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It was a long time ago that I discovered the availability of CP pictures on the internet. More recently I have sought to write stories that might account for those pictures. I am fully aware that many of them come from a completely different background. Indeed in some cases I was already aware of that setting so please don't complain if you feel I've taken liberties. I intended to.
If the reader would like a copy of the picture for any stories in my "Inspired By Pictures" series, please drop me an email with a request and statement of which picture you need and I will try to send it. Many came from the now defunct site which was run for a long time by Johnny in Holland. These are in bitmap form and so are of fair size. I have tried changing them but always succeed in losing some quality and so I will send them as they are.
Picture Name: CANE
Neil MacCarthy, Roy Norris, Shaun Padley and Garry Jarvis went into the off licence. It was the third such call that evening. This time, it was Garry's turn to do what was needed. Neil and Roy went over to the counter and spent a great deal of time and effort deciding which flavours of crisps they would take. In the meantime, Roy had stood behind them and Garry had slipped a pack of lager into his bag. He picked up two loose cans and sauntered over to the others. Experience had taught them that going out without making a purchase was likely to cause alarm. Simply behaving normally was more likely to work.
"Come on, you lot. You should have decided by now."
He shoved them out of the way and presented his two loose cans. He paid for them and, amid much merriment, Neil bought a packet of hedgehog flavoured crisps. They went out and along the road.
Shaun said, "We've got it cracked. It's better paying for a couple. That way you get the reputation for being honest. With the Parker Street mob, it only needs one of them outside the door and she presses the bell. She's got three men in with her before they're even in."
The four youths were seventeen or eighteen. They were all out of work at the moment. They had drifted in and out of dead end jobs since leaving school. They had stuck together since they had started at their secondary school and regardless of who was employed they still went around together. Apart from any wages and the dole, they lived on stolen goods and much of their time was spent on what they regarded as fun. Now, they sat on a car park wall and started on another can of lager each. As they drank it, Roy said, "Let's move on."
The looked around and, still drinking, went into the middle of the car park. A vehicle was selected. Neil said, "It's your turn, Shaun."
They all put gloves on. Too many of their friends had been caught by leaving fingerprints behind and even a passenger could do that and so identify himself and his colleagues. Skilfully, Shaun forced the lock open and leaned in. The other doors were opened and all four got in. Only a few seconds later, the steering lock was off and the engine started. He set off. It was often only a half mile drive before they left the car. On this occasion he moved onto the road out of town and went down the bypass and back. In the dark, their empty lager cans went though the window. They would have fingerprints on them, but cans on the bypass would not be connected with a stolen car. They never kept a car long. To do so was to risk its being spotted by a patrol car after it had been reported as missing.
They pulled up on a double yellow line and got out. They looked round. The road was empty and no-one was looking. They closed the car doors, took their gloves off and went on their way.
They had discovered that they were much less likely to be in trouble if they did nothing that drew attention to themselves. They walked along the footpath to a bench. There they sat and shared the remaining stolen cans. This time, they finished them before deciding to have a little more excitement. Behind them was a multi-storey car park. They went in and climbed the stairs to the third floor. They were not many cars there and all were too conspicuous. Back to the stairs and up another flight. This time, there were several cars around with one ideally placed. The driver had reversed in, meaning that departure was easier. It was in a dark corner and there was no-one around at all. Even if someone did turn up, they were sheltered from immediate view by other vehicles. It would be child's play.
Roy said, "OK, Neil. It's you this time."
They were all expert operators. In almost no time, the door was open, Neil was inside and leaning over to unlock the other doors. It was at that point that they realised that that car was simply bait. The doors of an apparently unoccupied van opened. Another car switched its headlights on, flooding them with light. It was well planned, but not so well carried out, for the lights came on before the other three were inside the car and gave them the chance they took. They ran and they ran in different directions.
