Mr. Carter strode briskly along the corridor occasionally sidestepping to avoid the boys as they wandered rather more slowly to the dining room. His motion was ceased when a door opened and a boy dashed from the room straight into him. He felt a blow to his stomach as a hard elbow made its mark.
"Gosh!.......Sorry Sir!"
"You will be Makin! How dare you dash about like that!"
Taking a firm grip on the boys ear the Housemaster guided him further along the corridor to the nearest window seat. Releasing his grip he sat down and gestured for the boy to bend over his knees.
"Down you come!"
Eleven year old Toby Makin obediently lowered himself across the masters lap. The boys in the immediate vicinity stopped and watched as the Housemaster flipped up the boys blazer, then placed his left hand firmly on the back of the boys neck. Raising his right arm he swung his hand down and landed a dozen hefty slaps to the squirming boys short trousers covered bottom.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
After the final smack had made its mark Makin lie still, his young bottom throbbing at the assault it had suffered. The boy was crying gently, but knew better than to attempt to move until instructed. Mr. Carter stared down at the bottom he had just warmed. He was still angry and wished he had his slipper with him. He was fully aware that his hand spanking had caused considerable discomfort, but he knew that a good slippering was far more painful and he rather enjoyed administering a good hard thrashing to boys.
"Get up Makin"
The boy slowly raised himself up from the masters lap, sniffing, he stood still.
"Report to my study after tea for the slipper.........now carry on........ and you boys!, hurry along!"
Makin swiftly made his escape, dreading visiting the masters study in an hours time. He was no stranger to Mr. Carters efforts with the plimsol and he knew he was in for a very sore bottom.
The Housemaster rose to his feet and smoothed down his trousers. He had enjoyed that, unexpected as it was. It had been a while since he had had a boy across his knees. He made his way to the Masters Common room, grateful that he wasn't on duty in the dining hall. Sitting in his armchair by the blazing fire he lit a cigarette and stared into the flames relaxing for a while. The room was empty except for old Mr. Thomas the elderly, seemingly half senile History Master who was dozing in a chair by the window. Mr. Carter thought about the slippering he would give to young Makin and he felt a surge of excitement. He wondered how many bottoms he had smacked, slippered or caned since he had become a Teacher seven years ago.......countless! He then wondered how many the old History Teacaher had caned over the years, the mind boggled! Throwing his cigarette into the grate he closed his eyes and dozed.
He was rudely awakened by a loud banging on the door. He opened his eyes with some annoyance as did Mr. Thomas who almost jumped out of his seat!
"Come in!" shouted the old man.
The door opened and a boy gingerly stepped into the room. It was Clarke Snr. a thirteen year old.
"Excuse me Sir.......you told me to report to you Sir"
"Ahhhh yes!.....Clarke! so I did ....... I did NOT however instruct you to barge your way into the Masters common room like Atilla the Hun......have you NO manners boy?!!!"
Mr. Thomas was decidedly tetchy. Mr. Carter watched the scenario with some interest, he had a distinct impression that an interesting outcome would result.
The boy blushed a deep pink spreading over his cheeks.
"Sorry Sir"
"'Sorry Sir'......huh! if I had a shilling for every silly litttle boy who's said 'sorry Sir' over the years I would be a wealthy man......now boy, why did I instruct you to report to me?"
The boy nervously twisted the hem of his short trousers.
"I didn't finish my prep' Sir"
"Ah yes.......wanton laziness.......it will not be tolerated boy, no, not tolerated, you will oblige me and approach the armchair"
The red faced boy walked across the room to the big leather armchair whaich had been indicated.
"Trousers down and bend!"
With fumbling fingers the boy undid and lowered his short trosuers to his ankles, then he lowered himself across the arm of the chair. Meanwhile the elderly master had opened a cupboard in the corner of the room and selected a springy rattan cane. Walking back to the boy he flipped the boys blazer up and back thus exposing his underpants clad bottom, splendidly presented for punishment. Taking position the master raised the cane high then without a word he swung it down onto the white underpants. 'CRACK!' the sound not unlike a gunshot echoed through the staff room. Clarke gritted his teeth. Mr. Thomas might be old but he certainly knew how to cane! In his own chair Mr. Carter sat watching, his legs crossed. 'CRACK!' the second stroke made its mark. 'CRACK!' there was a muffled cry from the boy.
"Keep still boy!.......bottom right out!"
'CRACK!' the fourth stroke landedfairly low down causing a dreadful explosion of fresh almost unendureable pain in the boys backside.
"OOOOWWWWWW!!!!!!!"
"Silence!"
'CRACK!'
"AAAAAGGGGGHHHHH SIRRRRRRRRRRRR!"
"Silence boy!........"
'CRACK!' the sixth stroke was aimed right at the crease where the buttocks join the tops of the thighs. A vivid red line appeared on the bare flesh below the leg openings of the boys underpants.
"OOOOOOOWWWWWWOOOOOOOWWWWWW!"
"Up boy!.......dress yourself and get out!"
The crying boy stood upright, immediately clutching at his scalding, throbbing bottom. Rubbing furiously he became aware of the elderly mans stony stare.
"Sorry Sir"
Sniffing, he pulled up his shorts and with great care tucked his shirt in at the back. Once presentable he made a hasty exit.
Mr. Carter, now sporting a full blown erection inside his own underpants, kept his legs crossed and lit a fresh cigarette.
"I apologise for disturbing your relaxation Mr. Carter"
"Not at all Mt. Thomas, not at all! duty must come first......ah.......may I congratulate you on an efficient ah, caning....... you seem to have perfect aim!"
The elderly master snorted.
"Practice young man, practice .........I caned my first boy when I was twenty and I've been teaching for forty two years now.......if I couldn't get a stripe where I want it by now, well, I wouldn't be fit to be a school master!"
"No, quite"
Mr. Carter smiled to himself as the old man lowered himself back into his armchair. In an instant he seemed to drift off to sleep. Giving his still half erect member a squeeze through his trousers Mr. Carter glanced at the clock eagerly awaiting his visit from young Makin. He rose, adjusted the front of his trousers and made his way to his study to prepare.
The Housemasters private study was a delightful room, more a sitting room really, only the large desk and piles of books intruded a work aspect. Those and the old size ten plimsol that 'lived' on the window sill and the three canes in the big chinese vase by the door. Mr. Carter picked up the plimsol and held it firmly in his right hand. He rarely caned, much prefering to slipper, indeed, just holding the slipper gave him a certain satisfaction. He couldn't explain to himself, let alone anybody else, why the act of punishing boys gave him such pleasure. He wondered whether any of the other masters enjoyed a similar sensation, certainly Mr. Thomas had not appeared to do so, the caning had been administered cooly and crisply, just another duty to perform.
There was a timid knock at the door.
"Come in"
Young Makin entered the room and stood looking woefully at the Housemaster.
"Ah, Makin.......you're here for the slipper arent you..............."