The five small boys stood nervously outside the headmasters study, noses to the wall, hands clasped behind their backs. Although they were all in the same class, and good friends, they knew that their punishments would vary. One thing was certain though – although they were all in the top class of their grade five year, they all had produced less than satisfactory term results, and all would be thrashed. The headmaster took their academic progress very seriously, and soundly tanned the little bottoms of boys who did not work as hard as they should. To make matters worse, the boys who didnt do very well in the grade six and seven classes, and the other two grade five classes had already had their hidings. These lads had been waiting for two days for the feared list to be read out, and their dreaded summons to be issued. All that remained for them to discover was just how sore their young behinds would be when sir was finished with them.
Each boys results had deteriorated, and in the case of Ben and Hugo, their behaviour had been generally poor during the term too, so they would probably get the most severe thrashings. And both had been punished at the end of term like this several times in the past. It was no surprise that these two were the most sombre of the five. Tom had always done really well, it was just this term that things had gone badly. Hed never had a hiding from the headmaster before – in fact, hed never even been spanked at home! Toby, a very bright child, had been strapped a couple of times by sir for his cheekiness and silly pranks, but he, like Tom, had always had good marks at the end of term. Digby, a lively, delightful child, favourite of the teachers, had been strapped (and even caned once) for bad marks. But it had happened seldom, and his bottom had not fallen victim of a spanking of any sort for many months.
Just as the boys started to believe that they could stand the tension no more, the door opened and the headmaster stepped out. He was a big, tall man, and the boys were naturally intimidated by his size. But they had known him for many years, and trusted him. In fact, each one was more ashamed than afraid – they felt they had let the man down, and hated having to be punished by him. He stood behind them, knowing that each little chap could feel his eyes boring into the back of his head. He smiled to himself as he noted each boy nervously clenching his bottom cheeks – even Tom, who had never experienced corporal punishment. It was obvious that these boys knew that they were going to end the day with very sore behinds. He always made sure that when he punished a boy, he did a very thorough job indeed, and his reputation as a fearsome strapper and caner of little boys bottoms was fully justified.
Off with your shoes, socks and trousers, boys, he rumbled, and quickly the five little miscreants followed instructions, placing their trousers neatly on top of their shoes.
Underpants too, sir? asked Tom – unsure how to proceed.
No, my boy. They will come off later. Just turn back to the wall again and wait.
Obediently, the five ten year olds turned around. They looked even more pathetic than before – shirt tails only just covering rounded bottoms, bare legs pale and trembling. Each boy was different in his own way. From the tall, slender Hugo, to the smaller boys – Tom and Toby. Ben, the boy of the five with the best build, stood with his legs slightly apart, an unconscious show of bravado. The headmaster would soon sort that out. Digby, for once, hadnt been grinning when he had undressed, and his chubby bottom was almost shaking under his shirt tail. Hes had a few hidings from sir, but they were rare, and he truly hated the experience. They were almost holding their breaths in anticipation. Sir always gave the worst hidings last, so the boys knew that the first one called in would get away with the lightest punishment.
Tom, come with me please, the big man placed one hand on the small, thin shoulder of the little boy, and walked him into the office, closing the door behind them. The rest of the boys shuffled slightly, but didnt dare make a sound. Now they knew that whatever happened to Tom, would be milder than what they would get, so they sincerely hoped that sir would be easy on their friend in the office.
Inside the office, Tom looked around. He had been in this room many times, generally for good work, but he immediately sensed something was different. Then he saw it. Two straight backed chairs had been placed in the middle of the room, back to back, with a cushion on the seat of each. The headmasters desk, usually cluttered with paperwork, was clear. Well, almost clear. Lying on it was a nasty looking strap – the leather split into two equal length tails. A tawse, really. And next to the tawse, was the legendary cane! It glowed softly yellow – a typical junior cane, whippy, curved handle, very mean looking. Tom sucked in his breath when he saw the two instruments of schoolboy chastisement. He had been expecting them, but was still shocked at seeing the real thing – he had only heard stories of the headmasters infamous strap and cane. Suddenly, his soft little bottom felt very vulnerable under his thin cotton undies.