Only Neil was unable to get out before he was surrounded. He was taken out of the car and half thrown into the back of the adjacent van. The door was slammed closed and he heard the lock being closed.
He felt his surroundings. This was no ordinary van. Its sides were lined with steel. There was none of its structure accessible. The doors felt solid as well, with smooth surfaces. The lock was inaccessible. It was dark and it was uncomfortable. Neil was scared and he knew it.
Heaven only knew what might happen to him. A gang had caught him and it wasn 't the police. He knew their methods of arrest and these weren't them. It could a gang of vigilantes. It might be worse. For the time, all he could do was press against one side of the van with his feet and the other with his arms to try to stop himself being thrown around the van at each corner, bend or change of speed.
Eventually, it stopped. He heard the door being unlocked and a voice shouted out, "Lie flat on your face, feet towards the door."
Neil obeyed. The doors were opened and a blinding light flooded in.
He was dragged by his legs and he felt his feet pulled apart. They moved about eighteen inches and then he felt a bruising pain on each ankle as fetters were secured preventing further easy movement.
He was dragged farther to the door. His legs and thighs hung over the sill, his body still on the floor of the van. Quickly he found his wrists secured in handcuffs behind his back. Then he was dragged right out and stood up, the floodlight still dazzling him. He was led by one of his captors into a small room. There, he was thrown in and the door slammed.
A voice from a loud speaker said, "Sit down."
Neil obeyed.
The voice went on, "On the screen in front of you there is information. Read it carefully. There is a button on a flex behind you. Press that when you have understood what is on the screen."
Neil found the flex and button then he looked at the screen. Its blank form was filled by writing. Neil read:
"The Committee for the Adjustment of Negative Elements (CANE)
"The Committee has become sick and tired of the feeble attempts of the law to control the negative elements in our society. It believes that the withdrawal of serious caning from our schools was a retrograde step, though only one step in a long process of decline. The degeneration started many years earlier when the cane and the birch were no longer available to the bench to bring young malefactors to their senses."
Neil read that page and already had a suspicion of what was to come. In any case, he did understand it. He pressed the button. The writing on the screen was replaced by further words.
"Now that the law regards eighteen as being adult, anyone of eighteen or above can agree to accept our treatment. This is a theoretical option for no-one will know where any of our clients have gone to, even if they are missed and they are held in isolation until they do agree. In the unfortunate event of our capturing anyone who is below eighteen, we will ask their parents to agree to our punishment for them. We have never known this permission to be refused as usually parents are desperate for some improvement in the behaviour of their offspring."
Once again, Neil pressed the button when he had read it. Another screen-full appeared.
"Our methods are quite simple. The cane will be firmly applied to the unprotected buttocks of any offender until we are satisfied that he has been adequately punished. There will be additional punishment for any offender who does not co-operate completely with us and there is no way out for an offender until he has received the punishment we deem appropriate."
Once again, Neil pressed his button and once again, there was a change on the screen. This time it was in larger letters and read:
"If you are under eighteen years of age, we will need to consult one of your parents for permission to thrash you. If you lie about your age, you have no-one to blame but yourself. Press the button once if you have read this and require your parents to be consulted. Press twice if we are to move to the next stage."
Neil thought quickly. He was only seventeen but that was nearly eighteen and there was no point in his parents being asked. His mother was always complaining that his father did not belt him and so she would agree. Neil was realistic enough to know that his father had very little interest in him and would agree to anything this group asked. Clearly, it was either that this gang did not know his age or they were prepared to allow him to keep his family out of things. He pressed the button twice. In any case, he was under these people's power and there was no point in building in an extra delay. Soon after he had pressed the button, the screen changed again. Now it read:
"If you are prepared to co-operate completely in accepting your punishment, press the button twice. If you intend to resist, then press once. You will be given two minutes to consider your answer. Reply when the screen changes colour."
