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In case you are new to these stories, here is a brief recap.
Roger Livingstone had cheated at university and submitted an essay which was not his. His tutor had given him the choice between official action, which would mean his immediate expulsion from university or getting himself thrashed by a relative or friend and returning to prove that it had been done. He had tried to find his uncle but had discovered that he was away. On the way back home, he accepted the offer of help from an older man, Roger Hill, who gave him his caning but also required that he went back for a second instalment. That occasion had rounded off his earliest encounter with corporal punishment with a heavy strap, a tawse and a final few with a cane.
Later he used the same story again, this time to get a caning from Harold Furness, who had been in the Royal Navy and had both experienced and dished out canings there. Things developed even further when he met Russell Omerod who introduced Roger to his old headmaster who birched him. Russell also uncovered Roger's desire for caning when he realised that his story was not true. This enabled him to lead him on to other experiences as well.
Russell had also introduced Roger to his cousin, Basil Chapman. He had set up a visit for Roger to his own old school where he had had a very effective caning from Mr Lovell, the Gym Master. He was also required to go for more and that turned out to be a walloping with a variety of weapons from the entire set of prefects.
After that, he and Russell got completely drunk. They were punished for this by Basil who also agreed to give either of them thrashings when they deserved it. Later, when staying with Basil, Roger made his own arrangements with another local school, Bournville Hill, before another session in bed with Basil. Basil also suggested that Roger should have a cane available in case he met someone willing to do it but not equipped. This had paid off when he found a stranger willing to give him not one but two good canings.
Now read on.
Time moved on. Roger collected his degree and started his research. It was then that the complications started. Like many other research students, Roger was helping undergraduates in some of their work. By an incredible coincidence, there was one who recognised him. Ian Bacon had been the prefect who had talked with him at his traditional walloping. Roger knew that he must have recognised him. They had spoken and he knew his name. After an early session together, Roger said, "Have you got time for a coffee?"
"Sure. Where?"
"The coffee bar seems to be as good a place as any."
Ian grinned. "I'm new. I didn't know if research people had somewhere else to go."
"Sorry. Come on. I'll treat you."
They sat away from most people. Roger said, "You were probably surprised to see me here."
"I was. I don't know why. We didn't know what you do and a student can get into trouble just as well as anybody else."
"I thought we should have a brief word, just so that there wasn't something hanging between us. We'll be seeing quite a lot of each other this year."
"Thanks. I don't want to know what you did. If you're thinking of telling me. That's the way we did things at school. If you were whacked for something, it was as good as forgotten. At least, it was if you took the whacking well. Horner never forgot the whacking he got and we never forgot it either. He was always a pain."
"Where's he gone?"
"Into Daddy's firm. He wasn't going to university if he couldn't get into Oxford or Cambridge and there was no way he was going to do that."
Half way through the term, Edward Westwood, Roger's supervisor and the tutor who had encouraged him to stay on, called Roger into his office.
"Sit down. What do you think of this?" He threw a bundle of papers over to him.
Roger looked at the top. It was an essay by Ian Bacon. He read it and said, "It stinks. What's he playing at?"
"Can you be more precise?"
"Well, he might have rushed it off, but it's well below his standard and it's not even consistent with the views he's expressed before."
Edward threw a publication over and said, "Now look at this."
A glance was enough. Ian had repeated Roger's offence of several years ago.
"Why are you showing me this?"
"Dr Isherwood suggested that you might have a suggestion about how this might be dealt with."
"In that case, I'll have to come clean. I assume that he will be happy for you to know the risk he took for me. I did something similar once. Not quite as blatantly. It was only part of an essay but it was a straight crib."
"And what did he do?"
"Two things. He said that I would have to do the essay again and that I ought to be punished."
"What did he mean by that?"
"That I ought to have a severe thrashing."
"He'd never do that. He couldn't with his heart. I know it was dodgy even then."
"I know. He said I had to get it done and then go back to satisfy him that it had been. He wasn't being dirty or anything like that. It was simply the way he was brought up. I don't think he could cope with the idea of someone being what he called let off. He said it wasn't even fair to the person concerned. Let him off and he not only gets away with that. He'll do the same or worse and be even deeper in the mire."
"I think I agree with him."
"What about? The need for punishment or that corporal punishment is often the best?"
"Both, actually. Like him, it was the way I was brought up. What do we do with young Bacon, though? Even though I think Dr Isherwood is right, and I'm sure he was in finding a way out with you, I don't think I could face actually telling him to get caned. I certainly couldn't do it and I haven't got the reason Dr Isherwood had to tell you to arrange to get it done."
