An illicit secret club is, to a 12 year old boy, as a honeypot is to a bee. The more select the membership, the more determined he is to join. There can be no doubt that the Three Stripes Club at Burcliffe School was the one which all junior boys aspired to join above all others. Applications for membership had to be made during the year between a boys twelfth and thirteenth birthdays. Once accepted, he could remain a member until his fifteenth birthday. The privileges of membership, especially to a twelve year old, were immense.
First, all members were deemed to be equal. That meant that older members had to treat younger ones with proper respect. While the general practice in the school was for older boys to look down on their juniors, indeed not even to talk to them save for purposes of criticism, a completely different regime applied to members of the Three Stripes. If you ever saw a twelve year old boy being greeted warmly by a fourteen year old, you could tell immediately that they must both be members of the Three Stripes. There was nothing a new member liked better than to be seen hobnobbing with a boy two years ahead of him, and nothing made a twelve year old non-member more envious than to witness such a scene.
Second, there was a remarkably strong bond of loyalty between members. Of course, no self-respecting school boy would ever sneak on another and most, seeing an innocent boy being about to be punished for their own offence, would be expected to own up and take the punishment themselves. But the loyalty between Three Stripes members was far greater than that. No member, for instance, when asked by another to take part in some illegal venture would ever refuse to do so, however risky the enterprise or severe the likely punishment if it was detected. The only exception to that rule, and it was a very sensible one, was that no member was required to do something which could lead to expulsion from the school. If one member, who had acted in concert with others in breaking a rule was ever caught, all the others would be expected to own up as well. The theory behind that practice was that it was often the case that a single offender would be punished more harshly than a group. If any member had it within his power to help another who was in trouble of some sort, he was required to give that help, whatever the risks to himself.
Then there was the attraction of the sanctity of the club premises themselves. The club met in a small out-building in a clearing in the woods on the school grounds. It had one large and one small room. Amazingly, it was provided with electricity and heating by the school so that it could be used throughout the year. It was officially known as the Junior Debating Clubhouse. But there was no junior debating society which ever met there. There was an unwritten rule, complied with by all from headmaster down, that no master or prefect would ever enter the building unless invited by the !junior debating society" (for which read Three Stripes Club). That rule, if it ever had to be explained to an outsider by a member of staff, was justified by a belief in "free speech": no junior boy expressing an opinion in a debate should ever fear punishment for doing so, however disagreeable that opinion might be to the authorities. Parents, in particular, were very impressed by that commitment to liberal philosophy.
In fact, of course, the sanctity of the clubhouse gave much greater advantages to the members. Those who wished to experiment with the delights of tobacco or mild alcohol could do so in the sure knowledge that they would not be caught while doing so. Masters or prefects with sensitive noses might sometimes consider that the smell of a boy's breath was sufficient evidence to allow justice to be done, but that was a risk in every case. Similarly, gambling (which was strictly prohibited in the school) could be undertaken with impunity in the clubhouse. There were endless possibilities for illicit activities behind the closed door of the club.
It might be wondered how such an institution could possibly have been allowed to survive, as it had, for more than fifteen years. All prefects, after all, would be fully aware, from their own days as juniors, of all that went on in the club. Surely, in such a closed community as a school, masters too must have been aware of the true nature of the "junior debating society". And of course they were. They tolerated the Three Stripes for various reasons. First, they knew that boys would get up to all kinds of wrongdoing whether the club existed or not. It was generally thought to be better that the wrongdoing was contained in the clubhouse, rather than going on all over the place (generally speaking those who had obtained membership were also those who were most likely to misbehave). Second, the members of the club and the prefects had a tacit understanding that the behaviour of the members would be kept within reasonable bounds. If word ever got out that behaviour was going beyond those bounds, the prefects would have a quiet word with the older members of the club and order would be restored. Third, the requirement of absolute loyalty between members was one which appealed to the headmaster and his staff. Finally, it was convenient that the obligation on members to own up to an offence for which only one member had been caught meant that many more offenders were punished than would otherwise be the case.