Neil considered his situation. He had really decided when he decided to keep his parents out of things. If these people, whoever they were, had decided to wallop his backside, there was _d_a_m_n_ all that he could do about it. He was in their control. A lack of co-operation would mean more. It was obvious that he would have to co-operate.
The moment the screen changed colour, he pressed his button twice.
The screen cleared and then refilled:
"You have said that you will co-operate fully. Press the button to confirm this. Do nothing if you do not intend to co-operate."
Again, he pressed the button.
The screen changed again.
"Stand up, face the wall behind you and remain still.
Neil obeyed. As he turned round he was aware of a brilliant light. He would be unable to see anything and would be painfully dazzled if he turned round. The door opened and he felt his anklets and then his handcuffs removed, The door closed. The light went out and a voice said, "Turn round and sit down."
He obeyed. On the screen he saw the words, "The door will soon be opened. When it does, go out and in through the open door to your next room. Obey the instructions in there. Press the button when you have understood this."
He pressed the button for the last time. Immediately, his door opened and he saw a narrow corridor. He went along it to the open door. Inside, to his surprise, the door closed behind him. He saw a notice on the wall that described the room as "The Preparation Room" and instructed him to strip completely and leave all his clothes tidily on the bench provided. When he was naked, he was to follow the route he found in front of him.
He had no choice. Reluctantly, Neil stripped. As he took his pants off and placed them on his other clothes the door opened. It was obvious that he was being watched closely.
He went through to find the corridor he had come down closed. He went a few feet down the newly exposed corridor and found himself facing a door labelled toilets. It was with relief that he saw that label. He knew that he was almost bursting. He went in and found a single lavatory bowl awaiting him. He emptied his bladder and came out. Now he was led to a room labelled, "Interview Room."
He went in and found himself facing a battery of bright lights. From behind them a voice said, "Sit down."
Neil sat down at a table. Blinking in the bright light, he could see a row of steel bars. Beyond them were the lights and barely visible behind them was a seated figure, almost invisible because of the lights and unreachable because of the bars.
It occurred to Neil that they took every care that a prisoner did not turn nasty, or, if he did, that he could do nothing that mattered.
The figure behind the lights said, "You will address me as 'Sir'."
Neil said, "Yes, sir. Could I ask something, please sir?"
"You can ask."
"Well, sir, I said that I would co-operate with you way back in that room with the screens. Can't you turn the lights down or, if you don't want me to see you, couldn't you give me a blindfold to put on? Those lights really hurt my eyes. It's obvious that you've got me stuck here and I've got to do what you want. I'd be a fool to try anything else and I'm not going to try to thump you or anything like that."
To Neil's surprise, the intensity of the lights was reduced.
The man beyond the steel grid said, "With all the people we've had in that chair, you're the first one to ask politely for them to be turned down. Now, have you worked out what happens here?"
Neil replied, "Yes, sir. That's what the screens said. You've caught me doing something wrong and you're going to arrange for me to get a good caning."
"What have you done?"
"You caught me trying to nick a car. Well, if it wasn't you who caught me, it was one of your mates."
"Anything else?"
"What do you mean?"
"Neil McCarthy, you know quite well what I mean. We've had our eye on you and your friends for some time. We know a lot of what you have got up to. For example, we know that you were drinking before you took that car. Furthermore, I told you to address me as 'Sir'."
"Anybody who could smell me would know that, sir."
"Yes, but anybody who could smell you wouldn't know that that drink was stolen, would they?"
"We paid for some of it and I didn't steal it, sir."
"You knew it was stolen and you've stolen it in the past. Isn't that so?"
Neil knew that he was cornered. He decided to accept his fate.
"Yes."
Yes, what?"
"Yes, sir."
"Right. We'll start with tonight. Go through the events of the evening, telling me of everything you have done wrong. Remember, you'll get at least double for anything we know of which you omit."
Neil considered. It seemed fairly clear that this lot knew something. It might not be much but he would get walloped for everything they knew about and they could probably guess a lot of the rest. It wasn't worth risking missing anything out.