Roger said, "You want it off the record, don't you?"
"Yes, providing he's going to learn and not get away with it."
"Have you registered receiving it?"
"No. Paperwork isn't my forte."
"Good. If you give it to me, we can work on the basis that I've got hold of it. I'll tell him what's happened, of course, but off the record. Then I can give him the same choice that I had. I know enough about him to know that I can admit that I had the same choice. He can choose between getting it done at his old school or my doing it for him. As well as that, he can stick a letter in to you, apologising for the delay in getting his essay in and asking for an extension."
"Thanks, Roger. We'll try that if you don't mind."
"Can I have the essay and the article he cribbed, please? They'll be useful in discussing it with him. Obviously, he doesn't get the essay back unless or until he's been punished. You'll want the evidence in case it has to go official."
"I think I'd prefer you to lose it! Having to do that to someone is something I've dreaded ever since I got this job."
"Edward, I hope you don't mind my saying so, but you've got to face it. If somebody as bright as Ian Bacon gets away with that now, the next time he might do it could be in a Ph. D. thesis."
"I know. Thank you for telling me your dark secret and suggesting a cleaner way out."
Now, Roger had to find a way to have a private discussion with Ian Bacon, and he had to do it fairly quickly. He left Edward Westwood's office and went in search of the undergraduate. He found him in a coffee bar and took him to one side.
"Are you doing anything tonight?"
"Not especially. Why?"
"Something urgent and important has come up and it affects you crucially. We ought to talk about it. Would you like to come round to my flat for a meal tonight? Say seven o'clock?"
"So long as it's not too much. I'm in hall and I'm eating far too much. I'll be like a balloon if I'm not careful and I can't resist food."
"It'll be scrambled egg or beans on toast, or something like that. I'm self catering."
"That'll be great. Thanks, Roger."
That evening they met. Over the meal, Roger said, "Do you remember when we first met?"
"I'll never forget it."
"I think the time has come to tell you more about it."
"You don't have to, Roger."
"I think I do, now. I had got into trouble here. I'd found an article in some little known publication which related to an essay I was writing for Dr Isherwood. I cribbed that article and handed it in as part of my essay. Fortunately, Dr Isherwood spotted it."
"Fortunately?"
"Yes. It was fortunate that it was him. Many another person would simply have said that plagiarism was one of the cardinal academic sins and I would have been out on my ear. Instead, he saw me, went through the consequences of its coming out and then he gave me a choice."
"What? Doing the essay again?"
"No. Well, not just that. He could see, as I think you will if you think about it, that it's not even fair to the person concerned to let them off if they've done something serious wrong. They'll just decide that they've got away with it and try the same thing or even worse next time. I don't know whether you had any masters who were regularly letting boys off. If you did, you'll know that they weren't respected and that behaviour in their classes got worse and worse."
"We had some like that but the school seemed to get rid of them quite quickly."
"Right. Dr Isherwood gave me a choice. Either have what I'd done dealt with officially or get myself caned and go back able to satisfy him that it had been done."
"What did you do?"
"You know what I did. I happened to know an old boy from your school. He took me to see your headmaster and he arranged for Mr Lovell to cane me. Then he arranged the session you were involved in because there was more than the basic offence involved. I would have brought disgrace on my family, my friends and my old school. We had the advantage that he needed someone to demonstrate the tradition as well. It was obviously better to take part than simply have it described to you."
"Why are you telling me all this?"
By this time, they had finished the snack apart from coffee.
"Let's sit over here with our coffee, Ian."
They sat facing each other. Roger said, "You know why I'm telling you, don't you?"
"No."
"What about this, Ian."
He passed over the article he had copied.
"Well?"
"I'm finished, aren't I?"
"Have you been listening to what I told you?"
"Do you mean that I'm getting the same choice?"
"This is absolutely off the record, just as what I've been telling you so far is. When Dr Westwood recognised what had happened, he consulted Dr Isherwood. He suggested that he discussed the matter with me. Dr Westwood had known nothing of my problem, of course. I had to explain. He would prefer it if we can sort it unofficially. If we do, then what will happen is that I will extract your essay from his office. You will write, apologising that you have been unable to get it in and asking for an extension and then you will do it properly. In the meantime, you will have an appropriate thrashing."
"Should I telephone Mr Churms and ask if he can arrange for Mr Lovell to cane me?"
"You could. Alternatively, if you want to keep it even quieter, I could give you the caning. I couldn't manage Mr Lovell's power but we could have more strokes to balance that."
"Would you mind doing it, Roger?"