Gently, the headmaster took Tom and made him kneel on one of the chairs, then bend his body over the back of the two chairs, pressing his head down on the cushion on the second chair. This put the nervous little boy in a tight, kneeling position, head down, knees wide apart and clean white skimpy underpants clad bottom up. On the orders of sir, Tom held as tightly as he could onto the rungs of the chair, below where he was resting his forehead. Then the man neatly rolled the ten year olds school shirt right up under his arms. Putting one hand on the small, upraised and trembling little bottom, the man addressed the boy softly,
I know its the first time that youve been in here for a hiding, Tom, and your schoolwork is usually very good. But Im afraid I make no exceptions. You must be punished.
Yes, sir, squeezed the little voice from deep within the cushion. Tom was just relieved that he hadnt been made to take off his undies. At least he had that tiny, thin bit of protection. He watched out of the corner of his eye as the man picked the strap up off the desk, then disappeared again behind him. He shuffled slightly as he felt the leather being lined up on his bottom – suddenly his underpants didnt seem like much protection at all!
Keep still. The headmaster reminded him, then, with no further ceremony, he pulled the strap back and lashed it across his small target. Toms whole body plunged with the unexpected fire of the first stroke, and the boy yelped with the sudden burning fire. He waited for about ten seconds, long after the boy had settled, before lashing the childs rear end again; enjoying the crack of the leather across the ten year olds cheeks. He enjoyed the end of the term immensely. Rows of small boys for him to whip. The best part of any year. And these particular five youngsters were all very spankable. He had been waiting for the opportunity to lash Tom for some time, and was going to make the most of it.
For Tom, it was nothing like he had expected. He had thought that getting his bottom strapped might be like having a hard tackle in rugby – sore, but not too bad. But this really stung. For the third time, the leather cracked across his upraised bottom, making it feel like it was alight. Then and there, he decided never to give this man cause to give him another hiding, but he still had to get through this one! A fourth mighty lash whipped across his fiery cheeks, and Tom struggled to keep still. But sir waited for the wiggling boy to stop his squirming, and keep his little tail up for some more punishment before giving him his fifth agonising lash, low down, just above the boys legs. Tom sobbed, and wiggled, trying to shake the fire off his bottom, while keeping a white knuckle grip on the rungs of the chair. The sixth stroke fell, and the little boy cried out. This was much worse than he had expected, and he cursed himself for the tears that were already flowing down his cheeks. He had heard the stories – other boys claimed to have had much worse than this and not cried. But perhaps all the stories had been typical schoolboy macho behaviour. This was really, very sore indeed!
Alright, sirs voice was still calm and gentle, get up and rub your bottom.
Tom didnt need to be asked twice. He almost fell off the chairs in the rush to get to his feet and rub his blazing cheeks. The headmaster suppressed a smile as the little boy hopped around in front of him comically, both hands gripping his tail. Tom was a pretty small boy, dark brown haired head barely making it to the mans chest. He waited until Tom, eyes still wet with tears, was standing still, facing him, legs slightly apart, and hands still gripping bottom.
Ow! exclaimed the boy, that hurt sir! I wont ever let my marks slip again!
I hope not, Tom, but Im afraid were not finished with your hiding yet.
Sir? Tom was flabbergasted. Hadnt it been bad enough? He felt that he certainly had learnt his lesson.
Because of your good record, and because its your first time, I went easy on you. But Im now going to give you a taste on what will happen if I have to deal with you again. Take off your underpants.
Oh please, sir! Tom sobbed, but still gripped the waistband of his undies and started slipping them off and down his legs. The headmaster held out his hand, and the sobbing ten year old handed the skimpy piece of clothing to him, noting that the man had not put down the strap, even when the boy had been up and rubbing his bottom.
Now bend over again, as you were before.
When Tom was back in his humiliating, helpless position, the headmaster again folded his shirt up, leaving the preteen naked from his shoulders down. The boys small bottom was still scarlet from his first hefty half dozen lashes from the strap. The man gently rubbed the soft little bum, his hand enclosing both cheeks, as he talked to the crying boy,
Make sure that this lesson gets into your head, Tom. If I have to deal with you again for poor results, your whole hiding will be on your bare bottom, understand?
Yes sir, sobbed the ten year old. He tried in vain to clench his tender bare cheeks as he felt the leather being lined up once again, then the stroke fell, and Tom started to appreciate the protection that he had had from his undies – thin as they were. He bit his lip, almost drawing blood in is effort to restrain his yell as the fire lit up his bare bottom. A long pause, then another fierce lash landed, low, on his sensitive little tail. Another, even longer pause, then the third bare bottomed lash of Toms hiding landed, and the boy sobbed loudly.
Thats it. Up you get. You took it well.