He replied, "It started when we got together tonight."
"What time was that?"
"About half past six. Well, we messed about for a bit."
"Who's we?"
"Do I have to tell you? I know I'm for it. You've got me and I can't get out. I don't want to land my mates in trouble as well."
"Use their Christian names if you like. We know as much about them as we do about you. Remember that I knew your name. You didn't tell me what it is and say 'Sir' when you speak to me as well. I won't warn you about that again."
"Well, sir, there was me, Shaun, Garry and Roy. We've been mates ever since we were at school."
"Right, the four of you messed about for a bit. What does that mean?"
"We just messed about, sir. We walked a bit and we sat on a bench for a bit. We tried chatting some birds up but they thought they were too good for us. Then we went to get a drink."
"Where?"
"That was in Asda, sir."
"Did you pay for them?"
"Yes, sir. We always do in Asda. They've got security there with eyes like hawks. Besides, we'd got some money."
"It wasn't your money, was it?"
In panic, Neil replied, "If it wasn't I didn't know about it, sir. That's if you mean it was nicked. It was Shaun who'd got it. He's been doing some work so I expect it was part of his wages."
"What did you get there?"
"It was a pack of tins of lager, sir. That's six. We shared two of them and then we had one each."
"And then?"
"We nicked our first car, sir. Look, if you know all this, why do you want me to tell you?"
"I want you to admit what you've done. Now, where did you get this car? What happened to it?"
"We'd been sitting by the Asda car park and we saw this bloke come out of the car. We prefer to take blokes' cars, sir."
"Why?"
"It just doesn't seem right to take a woman's car. Not if you know it's one. It's different if it's a bloke and especially a bloke like that. He was right toffee nosed."
"So, what happened?"
"It wasn't Roy's turn, sir. It should have been Garry but Roy's the only one of us that can get into a Merc. At least, he's the only one who can get in without doing too much damage."
"Does that matter to you?"
"Of course it does, sir. We aren't amateurs. We take a pride in doing it properly. Besides, if you damage them, you make more noise and there's more chance of somebody seeing you taking it."
"So, what happened?"
"Well, sir, we got in and Roy started it. He'd just started it moving when the _f_u_c_k_ing things stopped."
"Cut that language out!"
"Sorry, sir. Well, it stopped and we were half way out of the parking slot and blocking the road. It was an immobiliser. He must have had it fitted. They aren't fitted as standard to that model. Well, we got out and scarpered fast."
"And then?"
"We looked around carefully and nobody had seen us. Well, sir, we waited a bit and then we looked for another bloke coming in. You know. It's not like most car parks. There's a lot of coming and going. Then another bloke came in. He was asking for it. He just left his car and it was like shelling peas. He didn't lock it and he left the key in the lock. I've known some people do that at home, but not in a town car park. Well, Garry took us off in that."
Neil continued to detail the whole of that evening's performance.
When that was complete, his questioner said, "I'll come clean with you. We missed you all for the previous two nights. Let's go back to what we can check on. The night before that."
Neil said, "Was that the night we got that van?"
"Yes."
"We didn't do much that night. We got that van and there were four boxes of drinks in it. We took them and sold some of them to mates. Then we drank the rest."
Almost the whole of the information Neil had given was unknown to the questioner but Neil was not to know this. He had enough to be certain that this was one of the young men that they wanted.
"Have you any questions?"
"I can't ask what I want to know without risking upsetting you, sir."
"Will it help if I accept that it's genuine question?"
"Yes, sir."
"OK. Ask."
"What do you people get out of whacking people's arses?"
"I'll accept it as a genuine question. In your place, I don't think you'd risk deliberate cheek. There are two things. One is the fact that people who misbehave should be punished and this seems to us to be the most straightforward punishment. Take yourself, for example. You've been caught. If we brought the police in, it would waste months or even years of your life and a criminal record would make it even more difficult for you to get a decent job and go straight. A good caning can bring you up with a jolt. You'll know you've been punished before we've done and we can make arrangements to help you go straight. The other thing is that we believe that the law went wrong when they stopped thrashing as a punishment and there are committees like ours in several cities and large towns of the country."