If age had been the only qualification for membership, the club would undoubtedly have folded many years earlier. It would have become pointless if every boy could join. Exclusivity was vital to its success. How was that achieved? The answer is straightforward. First, membership was restricted to thirty boys in all so, if there was no vacancy, any applicant would have to wait for a more senior member to reach his fifteenth birthday. Second, there were actually two qualifications for membership. One was age. The other was one which was not so effortless to achieve. Membership depended on a boy acquiring "three stripes". He must demonstrate that, while at school and while twelve years old, he had been given at least three strokes of the cane. Any boy who had been caned by a master (three strokes was the minimum ever given) was entitled to join. The trouble was that the cane was only extremely rarely used on boys under thirteen. For older boys it was a relatively common punishment. But the headmaster considered that less vicious implements ought, wherever possible, to be used on boys who had not yet reached their teens. Indeed, the vast majority of boys would reach their thirteenth birthdays without ever having been caned. Most, if not all, in any given year would be beaten with a slipper or a gym shoe (usually on several occasions), but only a handful (usually two or three) would get the cane. And even those would be unlikely to have their first taste of the cane until well on into the year.
There was one other way of fulfilling the requirement of having three stripes. So long as a boy had been beaten by a prefect or a master with a slipper or gym shoe, he could obtain membership by agreeing to be given three strokes of the cane by a senior member of the club. The procedure was simple. A boy wishing to obtain his three stripes in this way was required to inform the club secretary of that wish. If there were no vacancies at that time, the secretary would place the boy's name on the waiting list. Any boy who had been caned by a master would be admitted before any boy seeking membership in this way, but apart from that, when an applicant reached the top of the waiting list he would be the next to be eligible for membership. Once a vacancy existed, the secretary would set a time for the caning. A period of one week had to elapse between the time being set and the caning taking place. During that week word would be passed around all the members that a new member was to be initiated. On the day before that set for the ceremony, the club would meet in full session and elect a member (who had to be fourteen) to carry out the caning. By convention, only those boys who had not yet caned an applicant would be eligible to be elected. Then, on the following day, all would gather again in the clubhouse to witness the event. Any applicant who decided not to go through with it would be placed on a blacklist which meant that he could never join in the future, even if he was caned by a master.
Ten minutes before the time set for the caning, the applicant would arrive at the clubhouse and be escorted by the secretary into the small room. He would wait there while the members assembled in the large room. Then the boy who was to administer the beating would open the door to the small room and summon the applicant in. The applicant would then see that all the members were sitting on chairs, as though in a theatre, facing the raised dais at the other end of the room. On the dais was a small desk against the wall with about six feet separating it from the edge of the dais. On the desk was a standard school cane. There was a central aisle between the rows of chairs. The applicant, the secretary and the boy who was to wield the cane would walk down the aisle to the dais. All three would mount the dais. The applicant would then undo and remove his trousers and hand them to the secretary. Then, with bottom only protected by brief white cotton underpants, he would approach the middle of the desk and bend over it. The secretary would then leave the dais and its only other occupant would step forward and pick up the cane. Then, using all his might, he would proceed to give the applicant three strokes with the cane. Although there was a rule that an applicant who attempted to get up before the beating was concluded or who cried would not be admitted to membership, neither had ever been known to happen.
After the last stroke the applicant would be permitted to stand and rub his bottom. Once he was fully composed again, he would bend over again. The boy who had caned him would then step forward and pull down the underpants. He would then turn to the other members and, in the time hallowed words, say "fellow members of the Three Stripes Clubs, you are now required to witness that this applicant has truly acquired three stripes and is therefore now a member of our club". Each member in turn would then walk forward, ascend the dais and, having seen the marks on the boy's bottom, solemnly pronounce "I witness that this applicant has acquired three stripes". When all members present had performed this ritual, the secretary would tell the applicant that he could now stand, pull his underpants up and put his trousers on again. Once that was done, the secretary would announce that the applicant was now a full member of the club, enjoying all the privileges and rights of membership. Following a round of applause the formal part of the meeting was over and boys would mingle together. Some would go to the new member and ask what the caning had been like for him. Some would go to the boy who had done the caning and ask what the experience had been like for him, or congratulate him on his technique. All would eventually depart in highly contended frames of mind.