This time was actually slower to get up from his bending position. But his rubbing was no less vigorous. The whole surface area of his bottom was blazing, and even when the headmaster retrieved his underpants and handed them back to the ten year old, he didnt put them on right away, holding them in one hand while massaging his sore cheeks with the other.
Put your underpants on – hurry up. Ive got other boys to punish too, you know.
Sorry, sir, Tom sobbed, suddenly relieved that his hiding was over, and glad that he wasnt one of those waiting outside. He slipped his undies up over his red bottom, and then remembered what the others had told him to say,
Thank you for giving me a good hiding, sir.
The headmaster ushered the still bottom rubbing preteen out the door, and closed it. He wouldnt call the next one in for a few moments. The man wanted the other four boys to take good note of Toms tears and discomfort. Why rush the fun?
He was right. The rest of the boys, not daring to speak to him, were well aware of the effort that Tom was making to stop his sniffling while he stiffly put on his shorts. It didnt go unnoticed that their little friend made no effort to sit on the floor to put on his shoes. Each of them had felt the strength of the headmasters arm before, and understood that placing a sore bottom on the hard floor immediately after a session in sirs office was not easy. Tom struggled to get fully dressed, then off he went, giving his behind a final squeeze as he turned the corner. He would walk across the quadrangle doing his best to show no pain to the other boys in the school, but would no doubt resume his rubbing while waiting in the toilets for the rest of the days victims. It was a tradition to compare injuries. The headmaster was well aware of this, but chose to let it go on. It helped strengthen the schools respect for his ability to give hidings – seeing the battered bottoms galvanised the rest of the boys to behave themselves.
It seemed like forever for the four boys outside the office, but the door finally opened, and the headmaster called in his next customer.
Toby – in here please.
Head down, with a sigh, Toby shuffled past the headmaster and waited while the man closed the office door. He too had noted the furniture arrangement in the room, and the tawse and cane on the desk. But he had been thrashed in here before, so he knew what to expect. Toby was only slightly taller than Tom, but he was a keen runner, and very slim. Although intimidated by the thought of what was going to happen to his young bottom, he was relieved that he was not going to be one of the last. For a fleeting moment he felt sorry for his friends outside, but his attention was taken by the headmasters next command.
Underpants off.
Toby was a proud boy, and knew he deserved punishment. He quickly slipped off his undies and handed them to the head, then stood, hands at his side, head down, awaiting the inevitable. He had only been strapped once on the bare bottom – more of a taster, like Tom had had. His naked rear end felt terribly exposed, but not once did the ten year old question the justness of the coming thrashing. If the headmaster had decided to whip his bare bottom, then the headmaster must be right.
Youve been in here before, Toby. You know the procedure. Bend over, my boy.
Typically, Toby approached the two chairs with his usual confidence – although it was clear that the half naked ten year old was nervous. He climbed up onto the cushion of the first chair, bent over the back, and gently rested his forehead on the cushion of the other chair. His shirt rode up his lower back a little, exposing a startlingly white, slender but rounded small bottom, contrasting to the slightly darker tanned skin of the boys back and legs. Toby widened his knees as expected, and although it was certainly not his intention, his rear end stuck out perfectly for his punishment. The headmaster folded the childs shirt up under his arms, and then collected the strap from his desk. He stood behind the exposed boy, enjoying the sight of his upraised, tightly bent and clearly separated bottom cheeks. The man couldnt resist placing a hand on his small target, gently stroking the soft, smooth cheeks.
Im disappointed that I have to punish you, of all people, for poor academic results, Toby.
Yes, sir, sorry sir, the boy answered clearly, lifting his head slightly off the cushion, then putting it back down again when he had answered sir.
My strap and your bare bottom have become acquainted before, but never for this. However, I fully intend to teach you a good lesson today.
Thank you, sir, Toby didnt even think twice. Thanking the headmaster for hidings was so ingrained into the boys at the school, that it seemed the natural thing to do, even before the leather had fallen. It would also be a matter of pride for Toby to take his beating bravely, and he made sure he kept absolutely still as the softly stroking hand was replaced by the ominous tapping of the twin tailed strap. He didnt have very long to wait. The leather snapped across his upraised, exposed cheeks with its characteristic loud crack, getting an involuntary gasp and slight jerking of the small boys body as the burn of the leather registered. But he kept his behind up for punishment, and, after a pause, the man strapped the boys pale, small rear end again.