"No. In a way, it would be paying back the debt I owe for its being done for me. As you were one of those people, that makes it even fairer."
Ian looked at his watch. "It's not eight o'clock yet. If I cycle back to Hall, I could get my gym kit. I'd feel better being caned in that, if you don't mind. I brought it for old time's sake, really. I don't use it now. Then I could have my caning tonight. I could write the letter to Dr Westwood when I get back and get down to the essay tomorrow. Is that all right as a start?"
"A start?"
"Yes. You had a walloping for letting your family and school down as well. I ought to have that. Have you got a strap or a tawse?"
"I don't think so. A friend brought one over from his home when his father was using it too much, but he's taken it back."
"OK. I could bring mine across and you can use that."
"Yours?"
"Yes. My father hardly ever uses it but I've always known it was there and he jokingly said I should bring it as a reminder of what I'd get if I made a mess of things. I did."
"Fair enough, Ian. You'd better go or it'll be getting fairly late. Do you want me to follow in the car and bring you back? Your bottom will be a bit sore for cycling?"
"I shouldn't put you out. It'll be my own fault. I'm lucky to be getting a chance."
"That's all right. I'll follow you over. I'll wait outside the front door of your hall."
Roger telephoned Edward Westwood at home and told him that Ian had accepted the unofficial way out and that the essay was going to be able to be returned that night. Then he got the car out and drove over the Ian's hall of residence. He waited outside until Ian appeared and took him back.
Roger's parents were away again and he knew that Basil would be out until late. They would not be disturbed or disturb anyone. Ian was sent to Roger's bedroom to change. Soon, he appeared in his white gym kit.
Roger had been considering the best position for him to be. It had to be stable. It had to be somewhere where he could hang on. The two possibilities that came to mind were over a table or over the back of an easy chair or hanging on over the back of a wooden one. He remembered how much effort it had taken to get out of that position on a settee when he had been caned by Colin.
He said, "Lie over the back of that chair."
Ian worked out immediately what was needed. He draped his form over the chair with his head well down.
Roger looked at the shapely bottom, held by the thin gym shorts and waiting for his attention. He took the cane and aimed carefully. He took it back and then drove it hard across Ian's seat. He heard Ian gasp as the cane forced down into the taut muscles. He could imagine that first surge of pain and he found being in this position as stimulating as bent over receiving it. He was well aware of the throbbing excitement in his trousers.
CRRACKK! He drove it in a second time. Both from his experience in receiving it and also the lesson he had witnessed in Bournville Hill when a house master had been given some training. He settled down into a rhythm allowing about twelve seconds between each crashing stroke.
CRRACKK!
CRRACKK!
CRRACKK!
CRRACKK!
CRRACKK!
That was six. Another six followed. He paused a little longer and heard Ian say, "You can't be stopping yet. You had twelve from Mr Lovell. That must be at least two dozen of these."
Roger would have been content with eighteen but decided that Ian would feel better if it was done in a way he felt was fair and right. He said, "I was just giving you a short break."
"Thanks. I might have squawked if you'd just gone on, but I'm glad you're doing it properly."
Roger returned to his task.
CRRACKK!
CRRACKK!
CRRACKK!
CRRACKK!
The routine was well established. Eighteen was reached and passed and then twenty. Two dozen. Ian had said at least two dozen.
Roger took the cane right back for one final stroke. He struck along a line two or three previous strokes had gone, across the join of legs and buttocks. He drove it in with more power than any previous one. Ian gasped loudly. It was almost a shout.
Roger stepped back and said, "That's it, Ian. It's enough to clear the account. I know you didn't need all that to teach you it was wrong."
Ian stood, grasped his bottom and gently moved his fingers over the damage Roger had inflicted.
He said, "I knew it was wrong before I did it and I knew how wrong when you explained but I do feel better for that. Thank you."
There was one more thing that Roger might be able to do for Ian.
"As a matter of interest, if you'd been given that by somebody last year, what would have happened then?"
Ian grinned and said, "I assumed that was why you and Basil Chapman went off together."
"Will it help you in your readmission to the human race and learning that it's cleared up if we did something of that sort now?"
"I'll say! Would you mind?"
"Not at all. Come on."
They retired to the bedroom. Ian ripped his vest, shoes and socks, shorts and jockstrap off.
"It's longing for something to happen."
"Onto the bed."
Roger's being dressed gave him a reason to delay the rest. After a minor manipulation, Ian's penis was deep in Roger's mouth. He was so excited that it did not take long before he came and his body relaxed as it only can after a massive orgasm.