The hero of this story is Sam Whitstable. He arrived for his first term at the age of 12. He had never boarded before, but he was a gregarious and resilient boy. He settled into his new life quickly and happily. He had natural advantages. He was good at games. He was good looking and tall for his age with a well proportioned slim build. He had an adventurous spirit of the sort which is attractive to other boys. If a midnight feast or an expedition to somewhere out of bounds was being planned, he would be one of the first to volunteer. He was mildly cheeky to masters in a way which endeared him to them (because it was not extreme) and to other boys (because it showed a natural courage). He was generally considerate to others. He stood up to those who tried to bully him and was quick to protect others who were being bullied.
Sam, and all the other new boys, learned quickly about the Three Stripes Club. There were fifty new boys altogether. At the beginning of term there were ten vacancies in the club. Sam determined within days that he would do his best to get into the club. Of course, he could not make an application yet because of the condition precedent that an applicant must, at the least, have been beaten with a gym shoe or slipper before he could apply. From what he had gathered, it was probable that a boy of his high spirits would be able to comply with that condition fairly soon. There was even a chance, he thought, of being caned at a relatively early stage. On the whole he would rather join the club by that route than by having a caning which had not been earned. But he was going to watch the situation very carefully. If word got around that the vacancies were being filled, he would join before it became too late.
Two weeks into the term Sam managed to get over the first hurdle. He was ten minutes late for prep one evening. The prefect who was supervising his class, a seventeen year boy called Tomlinson, called for an explanation. There wasn't one, other than forgetfulness. Tomlinson told the rest of the class to work silently while he and Sam paid a visit to the junior changing rooms.
Once in the changing rooms Tomlinson was to the point.
"Right, change into games shorts without underpants. Im going to beat you."
Sam took his shoes off, undid his trousers, took them off and folded them neatly. He slipped his underpants off and opened his locker to get his shorts. Tomlinson admired the firm young bottom he was about to beat. It was, he thought, perfectly proportioned for a thrashing. Sam slipped the shorts on and turned to face the prefect.
"OK, bend over in the middle of the room. Touch your toes but don't bend your knees".
Sam complied. The shorts hugged the round bottom. His legs were slim but strong looking. There was not the slightest shake. Tomlinson was conscious of becoming aroused already. He hoped it wouldn't become too obvious. Sam, for his part, was nervous and apprehensive. He had been slippered at his previous school on five occasions and he had been spanked by his father on too many occasions to count. But he had a feeling that this was going to be rather worse than any of those punishments. He was determined, however, to take it without any sign of distress.
Tomlinson knew that the most he could get away with for a first offence of this nature was three. He realised that some might say that two would be enough. But this bottom was just too good a target. Three it would be. He walked six paces back. He paused. Then he ran forwards, gym shoe behind his back. As he reached Sam he swung his whole body round with his right arm and smashed the shoe into Sam's bottom. The crash was gratifyingly loud.
Sam's fears had been amply justified by the first stroke. It was very painful indeed. But he had been prepared. He stood his ground and waited for the second. He watched Tomlinson make the slow walk back to the start of his run up. A short pause followed and then the second run up and the second crash as Sam's bottom took the full force of the blow.
Sam took that one just as well, although the pain and heat in his bottom were mounting by the second.