Still, Toby, his experience with the strap dictating his stoic behaviour, kept his position. But this didnt stop the ten year old from sobbing as the leather whipped across his naked bum four more times. His formerly pale little cheeks were now bright red, turning a more deep scarlet colour lower down, where the headmaster had concentrated the hiding.
Not allowing the boy to move, the headmaster put the strap back on his desk, then crossed over to the crying, tightly bent preteen. Saying nothing, he gently squeezed and rubbed the throbbing young buttocks of the little lad. He enjoyed the sensation of being able to hold both of the small cheeks in one big hand.
Youre a bright, pleasant little boy, Toby, he lectured as he rubbed some of the burn out of the boys bottom, and Im disturbed to have to thrash your bottom for poor schoolwork.
Im sorry, sir, Toby sobbed, it wont happen again, I promise.
I hope not, young man. But youve spent too much time bending like this in my office this year – your bare bottom is obviously not suffering enough from my strap. Its time that you got a taste of the cane.
No sir! Please! Not the cane!
The man ignored the childs crying, simply crossing back to his desk and recovering the feared flexible implement. He swished it through the air, then tapped it on Tobys red little bottom.
Please, sir, Toby sobbed quietly, but pressed his face back down again and submissively raised his battered tail up for further thrashing. It took all of his will power not to move as he felt the thin, cool stick being lined up across his bare bottom. He had heard the stories, and seen the marks on other boys bums after canings. When Digby had been caned a few months ago, he had shown Toby the three painful looking welts across his lower cheeks, and hed seen the six wicked stripes that Hugo had receive once. And of course Bens bottom had been a star performer in their class. Toby could remember at least three separate occasions when the sobbing blond boy had shown a very well whipped bottom off to the rest of the boys. He hoped that sir wouldnt be as hard as that on him!
The cane was lifted, there was a pause, then it cracked down, just above the preteens legs. The little boy hardly registered the characteristic crack of cane across naked boy flesh – the sound was eclipsed by the almost unbelievable agony. It was much worse that he had expected, and it was only his experience of being on the receiving end of corporal punishment that kept the ten year old in position. Every nerve and instinct was screaming at him to rise up and protect his bottom with his hands, especially as he felt the cane being lined up again on his throbbing cheeks.
Again, the cane cracked down, just below the first stripe, making it feel as if there was just one line of deep, throbbing fire across his lower bottom. Now he understood why boys who had been caned by sir always squirmed on their hard school chairs after a hiding. The headmaster caned just in that sensitive sit down spot. And it really hurt! The relief in the boys tear streaked face was almost comical when the sir allowed him to get up, telling his that his punishment was over.
But next time, Toby, dont expect me to be so lenient!
Thank you sir, for giving me such a good hiding, sir! the boy gasped, as he was ushered out of the office, undies dangling in his hand – he would get dressed in the corridor, and his bruised bottom would serve to make the others even more apprehensive about their punishment. As the office door closed behind Toby, he hopped up and down, desperately trying to rub some of the sting out of his aching backside. Again, the other three dared not turn away from the wall to look at him, but his antics could be heard clearly as he jumped around, then settled and slowly got dressed, carefully pulling his underpants up over his cheeks, then his shorts. A few minutes later, Toby disappeared around the corner, off to join Tom. Ben, Hugo and Digby waited in the quiet corridor.
Many minutes later, the door opened, and the headmaster emerged once again.
Digby, underpants off.
Digby was a little taken aback, as were the others. They had always removed their underpants once safely inside the office. This was a first, Outside, sir? Digby couldnt resist confirming.
Yes, boy. Hurry up.
Not wanting to annoy sir further, Digby followed the instruction, and soon his underpants had joined his trousers, socks and shoes. Being bare bottomed outside the headmasters office was a new, and scary, experience for the ten year old. He looked up at the big man, and was rewarded with a sharp gesture to enter the office. He did, but before sir followed the little boy inside, he addressed the other two lads,
Im tired of seeing you two here, especially you, Ben. Youre both only ten, and are in trouble far too often. Todays the day that you are going to learn a very strong lesson. Both boys dropped their heads, While Im dealing with Digby, you are both to undress completely. When I come out here again, you are to be waiting as you are, but completely naked, do you understand?
The two could hardly believe what they had heard. Naked hidings – and having to wait outside naked – were usually only for the twelve year old boys, and even then, only if they had been very naughty.
Yes, sir. Two little voices whispered. The door closed behind the headmaster, and, slowly, each boy sunk deep into his own fears, Ben and Hugo stripped.