"What's going to happen to me, sir?"
"In your own phrase, you'll be getting your arse whacked, but that will have to wait. You've drunk too much to feel it properly tonight. We can't have you taking it under a partial anaesthetic, can we?"
This was obviously a rhetorical question and Neil said nothing. His interrogator went on, "We'll give you your deserts tomorrow. For now, you can go out and follow the corridor again. You'll find a form. Complete it, please. It makes certain that we've got your personal details right. Just one thing now, so that we can consider how many you get. You are eighteen, aren't you?"
Neil hesitated and then realised he was committed. "Yes, sir."
"Very well. Off you go. Don't worry about any noise. We have another couple who arrived earlier. They haven't been drinking and so we'll deal with them tonight."
Neil stood, turned round and went to the corridor. The route he had arrived by was now closed. He went on a few yards and found another open door. He went in and looked round. As he did, the door closed behind him and he heard it click locked.
It was sparsely furnished. There was a wooden bench alongside the wall. It had a thin mattress, a pillow and a small heap of blankets. It was obviously where he would sleep. There was also a chair and a small shelf or table projecting from the wall. Above it on the wall was a large notice. It proclaimed, "Read This", and an arrow pointed to papers on the table.
He sat down and took the first. It gave the routine for his temporary incarceration. The toilets were accessible but there was an arrangement to ensure that two occupants could not meet. A button near the door he had come through would open that door and provide access to the toilet if it and the corridor leading to it were unoccupied. He also discovered that he would be provided with a light supper and a breakfast.
When it was his turn for his beating, the door would open and the route to the beating chamber would be available. Fifteen minutes before that, a buzzer would inform him that he should prepare and he was advised to go to the toilets. He was also warned that, should he fail to do so, he would receive an additional beating if he made any mess during the punishment. That would be administered after he had cleaned up the mess he had made and also dealt with other chores they might choose to give him. A further buzzer would inform him of the time to report for his treatment.
Just as he read that, he heard a distant buzzer. That was followed by the sounds of several doors being opened and closed. A few minutes later, he heard a toilet flush and doors were moving again. Neil realised that the comparative quiet would probably be because the person outside would be naked, like himself. Bare feet make very little noise. Now there would be a pause while the unfortunate waited for the second buzzer.
Neil returned to the papers. They provided all he needed to know about his treatment at their hands and one went further. He started to read it but could not concentrate. He was waiting for the second buzzer. At last, it went. He heard a door opened and the slight sound that was probably a naked figure going past his door. A door closed and then there was silence for quite a long time. That was followed by a muffled crack of cane being struck heavily against flesh and a failed attempt to stifle a cry of pain. Neil counted the seconds. It was a full thirty seconds before the second blow fell.
He glanced down to what he could feel was happening. His naked state offered no cover for the erection that was developing. A third stroke happened after another thirty seconds. Neil realised that this organisation had a great deal of sophisticated equipment built into these premises and he wondered whether there was a closed circuit TV camera. Almost certainly there was although, as he looked round, he could not see one. He would have to try to keep his throbbing manhood quiet in one way or another.
Slowly the other man's caning went on. It stopped at twenty-five strokes and Neil was able to share his concentration between his throbbing member and the papers he had to read. He did not dare bring himself to a climax. He had nothing to catch his emissions and was afraid to make a mess. Then it occurred to him that he might be able to get to the toilet.
Holding one hand to provide privacy from any prying camera, he stood and crossed the room to the door. There, he pressed the button and waited. Very soon, there was a click as the lock opened. He was able to pull the door open and go though. The corridor had several closed doors and one at the end clearly labelled. He went down and in. He closed the door and sat down.