The final stroke was a tour de force. Sam had used the word "agony" before to describe the state of his bottom after punishment. But this time he really meant it. After a short pause he was told that the punishment was over and that he should change back into his normal clothes. He took his shorts off and walked back to his locker, giving Tomlinson a wonderful view of his scarlet bottom. Before replacing his underpants, he rubbed his bottom with both hands. Then slowly pulled up the underpants and trousers. Tomlinson was holding the gym shoe in front of him, to hide the state of his excitement. "Oh God", he thought to himself, "how can I get through the rest of prep without relieving this pressure". But he knew he had to.
As they walked back to the class, Tomlinson asked Sam what he had thought of the beating.
"A classic, I'd say, Tomlinson. You must be known as the hardest whacker in the school."
"Nice of you to say that, but you're the first boy I have ever beaten, other than one in the Three Stripes when I was fourteen."
"Well, I don't think you need worry about your ability with a gym shoe. My bum is incredibly sore."
Sam was the first boy to be beaten in his year. There was no need to rush to enrol for the Three Stripes, but it was nice to know that he could do so at any time. He thought he'd give it a few weeks, just to see whether he might be caned by a master.
Two more weeks passed and Sam was caught in the kitchens at midnight getting food for a midnight feast. Mitchell was head boy. Any other prefect might have sent Sam to the headmaster in the hope of his being caned. Stealing, after all, was a serious offence. But Mitchell knew that the head would not give more than three strokes with the cane and might well use a slipper instead. The head boy, and no other prefect, was empowered to give six with a gym shoe. He also had another privilege, shared by no one else (not even the headmaster). He could beat a boy's bare bottom. No, six with a gym shoe on the bare bottom would certainly be preferable.
"Youre for it Whitstable. Come to my study now."
They made their way along the long corridor and up the stairs. Mitchell opened his study door and ushered Sam in.
"Let's not hang about. Take your dressing gown off."
Sam took it off and placed it over the back of a chair.
"Now take your pyjama trousers down."
Sam did as he was told.
"Bend over the table".
Sam bent over the table.
"You deserve to be given at least four with the cane and if I was sure that you would be, I would have sent you to the head. But there is a distinct risk he would be lenient. In those circumstances I propose to give you six with the gym shoe. I think I can make it hurt as much as four with the cane from the head." As he spoke he was looking at Sam's bottom. His feelings were the same as Tomlinson's had been. This boy could have been designed for the sole purpose of being beaten.
Mitchell did not need the theatre of a run up. He was an accomplished expert in the art of thrashing boys' bottoms. The force came, he knew, from the correct use of shoulder, arm and wrist muscles and he was a past master. He tapped Sam's bottom with the shoe, drew it back and swung it forward with explosive force. Same was grateful to have the table to support him. Had he been touching his toes he reckoned he would have been thrown to the ground. "Wow", he thought, "that was twice as hard as Tomlinson and I've got to have five more."
Mitchell was pleased with the first stroke. It had landed well. A wonderful pattern from the ridges of the sole of the shoe had immediately appeared on Sam's bottom. At first they were pink. Within ten seconds they had become scarlet. Time for the second. Another corker. Sam was now gripping the table with his fingers and biting his lip. But he was an optimist "only four to go", he said to himself.
The four followed. At the end Sam felt he could hardly stand, the pain was so bad. But he managed. He clutched his bottom with both hands and let out a long sigh. But not a tear was in sight. After a few seconds he recovered enough to let go of his bottom. He picked up his pyjama trousers and, very slowly so as to give Mitchell a good look at his handiwork, pulled them up. Mitchell was delighted. This was a boy to watch. He seemed to be made of steel. Thinking of which, there was a certain part of Mitchell's body which was quickly beginning to resemble a steel rod. He ushered Sam out, telling him to go straight back to his dormitory, closed the door and locked it. I fear we can imagine what he did then.
That decided it for Sam. There was no point in waiting to be caned in a conventional manner. He resolved that, as soon as his bottom had recovered enough, he would apply to join the Three Stripes Club.
To be continued............