ability to strap bottoms. Thus, it came about that I was required to deputise on a number of occasions when instant strappings were deemed necessary.
The first time I was wakened around 11 PM by a wide eyed and very nervous third form boarder shaking me by the shoulder. He had been sent by the hostel manager. Mr. H wanted me to come at once. I donned my dressing gown and followed the lad back to the junior dorm where I found several bare bottomed boys bent over the ends of their beds waiting. I was asked to strap their bottoms and to lay it on hard but to watch my "line and length". I did as I was bid but did not really enjoy the experience as the boys were novice third formers and very frightened - I had to steel myself to do the job properly. Soon after this, the very same strap was applied to my own bare butt.
I was and still am reluctant to explain my unauthorised late night absence from school. It was detected unexpectedly by the broken-armed hostel manager. By rights, he should have reported me to the headmaster but was reluctant to do so because of the damage it might do to my reputation. In the ordinary course of events he would have punished me informally himself but could not do so because of his injury. He asked me what I thought should be done. I suggested, without having to wrack my brains, that the captain of the cricket team, a noted batsman and a friend of mine should be asked to deputise. Mr. H pointed out this task (strapping my backside) would be a an onerous one for a friend and that I might be better to take it from "X", another fast bowler who resented my frequent selection ahead of him. I was not able to fault the logic and, being rather anxious to avoid a headmaster's inquiry, consented to strapped by this classmate and enemy.
There is no doubt that X was absolutely thrilled by the opportunity and totally determined to make the best of it. I was equally determined to give him minimum satisfaction. The "event" was to take place in the school gym at the beginning of evening prep with only the cricket team in attendance (a kindness on the hostel manager's part - keeping things in house and hence reasonably secret). I showered and changed into clean clothes in preparation. My spies told me X spent the time practising his swing.
I arrived a little early for my appointment but found all my team mates already there, and all preparations already made. Grim faced Mr. H arrived on time and said nothing except "Proceed". I removed my jacket and, instead of just removing my pants, did a quick total strip, placing my clothes on a nearby bench. I draped myself as boldly as I could over the punishment stool - I was a slender 17 year old at the time and in good shape. "Twelve of the best! Proceed!" commanded Mr H. I knew I would get more than six but had not expected a full dozen so was momentarily disconcerted but managed to hide it.
There was a bit of a delay while X removed his jacket. He was so eagerly anticipating strapping me it seems he lost his composure when I started stripping and made no preparations himself. Also, I suspect that some of my supporters may have said things to him that had unsettled him a bit. They were looking forward to seeing me given a good strapping but considered X's lust for the task indecent and may have said so to him.
It was not my first strapping but the first stroke did take me greatly by surprise as it landed very low and long on my thighs. The end of the strap wrapped around hitting my knee cap and making a nasty wound. Just the sort of thing one might expect from X who often folded under pressure, which was the reason I was usually selected ahead of him as the team's fast bowler.
It is possible I gave voice to the pain and the shock I experienced but, fortunately, this was drowned out by the exclamations from my watching team mates. None would have been adverse to the severest stroke landing on target but they were adverse to strokes landing haphazardly, and rightly so.
I am not sure where the second stroke landed - it had little force or effect. The third stroke landed high and short - on my back. It was much deprecated by the watching crowd who were now quite vocal. At this point the captain stepped forward and seized the strap. "Let me do it, please Sir!" "Mr H, who was also greatly concerned by now, immediately consented.
The captain whispered "Sorry" in my ear as he prepared himself. "That's okay - but do it properly." I whispered back. Aloud I said "Please start again at one". I am not sure why I said this - bravado maybe, or perhaps I was just wanting to totally discount X's inept efforts. Two of his strokes had hurt me but the pain was of the wrong kind - unsatisfying to me as a penitent.
The captain positioned himself carefully, tentatively rehearsing the stroke. Then he wound up and let fly. The strap landed square and flat on the centre of my cheeks with astoundingly loud CRACK! There was a short delay before the pain came - it was pure, clean and intense and it "built". One part of my brain registered the approval and admiration of the spectators while the other dealt with the pain. I did my best to try to welcome it rather than to resist or ignore it.
The second stroke landed before the first had taken full effect and it built on the effects of the first. Thereafter, the strokes came in a steady rhythm, with someone counting out loud, as the captain set about the task of making the whole of my bottom and upper thighs hurt to the maximum extent possible. He did the job very well and my resolve and fortitude were thoroughly tested.
Several kind hands helped me off the stool and back onto my feet while the fire raged in my nether regions. It was quite a while before I was able to dress and longer still before the pain was replaced by the most marvellous after glow of a thoroughly strapped bottom. The consensus was that the strapping had started very badly but had concluded very well. The captain and I enhanced our reputations while X totally ruined his. There was considerable interest in my bottom and its changing colours over following days.
The strap landed on a great many boys' bottoms after mine before it fell out of favour as a disciplinary tool. It was then temporarily lost to history but now lives in the top drawer of my desk, savoured but little used. The captain and I remain good friends to this day. I still appreciate his kindness in giving me such a sound strapping. My sentence was just and I needed to pay the price in full. That being so, it was so much better to have a friend do the task than anyone else.