He knew he would have to have a pee before he could do anything else. The lager was still working through his system. Then he restored his erection and completed the work started by the unknown sufferer's caning. If there was a camera watching, that was just too bad. In case it was a microphone, he took some toilet paper and put it in the bowl before flushing and returning to his cell. As he passed the door, it closed. The click told him that he had been secured.
Another buzzer sound. This time nothing happened. Some time later, a second one. Neil assumed, quite correctly that it was the call to the other offender to go for his caning. It sounded as though the offender also thought that was the case.
"If you think I'm going down there to let you beat me black and blue you can _f_u_c_k_ing think again." His voice rang out clearly.
A reply came back immediately. It was broadcast through a loudspeaker.
"You know the options. You will present yourself for your beating. You can choose whether it is now, tomorrow or three weeks next Tuesday. Only we know where you are. Even you don't know that. No-one will rescue you. No-one can rescue you because anyone who might will have no idea where you are. You have to be punished and this defiance already means that you'll be here for a week. You are now due for more than we would give you in one visit and it takes a week before the bruises have subsided enough for a second session. We'll give you a few minutes to reconsider and then the first buzzer will go again."
"_f_u_c_k_ off! You'll never cane me!"
The loudspeaker replied, "We'll let your friend speak to you."
There was a pause, obviously while the recalcitrant character's mate was brought to a microphone.
"Don't be a fool, Bill. It's not worth it. I'll tell you that it's bloody hell while it's happening, but they've got you by the short and curlies. You 'll get it in the end and a _d_a_m_n_ed sight more if you keep on annoying them. They're right. Nobody knows where you are except them. I'm not going to the police to get them to search for you. I couldn't give them a clue about where we are except that it took about a quarter of an hour's driving to get here. That's a lot of space where we could be. Anyway, it's not worth it. I' d have to tell them what we've done and I'm not risking going inside. They wouldn't believe me if I told them about what happens here. You know that. When Charlie Jenkins tried to complain after he'd had a caning, they just told him that he should keep away from kinky gangs and if he didn't want to have his arse whacked, he shouldn't play their games."
"Please yourself, Duncan. They aren't _f_u_c_k_ing caning me."
"They will, Bill. It's just whether it's today, next week, next month or next year. It's like I said, they've got you and you'll get it in the end. Just think about it. The longer you put it off, the more you'll get for defying them."
There was a click, presumably as the microphone was switched off.
Soon afterwards, a buzzer sounded twice in Neil's cell. He recognised that it was the sign for his supper. He checked the instructions and went to his door which was now unlocked. On a wheeled trolley on a stack of shelves, there were two trays. One, he assumed was for the other candidate for the cane. Neil took his back to the cell. The door closed and clicked locked. Neil looked at what he had. A cup of cocoa and two digestive biscuits. It could have been worse! It might have been bread and water.
He sat down and went back to the papers. He went back to the one he had started reading before he had gone for his wank. It made suggestions for the improvement of his life and even offered a contact who ran a group to help young men who have made a mess of things and want to get straight. The final one was the form he had been told to complete. He filled it in.
A little later, the buzzer went again. Nothing happened and the second one was ignored. The other client would learn later. His friend, presumably, already had a bruised backside but was free.
Neil went to the bed, lay down and covered himself in the blankets. Sleep was not easily found. He alternated between imagining that cane beating his seat and wondering whether he ought to try to reform. Eventually the next morning arrived. Breakfast was collected in the same way as his supper had been. Now he knew that his time was approaching. He knew, too, that he was not going to make a fool of himself in the way that the other fellow had.
At long last, his buzzer went. Neil rose and found his cell door already unlocked. He went along the corridor to the toilets. The pee was easy and he was sure that his bladder was empty. He strained to clear his bowels but nothing happened. He could only assume that an earlier visit had shifted all there was to shift. Then it was back to his cell and the final wait.