Roger eased himself away, undressed himself and Ian said, "Do you want me to do the same for you?"
"I think you'll prefer this, Ian. Lie on your front over the end of the bed."
"If it's what I think it is, that'll be great."
Roger took the loob and inserted it, gently lubricating him. Then he slipped a condom on and went in. Ian had clearly done it before. He was relaxed about the entry. Indeed, Roger almost felt that he was being welcomed in. He drove deeper and deeper into his body until, finally, he also came. Then he lay for a few moments, savouring the peace and the warmth of Ian's striped and bruised buttocks.
They dressed. Ian said, "Thanks for the caning and for that. It's odd in a way. Some people might think that it undid what the caning does but it was like you said. You have the caning to clear whatever it was up and then that helps you to know it has been cleared."
Just over a week later, Ian was back. This time he brought his father's tawse, a fairly heavy, three tailed weapon.
Roger said, "You proposed this. Remember?"
"Well, I remembered that we'd done it for you because of this."
"Yes, but you aren't getting that much. Part of what I was doing then was using it to thank the school for helping me. Better would be for me to give you what you think your father would have given you."
"I'm not sure. I suppose it would be something like a dozen or perhaps eighteen, then."
"That will be enough, then."
"Do you think we could finish like we did last time, please?"
Roger said, "Will it detract from the idea of punishment if I get partly undressed?"
"No. Do you mind if I don't have anything on. At home, it would have been bare bottom but I'd have had my shirt on."
"Fair enough."
Roger asked, "Will the bedroom be OK?"
"That's where my Dad would have done it."
Ian gave Roger the tawse and said, "You will do it well, won't you?"
"I did last time, didn't I?"
Ian put his hands to his read, grinned wryly and said, "Yes."
Roger led the way to the bedroom. They both started to undress. Roger ended wearing only his Y-Fronts, saying, "I'll need a bit of support until I've finished with the tawse."
Ian replied, "You didn't really look a me last time. You'd think I was wearing them as well!"
He was right. His naked body was brown apart from the narrow strip which had been covered, on the beach, by his swimming trunks.
He moved onto the bed and put himself in the position Roger had adopted on occasions. Head right down and kneeling with an excellent target being offered.
Roger said, "It certainly indicates the target. Stand by, I'm starting!"
He took the tawse right back and smashed it into the waiting spheres. Almost immediately, he moved into a clear rhythm.
SPPLATT! SPPLATT! SPPLATT! SPPLATT! SPPLATT! SPPLATT!
Six good swipes, a brief pause while Ian recovered and Roger admired the deepening pink and then again.
SPPLATT! SPPLATT! SPPLATT! SPPLATT! SPPLATT! SPPLATT!
Another pause and then, SPPLATT! SPPLATT! SPPLATT! SPPLATT! SPPLATT! SPPLATT!
Roger felt that eighteen, the higher of the figures Ian had suggested would be right.
He slipped his Y-Fronts off and moved onto the bed with Ian.
Ian was ready again, first for his relief and then to enjoy Roger's probing thrusts.
Roger decided that justice had been done but did not know how Dr Edward Westwood would react if you knew the whole story.
Later, after Roger and Ian had enjoyed a snack, by coincidence, Basil Chapman called in. Roger had warned him that the school visit had become the occasion when his problem was actually put right. He also knew of Ian's problem but Ian did not know that he knew.
He joined them at the table, pouring himself a coffee.
Ian said, "Do you remember when you brought Roger to school?"
"I'd hardly forget it."
"I'm afraid I boobed and Roger's done the same for me."
Basil said, "That's one of the problems about university. You get used to discipline in school. Even if it's a good school, like ours, and you're encouraged to discipline yourself, there are still people watching."
Ian said, "It's not just that, either. If you do something wrong, it really does help to have a caning or something like that."
Basil said, "I'm sure he won't mind my mentioning it. If Roger does something wrong and I find out, I'll cane him unless it has either become official or is going to. He'll get less if he owns up before he knows that I know."
Ian said, "Could you do that for me, please, Roger? I know I had three years in the sixth form, but I think I still need some of that sort of support."
"If you want me to. Only on one condition."
"What's that?"
"That you're going to be absolutely honest about things. Not avoiding punishment and not talking it up, either."
"That's obvious. If you want a caning for fun, you come into the open about it. Some of us did that at school. It hurt as much but it wasn't the same as a caning as a punishment. The fun in bed was different as well. If it was after a punishment, if was comfort and putting the past behind, if you know what I mean. If the caning was fun, the bed time was as well."
To be continued.