Sean McFadden had served as a Borstal Warder for over eighteen years. In that time, he had seen his share..no more than his share of lads get bit by the cane or tawse, or strap. He had volunteered to become a warder, and thus one who can give punishment, when he first arrived. It took several years of observation and work before he was allowed to "administer" as they say. On rare occasions, they used the birch rods, and birched either a number of strokes, or the famous "til the blood". He couldn't really understand that, as the very act of birching would bring tiny blood dots to the surface of the skin. He didn't understand it until he first observed such a birching. Then, he couldn't forget it.
The Island parliment had passed a bill which not only encouraged the Borstal to use (or more rightfully 'continue to use') corporal punishment. The Borstal had never stopped using it. The parliment then passed forther, more bold legislation, when it recognized that parents were becoming lazy, and children were becoming more and more of a problem. At first, 'senior boys', those from 16 to 18 only, were allowed to be punished at Borstal, even if they had no court record. A parent could simply petition the Borstal, pay a small fee, and the lad would feel the sting of a Warder punishment on his bare arse. The program worked. Perhaps it worked too well, for the age was then dropped to junior boys (described as 13 to 15), and then to "all ages" although the youngest so far had been ten. It was a traumatic event for a child, whether he was in the facility, or simply sent to it for punishment. There was some protesting, demanding equal rights, and the punishment had been opened to girls, but none had been run through so far.
Sean enjoyed his work. He honestly felt that he was helping these youth along, giving them an incentive to stop their ways, and change. Officially, the age classifications ran "Seniors 16-18" Juniors 13-15" and sub-Juniors 12 and under. Sean called them seniors, juniors, and babies.
Saturdays were punishment days at Borstal, and as of late, had become somewhat busy. The punishment room was a tiled room with one large reflective hanging light. The miscreant was brought in, along with those who were also to be punished that day. They would sit on a bench, those who were incarcerated would have cuffs on, the rest would not. It was running about six to one now, with the inmates in the minority. The room had no windows. There was air conditioning, and heat, although some would wonder about the heat. The room was kept purposely cold, as the warder could and did usually work up a sweat. In the center of the room was a contoured horse like thing, not unlike the "birching pony" that was so famous in the colleges just a few decades ago. The horse had straps in abundance, and the miscreant could easily find him herself strapped and unable to move.
On the far wall, in sight of the horse, was a wall cabinet with canes, two tawses, three thick belts, and an extreemly heavy paddle. The cabinet's outside doors were covered with mirror. It was placed so that once the doors were shut, the child could look forward, and slightly up, and see their reflection in the mirror. Of more interest was a similar cabinet on the far wall, further down, which reflected the backside of the child. Thus, a child could see both their face, and with the flick of an eye, their own bottom.
Sean checked the day's list. There were four "sessions" planned, a 17 year old inmate, who had been here before, a 13 year old junior from outside, and.....what? He tore the paper off of the wall, and walked back to the captain's room. "Here, sir, what's this about?" he questioned. There on the sheet, were the penciled in names of two "babies", actually eleven year old twins. That didn't concern him, what did is that the twins were listed as Jason and Jamie. "This ain't one of those typos is it? I mean "Jamie" sounds suspiciously like a girl. I never whipped no girl baby, and don't want to start now." The captain laughed "It's supposed to be James, I'll bet my pension."
Sean went back to the room, and read the report on the first lad. He was 17, and had been caught smoking...again...in the waste room. There were many dangerous things in that room, many things to catch fire. The boy had been reprimanded twice before, and given six of the tawse two months ago. He was to receive a "birching to the blood". Sean watched the boy swagger into the room, like he owned it. Birchings were messy, with twigs flying all over, so Sean told the boy to strip completely, and get over the horse. There were two burly guards there, who would be there to help in case the boy did not do as he was told. He sneered at Sean, and then pulled his shirt off. He unfastened his shoes, and removed them. Then, he pulled his trousers and pants down together, bending away from Sean when he did it, wagging his butt towards him, as if to anger him. Sean would have no part of it. He knew that if he were angry, he might just whack the boy too hard at first, and cut the skin. Then, the boy could rightfully claim "to the blood" had been reached, even though it hadn't. He watched as the boy climbed over the horse, and seemed to settle in, like a polar bear during winter. He went to the lad, and threw the large, thich leather strap over the boy's lower back, protecting the kidneys. Then, the boy's hands were forced into leather restraints, and those were fastened to eye bolts in the floor. He went to the boy's rear, and moved his leg out, to the furthest area, where he fastened the restraint, and fastened his leg at the same time. He then fastened a thigh restraint and clicked it onto the horse. Last, he pulled his other leg wide apart, and fastened it and his thigh again. This was not an easy thing for the boy. First, and foremost, he was fully exposed. His bag was hanging down low, and swaying, the outline of his balls being quite pronounced. Above that, he tried to close his anus, but the position of his legs precluded that.
Sean went to the soaking birch rods. He flicked the cold water across the boy's buttocks, then brought the rod down with a satisfying "crack". Sean knew that the birch pain was incidious. It built up, the first stoke not seeming to be much, then the next built on the first etc. He quarter turned the birch in his hand, and continued his assault on the boy's bottom. Over, and over, the strokes landed. When the first rod was done, the boy's bottom was a dark red with little blue and red dots on the surface. He stood behind the boy, between the legs, and brought the birch down overhanded, running it so that its tips clung and bit the inside of the boy's butt crack. The rod was run down his cheeks, to his anal opening. She then gave a series of overhand strokes, down into the cleft, walking backwards. She then turned to underhanded strokes, walking forwards.
The birch bit into the super sensitive area between the anus and scrotum, called the 'perineum' it is actually a pretty easy spot to hit, and Sean was an expert. Over and over the birch hit, finally beating a tattoo up and down both buttocks, then up and down again, with the rod "pulled" so that the tips ended up in the boy's crack. By now, he was screaming. The strokes continued, until finally, due to the many small cuts from the birch, the sentence was pronounced finished.
The boy lay there, beaten (literally). He was allowed to compose himself, and get up. He chose to not wear any sort of pants for the 24 to 48 hours that the medical examiner said his butt would hurt. He walked out, with his jeans tied around his waist, tears flowing from his eyes.
Sean watched the area being cleaned up, and waited for his next "visitor"
End, Chapter One