Eventually that wait was over. The buzzer went again. Neil stood and took a deep breath. He went through his cell door and down the corridor. He hoped that this would be the last time. He went though the open door at the end.
As he went in, the door closed and he heard the familiar sound of the click of the lock. On the wall was a sign indicating his instructions. The first was the simple statement that he used his clothes as a uniform to try to show that he was a big fellow. He would now put on what was probably the most symbolic items of that clothing, his "bovver" boots.
They were there with his socks and he obeyed.
The next instruction was that he simply had to lie over a frame that was waiting to receive him. It stood, screwed onto a wooden plinth so that his own weight would help to keep it stable. One pair of legs was vertical and the others sloped at a steep angle. Neil realised that he had to lie over it with the vertical legs away from him. It was too close to the wall for the person with the cane to get a swing if he went on the other side.
As he lay there, he heard footsteps. Quickly, four men secured him. His legs were fastened to the sloping legs by straps at his ankles and knees. His wrists were secured by other straps that were, in turn, held by chains fastened to the board on which the frame stood. Finally, a strap that was fastened to the frame was taken round his waist. He could not move. Neil now knew that even if he changed his mind, there was no escape.
The men who had secured him moved away and he heard the approach of further footsteps. Whether this was one of the men who had fastened him or another one, he had no idea and he did not mind. He was fairly certain that this marked the approach of the man with the cane. He looked sideways and saw the weapon. It was no school cane, although Neil had never met one and had no comparison himself. What he knew was that that cane was heavy and supple and it would hurt like hell.
He felt his "executioner's" hands run over his naked backside. In some way that movement seemed to increase the expectation and even the sensitivity of the whole region. Then he felt the man check that the waist strap was tight enough. Neil saw his feet move away. They were placed apart, giving the operator a maximum of stability. He felt the cane rest across both cheeks of his naked seat. He could not prevent a shudder at the thought that it would soon return with power. It went away. Neil braced himself for the inevitable.
Instead, he heard a voice. It was the voice of his interviewer of the previous evening.
"Neil MacCarthy, you wasted almost your entire time at school. Since then you have rarely had a job and have never applied yourself properly to it when you have had one. That is your affair. If you want to waste your life you are at liberty to do so. Our affair concerns the fact that you have repeatedly stolen and repeatedly made a nuisance of yourself in stealing cars and other anti-social activities. This is your first time with us. What you have done could well earn you fifty strokes."
Neil gasped and said, "Not that many, please, sir."
"Silence! I said that it could well earn you that and if you think about it you will realise that I am right. It could easily be more for hundreds of offences that have caused countless pain and misery. From last night, you will realise that we don't give an excessive beating in a single session. If you are to have fifty strokes, we would split it and keep you here for a week between the sessions. Do you think that is fair?"
"What, sir? Splitting it or fifty whacks?"
"I was thinking of the fifty, but you can comment on both."
"I've never been caned, sir. I've no idea what it's like, but I suppose that whacks when you're already badly bruised would be a lot worse. I can't escape so if you did split it, it would be fair. I suppose that would have to mean that I'd have to be kept for a week, but I know there'd be no escape, sir. I'd promise to meet somewhere and be brought back for the second session."
"Is fifty strokes fair?"
"Like I said, sir, I've never been caned, but if you add up everything I've done wrong, say since my last birthday, that would be more than fifty things the police could have got me for if they had known. I couldn't say it was unfair to have a whack for each thing I've done."
"Good. You sound as though you're getting the idea. It's got to be enough to drive the point home and to hurt you. That's the idea. However, we can be moderate, on the understanding that next time, if there is one, you'll get the full works. You will receive fifteen strokes."
Neil nearly exclaimed a question asking whether that was all. Instead, he replied, "Thank you, sir."