In the office, Digby had already walked over to the chairs, and stood, waiting the order to assume the position for his punishment. He didnt wait long. It was clear that he was in big trouble, but he had also heard sirs command to his class mates, and was greatly relieved that he wasnt in their shoes!
Bend over.
Digby knew the procedure well, and soon was in the tightly bent, submissive position that the two boys before him had found themselves in. The headmaster folded the boys shirt up of course, then regarded the half naked lad kneeling in front of him with some fondness. Digby was the kind of child who it was impossible to dislike. Lazy in the classroom, but always with a winning smile. Sir had had cause to tan that chubby, white little bottom that was presented up to him, and thoroughly enjoyed it every time. Especially when he had given the boy his first ever caning. Three strokes, and Digby had sobbed, his bottom bouncing with each lash. He gently patted the rounded cheeks,
Digby, I have warned you about your schoolwork, my boy. And this bottom of yours has suffered a few times for it. Hasnt it?
Yes sir, Digby sighed. He knew where this was leading, Im sorry sir.
So today Im not going to waste time with the strap. Its straight to the cane for you, Im afraid.
Yes sir, the little boy was resigned to his painful fate.
The large man went to his desk, and for the second time that day, picked the cane up off it, flexing the stick, and then swishing it through the air – knowing full well the effect the sound was having on the nerves of the bending boy. He tapped the tip of the cane a few times on each soft little cheek,
Get your bottom right up for me now, my boy.
Amazingly, although Digbys face was pressed right down and his backside well up, he still managed to lift his bare little rear end up even further for sirs painful attentions. The tapping of the cane disappeared, and long moments later, Digby heard the familiar swish through the air as the stick descended, then the loud, sharp crack as it bit deep into the exposed flesh of his lower bottom. The pain of the cane licking right across his bare buttocks, from thigh to thigh was, of course, excruciating. Far worse than the preteen had remembered from his previous hiding with the cane. He squealed, and his whole body plunged with the agony. But he was a good boy at heart, and knew that he had to take his full thrashing, so he quickly recovered and pushed his poor bottom up for the next stroke. Again, the wicked cane fell, and the reaction from the little ten year old was the same as the fire lit across his chubby bum again.
The headmaster was certainly taking his time, and the wait for the third lash seemed to take forever. Digby had no idea how many he was in for, but knew that it would be more than the three that he had had previously. The third stroke made him feel as if his bottom had been set alight, but, despite the pain, the boy managed to keep his naked tail up for some more of his punishment. It seemed to take forever, but the cane bit into his lower bum, just above his cheeks, for the fourth time. The headmaster was rewarded with a wail of agony from the submissive lad, but still the child kept his throbbing bottom in position.
The headmaster waited for ages, admiring the four deep red stripes that he had laid across the pale, chubby little bottom before him. Aiming carefully, he thrashed his cane right into the crease that separated bottom from top of legs, getting an even louder wail from Digby, and a few moments of desperate squirming from the lad. He noted the white knuckle grip that the boy had on the rungs of the chair below his head. When the preteen was completely still again, he still waited. Then, changing his stance slightly, he delivered the sixth lash, diagonally across the previous five.
Digby truly battled this time. This was the worst hiding that he had ever had in his ten years, by far. But sir was not finished yet. He sensed the man changing his stance yet again, then the cane whipped down across his burning bottom, diagonal again, but this time the other way. It took every ounce of will power not to leap up, but he managed, loudly voicing his distress. After a long pause, the headmaster patted his aching bottom gently with his hand,
That will do, Digby. Up you get.
Digby nearly fell off the chairs in his haste to get up and soothe his burning cheeks with his hands.
Thank you for my hiding, sir, he sobbed, automatically.
The headmaster ushered the crying little boy out of his door, both hands still gripping his well whipped cheeks. He had decided to make the last two wait even longer – standing there completely naked would certainly put them in a suitably submissive and fearful frame of mind, especially with the obviously suffering Digby out there struggling to get his clothes back on.
He let them wait for nearly thirty minute, in that chilly corridor. The two naked boys, knees trembling all the time, listened to the almost silence. They could hear the distance sounds of the school going about its business while they stood idle, waiting to be thrashed. Eventually, the headmasters door opened, and they sensed the big man standing behind them. Neither naked ten year old could stop himself from clenching and unclenching his little bottom cheeks, and the man smiled to himself, looking down at the two little boys.