He was now aware of the "executioner" taking aim again. Then there was a pause and suddenly a tremendous crash as the cane cut across the centre of his waiting, naked buttocks. Neil experienced a pain he had never experienced before. It flooded out from the line of contact and seemed to flood into every pore of his being. He thought felt every muscle in his body go into an involuntary spasm. His head went back and a gasp of sheer horror was forced from his lips.
Now he understood why there had been so long a pause between strokes. It would take every moment of that time to try to calm down and prepare for the next. CANE's intention, of course, was different. Without that long period between strokes there were two possibilities, both of which needed to be avoided, if that were possible. One was that the build up of pain might induce unconsciousness. As there would be no point in caning an unconscious figure, this would mean that the proceedings would be held up. The second reason was that, although the intensity of pain in an individual stroke might be increased by going quicker, the total punishment the offender would receive was increased if he was given adequate time to savour a stroke in its fullness before the next was driven in.
For Neil, the time for the second arrived. A second overwhelming surge of pain flowed from the blow. As he calmed down, Neil recognised that it was a parallel line about half an inch above the first stroke. Again, Neil struggled to calm down. He was now eighteen years old but the pain was so great that tears were forming in his eyes. He was forcing himself to breathe deeply to try to remain calm.
He realised that it was time for the third stroke. It was also parallel to the first and half an inch below it.
The agony continued. For Neil there was no choice. For his executioner, it was a display of skill. Six strokes fell, parallel to each other, laying a grid across his seat. It was a grid of deep, rich red, weals. Then he changed his attack. Four strokes were applied, parallel to each other but diagonally and so cutting the previous ones. The spectators could see specks of blood appearing at many of the intersections.
Neil was just managing to keep count. By now he was able to recognise that he had taken ten. There were still five to go. It was at this point that the executioner moved away. Neil could not believe that they were going to stop. He knew that the fifteen he had been sentenced to was merciful. He was right not to expect it. Another man moved up, but on the other side. Presumably he was left handed and could supplement the work of his colleague.
Another devastating crash. This time, it was again diagonal, but the change of operator meant that it was in the opposite direction from the first. Once again, Neil struggled to force himself to relax. He was determined not to break down or to scream, no matter how bad it was. Three strokes followed, all parallel and in the direction of this new diagonal. Neil now knew that there was only one stroke left. He forced himself to try to prepare for it. No preparation was possible. It avoided the entire area of criss-cross lines that now decorated the main area of his seat. Instead, this one was driven in with all the power the operator could manage. It struck exactly horizontally and exactly along the sensitive line that separates thigh from buttock.
This time, it was not a gasp that was forced from Neil's lips. It was almost a scream.
He was given a few seconds to relax and then his interrogator's voice said, "Well, done! That's all. Stay in position when you are released until the buzzer sounds. Then you can get up and follow the corridor through the open door."
Neil obeyed his instructions to the letter. In another room, he was able to massage his bruised seat. They had even thoughtfully provided a mirror for him to admire the skill with which his thrashing has been applied. His clothes were waiting and he took his boots off to get his pants and trousers on. Eventually, he was dressed.
A voice said, "We will arrange for your release in a few minutes. Is there anything you want to say?"
Neil had considered his situation during the sleepless night and it had been underlined when he was described before his caning. He almost surprised himself by his reply.
"Yes, sir. Thank you for what has happened here. I'll try to go straight now. Can you give me the details of the people who can help, please?"
"It will be in the van, for you."
A few minutes later, Neil was back in the van in which he had arrived. Not long after that he was being taken out in a dark corner of a multi-storey car park. He was blindfolded and told to remain like that until the van was clear.
Half an hour later, he was back in the small flat which was his home. The immersion heater went on and, as soon as he had hot water, Neil was soothing his bruises in it.
Next day, he arranged to meet the people he had been recommended. His life changed and he never looked back. As for Roy, Garry and Shaun, Garry and Shaun were caught three evenings later by the same people. They, too, got the message. Roy was not so lucky. He was picked up by the police and is still living a life of crime when he is free of legal custody.