In you come, he ordered eventually, and the two preteens followed him into the office. They had mixed feelings as the door closed behind them. At least they would be out of the public corridor, but now their punishment would begin. And it would be bad. No doubt about that. As the headmaster came round to face them, instinctively, both children put their hands in front of them to cover their hairless privates. Sir was having none of that.
Hands on heads!
Quickly, the lads hands shot to their heads. The headmaster was determined that humiliation as well as pain would be part of their punishments. He looked them up and down, enjoying their distress. Of course, both boys were far too young to have any hair below the eyebrows, but both little _c_o_c_k_s had shrivelled right up, and two pairs of balls had climbed up too in their nervousness. Hugo was a slim, even thin boy, but there was plenty of sinewy muscle due to his good running and swimming ability. Ben was remarkably well built for a ten year old boy. His pale body reflected the potential to be a heavily muscled young man in a few years. Neither boy had an ounce of fat on his body. Well, almost. Although Hugo was thin, his bottom was rounded enough to have a little baby fat on it. Good for whipping. But Bens bottom was by far the best in the fifth grade, according to the headmaster. It was perfectly rounded, even paler than the rest of his body, and tremendously thrash able. And it had been thrashed, severely, several times over the last couple of years. The boys couldnt drag their eyes away from the desk, where the strap and cane sat.
Well, began the man, no point wasting time. You both know why youre here. Obviously, it has become necessary to really thrash your backsides – and I intend to do a very thorough job today.
The lads couldnt meet his eye, and both were sniffing, battling to keep back the tears before even the first stroke had fallen across their bare little bottoms.
Hugo, you shall be first. Bend over. Benjamin, go and stand over there, he gestured to the wall in front of the chairs, nose on the wall, and keep your hands on your head.
Quickly, the boys complied. Hugo assumed the position over the chairs, slim legs spread, head down, slender, round bottom well raised for punishment. Ben stood, nose against the wall, white, perfect little bottom standing out – still unblemished, but that would change shortly.
The headmaster collected the strap from his desk, and crossed, without haste, to the naked bending figure of Hugo. He ran a hand along the childs slender back, where the spine stood out sharply. The boy was thin, back when the man cupped his bottom in his hand, he noted that the flesh was still soft and there was definitely enough meat for a sound hiding. Stepping back, he lifted the leather, then brought it down forcefully across Hugos small cheeks, getting a gasp of pain form the preteen. But Hugo was a seasoned recipient of hidings at the hand of the headmaster, and managed to keep his bottom up and still. Again, the double tails of the tawse licked across the ten year olds upraised backside, and Hugo sobbed. He knew that with his record, he would get a long, sound thrashing, and gripped the chair, eyes closed, trying his best to take his punishment bravely. For the third time, the naked little boy was lashed, and he cried out softly. No matter how many hidings that he got from sir, they never hurt less. The legend that a frequently whipped boys bottom toughens up, was, according to Hugo, not true. He had just learnt to take it better. The leather was hurting him just as much as it had Tom.
The man was enjoying himself, of course. Hugo was a very thrash able boy, and he enjoyed these sessions. For the fourth time, he whipped the helpless preteen, ensuring that the tails of the tawse wrapped right around both of his exposed cheeks with a delightful snap. Despite his braveness, Hugo squirmed slightly, trying, unconsciously, to wiggle some of the sting from his burning bottom. The headmaster whipped the strap upwards this time, catching the boy on his sensitive lower, sitting down area of his bottom. The preteen sobbed again, and wiggled, but the man placed a had on the small of his back.
Keep still, bottom up, boy!
Quickly, Hugo obeyed, pushing his red behind up for the rest of his hiding. But the headmaster only gave him one more mighty lash with the leather, then ordered him up. After giving the boy only a few seconds to rub his bottom, he ordered him to stand next to Ben at the wall, hands on head. Then he admired the view. The sturdy, muscular Ben, compared with the slender, slightly taller Hugo. One round, white bubble butt, and one slender, but no less shapely bottom, bright red, the individual marks from the tawse visible where it had overlapped onto the boys thighs.
Ben, your turn. Bend over.
Nervously Ben approached the chairs. He still had his hands on his head, and his eyes were wet. The tears had started even before that strap had landed – the sounds of Hugos strapping had greatly increased his nervousness. Ben, like Hugo, was well aware that the six bare lashes with the strap was only the beginning. They had noted Digbys punishment, and knew that theirs had to be worse. He bent over carefully, but correctly. He was the most frequently whipped of his grade, and knew what was expected. It had been just over a year since he had been allowed even underpants in this office, so his bare little bottom was a familiar sight to the headmaster. He healed quickly – his last hiding, five bare bottom lashes with the cane, had only occurred about four and a half weeks ago, but there was no sign of the hiding on his white, chubby cheeks. The headmaster realised that he had clearly been too lenient with this ten year old in the past, and was determined that he would take a much firmer stand with him.
Waiting for his hiding to begin, Ben gripped the rungs of the chair, pressed his face into the cushion and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. Despite his experience over the chairs, he was terrified. His bottom felt so exposed, upraised and bare. He hated getting hidings, but just couldnt seem to stop getting into trouble. It was as if he sensed sirs thoughts. This would be a bad one. The mans hand gently stroked his silky, smooth bottom – always a prelude to a good thrashing, and Ben knew that when the hand was lifted, it wouldnt take long for the punishment to commence. The hand was lifted, then there was a pause that, to the preteen, seemed to last forever. But the strap, as expected, cracked down with the familiar searing pain, and little Ben gasped with the heat of the first lash. Slowly, accurately and very hard, the headmaster leathered the little boys bottom. The child really did have a lovely rear – and he enjoyed turning the small white cheeks gradually red with the hefty lashes of the tawse. The pain increased as the leather was focused low down on his cheeks, overlapping, and the ten year old pressed his face as hard as he could into the cushion, gripping the chair for all he was worth, not daring to move his flaming tail out of the direct flight path of the leather. The man listened to the gasps and the sobs of the little boy, but hardened his heart. This was only the start of what would be the most severe hiding that Ben had had to date. Like Hugo, Ben also received half a dozen good strokes with the strap, then, after a pause, was ordered up. He was allowed a few seconds to rub his sore behind, all modesty about his nudity forgotten then,
Back to the wall, Benjamin. Theres a lot more to come. Ben shuffled back to his position, reluctantly releasing his burning bottom, and replacing his hands on his head, Hugo, your turn again. Bend over.
With tears rolling down his cheeks, but not daring to question his punisher, Hugo returned to the chair, and slowly assumed the expected position. The headmaster took a moment to run a hand over the boys slender and very warm cheeks, then went to his desk. To Hugos horror, but not surprise, he put the strap down and hefted his cane.
Oh no, sir, sobbed the bent over little lad, please not the cane, sir.
The man ignored the begging of the boy. Hugo knew how sore a hiding with the cane was – his worst had been a sound six strokes on his bare little bottom. This was bound to be worse, as his already throbbing bottom proved. Every muscle in his slender frame stood out as he braced himself for the first lash of his thrashing, especially when he felt the tip of the stick being tapped on his terribly exposed, upraised little buttocks.
The headmaster took his time, making sure that the boy was completely ready for his first stroke. Then, using his best technique commenced the hiding. The cane connected with tightly bent boy flesh with the sharp sound like a gunshot, and Hugo sobbed, using all his will to control the plunging of his body. Last time he had had that excruciating six lashes, bare, he had sworn to himself that he would never be naughty again, but here he was, getting his naked young backside whipped again. Ben also jumped at the sound of the cane striking his friend. He knew that he would be next, and there was every chance that his hiding would be even worse.
Hugo sobbed and wailed, body plunging and wriggling as the headmaster slowly laid stripe after stripe down his small, tightly bent little bare cheeks. As he had with Digby earlier, the man was getting the strokes in as low as possible, where the boy would sit down. And then, to the preteens further dismay, he laid the seventh and eight strokes in a diagonal cross – the mans trademark for really good hidings. When, at last, the cane stopped its cruel work, and the boy was invited to stand, he did a spank dance that nearly caused the man to laugh out loud. The little boy was relieved it was over, and was waiting for his dismissal, when,
Back to the wall, my boy. Were not finished yet.
No! Please sir! the child wailed, still clutching his injured tail, Ive learnt my lesson, please, no more sir!
Do as youre told! the headmaster would not abide with the boys begging, and Hugo, wisely, let go of his bottom and assumed his position back next to Ben. The sight was pleasing to the eye of any disciplinarian. One little blond boy with a clearly well strapped backside – the redness of his bottom standing out against his white body. The other, more slender, boy with a well caned rear. The welts from the stick working down the lower half of his tender, sore bum, and of course, highlighted by the diagonal cross.
Ben, your turn for a caning. Bend over.
Ben didnt bother to try to plead for a reprieve. He had already seen that the punishment would be delivered, no matter what. Slowly, crying like Hugo had been before him, bent over the chairs, once again presenting his rounded, chubby and by now very red little bottom for further thrashing. The feel f the mans hand stroking his throbbing bum was pleasant, but was soon replaced by the familiar tapping of the tip of the stick on its target area. Ben, from lots of experience, knew that this was the prelude to the start of an excruciating hiding. He didnt have long to wait. The cane lashed down, the immediately, through the sharp agony of it, the preteen knew that sir was caning him harder than any other hiding that he had administered to the naughty ten year olds bare bottom. Naturally, a long pause was kept between strokes. Ben never understood that – he would rather have had his hiding laid on quickly. But the headmaster was determined that the little boy appreciate each lash, and fearfully await the next. Bens bottom plunged over the chair with every stroke, and the child sobbed pitifully. He had been thrashed often, but could never become immune to the absolute, breathtaking agony of the headmasters cane.
The headmaster followed exactly the same pattern for Bens hiding as he had for Hugos. Although he drew out Bens far more. He was very fond of the boy, but loved whipping his perfect little buttocks, and had decided to bring the boys attitude sharply into line with his cane. Ben had not watched Hugos hiding, so he didnt know that his friend had had the last two lashes of his eight placed diagonally on his bottom. therefore he didnt think to wonder why his own seventh and eight strokes were laid on straight, low on his tender bottom, before he was given the opportunity to get up and soothe his welted cheeks.
Back to the wall. When the command came, Ben wasnt surprised. He was already resigned to the fact that his punishment was far from over.
Hugo, come here and bend over. Lets get this over with now, my boy.
Yes sir, the little chap sobbed, crossing over to the chairs, and, for the third time, presenting his slender, very tender backside for whipping. The man caressed the welted, bruised little cheeks for a few moments, then, to Hugos relief, exchanged the cane once more for the strap. His relief was soon sharply tempered with the agony of the tawse landing on his already very well thrashed bottom, and the ten year old signalled his distress as the man slowly, thoroughly tanned his bum with the leather. Ten times the leather lit into the lads naked tail. The boy wailed and wiggled, but the headmaster would have none of that,
Keep still, boy, or shall I go back to the cane for you?
Hugo froze, and the hiding continued. Two more mighty strokes. Then the child was released.
Have you learn a lesson?
Oh yes sir! I promise to change my attitude sir! the crying boy sobbed, nodding his head while still clutching his injured backsed.
Very well, then. You may go.
Thank you for giving me a good hiding, sir, Hugo mumbled as he was ushered out the door, to dress and join his friends. Then the headmaster closed the door and turned to the remaining naked boy in his office. He admired the childs battered little bottom for while then ordered him back over the chair,
I am sick and tired of your poor school work and bad behaviour, Ben, the ten year old wisely said nothing, especially as he felt the tip of the cane, not the strap, once again tapping his poor, upraised cheeks, and so now Im going to give you another dose of my cane to try to sort you out.
With that, the cane was lifted, and quicker than the boy had expected, it snapped across his sore rear end, shooting its familiar agony across the lads bottom. The man was an expert at this element of his trade, accurately caning the preteen – never allowing lashes to cross each other as he thrashed the small, squirming bottom presented before him. Ben had had all the fight whipped out of him, his body plunging just slightly with each agonising stroke. It was like nothing he had ever experienced. His dad was a widower and a cold distant figure in his life. As the agony of his hiding seemed to eat right through him, he never once resented the headmaster. In fact his trust and faith in the man grew with each excruciating stroke of the cane, he never once questioned the fairness of his punishment. Even appearing naked for a hiding seemed right to the boy.
After six hefty lashes, the headmaster administered his trademark diagonal stripes to the well beaten little bottom before him, then ordered the sobbing boy up. To his utter surprise, Ben, still clutching his thrashed little cheeks with both hands, buried his head in the mans shirt for a few moments, until his crying had dropped down to loud sniffles. Then,
Thank you for giving me a really good hiding sir. I deserved it, and will do my best to do better. I promise.
I hope so Ben. Now off you go and get dressed.
The little boy left the office, and the headmaster returned the weapons of chastisement to his cupboard. Tomorrow he had two of the twelve year old prefects, and several eight and nine year old boys to deal with. Something to look forward to.
AUTHORS NOTE: I wish to make a series on Weeping Willow Prep School for Boys. Youve met five of the youngsters here. If you have any ideas, or new boys to add, do let me know. Tristan