"Now, Susie," the teacher, Miss Hampton, said, "stop that whispering."
The girl and her friend, Betty, giggled and both girls looked at the boy sitting across the aisle.
"Sanders," Miss Hamptons tone was now considerably sharper, "did you pass a note to Betty just now?"
"Er - no, Miss," Edward Sanders replied nervously. "It was Betty -"
"I dont want any excuses, Sanders. Come up here."
Eleven-year-old Edward slowly stood and walked to the front and up the dais where Miss Hampton was enthroned.
"I will have no playing in my classroom, is that understood, Sanders?"
"Y-yes, Miss," the boy muttered, already fingering the seat of his shorts.
"Take down your shorts and pants," Miss Hampton abruptly instructed the boy. Edward, with a quick, embarrassed glance at the girls sitting too close to the dais, lowered his shorts and pants to his ankles. "Across the desk, boy."
While the youngster reluctantly obeyed, Miss Hampton retrieved the cane that was leaning against a corner. She swished it through the air as she surveyed the the boys bare bottom. All the children in the classroom were staring at the same target.
"You will get eight, Sanders," the teacher announced with some satisfaction. "I hope that will teach you to behave in class. Next time itll be double."
She approached the bending boy and lightly tapped his buttocks with the cane tip, making the boy flinch in anticipation. She wanted to make the boy wait as it was her conviction that making a boy hang in suspense prior to a thorough beating was definitely salutary and increased the punishments effectiveness.
"I dont want to waste my time trying to teach you, while insolent little boys pay no attention and disrupt all the others. In the future, you will be a very studious little lad or well have to work on your backside some more."
Edward Sanders was shifting about, impatient to get this over, but Miss Hampton continued placidly.
"Naughty little boys in my class will have their behinds soundly caned and I want all you boys to keep this in mind for the future. You will now witness how I deal with pupils who misbehave, so pay close attention."
At last she positioned herself and raised the cane. Edward knew from painful past experience that Miss Hampton, who looked like a delicate, middle-aged lady, did not display any feminine weakness when wielding the cane. She struck the boys backsides with a ferocity that few of the masters exhibited. Miss Hampton was not particularly impressed when her strokes occasionally broke the boys skin. To her this was a natural consequence of properly punishing errant young boys.
Bringing back her right arm, and turning her shoulder to make a tennis pro proud, she lashed the rattan cane in a wide arc, arm extended, across the fold of the boys buttocks where they join the thighs. The cane practically lifted the cheek as it bit in deep.
Young Edward shrieked with the stinging, burning pain and squirmed on the desk surface. But he struggled hard to control his movements so as not to incur additional strokes. Miss Hampton liked her victims to lie quite still while absorbing each of her slashers across the bare bottom and was not averse to inflicting 2 or 3 extra strokes for what she considered overly emotional responses from the boy. Self-discipline was part and parcel of a boys overall discipline and was to be adhered to at all times, regardless of the pain being suffered.
She brought the second stroke down with a will and the boy grunted as he swallowed a scream. The cut had landed just a fraction below the first one and a double weal quickly rose and darkened. Another followed after a lengthy pause and landed a fraction above the first, thus widening the weal to almost 2 centimeters.
Miss Hampton slowly, deliberately, worked herself upwards. When the last stroke fell, it made its impact across the highest, most curved parts of the boys buttocks. The boy was now well-striped from mid bottom to the thighs. Edward had been writhing with the sharp pain during the punishment, but had forced himself to stay in position. He would have liked to protect his tender behind with his hands or twist out of the way of that terrible cane, but he knew better. He well remembered the first time he had tried that. Miss Hampton had simply announced that she would have to start the caning from the beginning. Although he had not always been successful preventing himself from reaching back when the pain became seemingly unbearable, he had definitely learned a valuable lesson. Just hold on to the far edge of the desk and dont let go, no matter how sharp the pain behind.
When it finally over and he was allowed to straighten up and replace his short trousers and underpants, the other children in the class saw his tear-stained face and twitching mouth, attesting to the efficacy of eight good, hard strokes of the cane across the naked buttocks.
Later that afternoon, there was another incidence. Ruth, aged twelve, threw a paper clip at the boy in front when she thought Miss Hampton wasnt looking. The boy had reciprocated but was a second too late. Miss Hampton had turned around and observed the little game. She was not amused.
"Ruth, dont you think that you should know better than throwing things when you are supposed to be following the lessons? And you, Sanders, I would have thought one caning a day was sufficient. Apparently not, so you will see the headmaster after lessons. I will ask him to notify your parents of your behaviour and recommend that they give you a sound thrashing on top of that the headmaster is going to give you."
Edwards face twitched and he shifted his tender backside on the hard seat. "Oh, please, Miss -" he started, but Miss Hampton would not listen.
"All right, class, back to work now."
The rest of the day passed with only one other boy having to bend for the cane for poor attention to his lessons. Then it was time for Edward to take Miss Hamptons note to the headmaster. He felt ill and his stomach cramped. His legs were weak at the knees and he could hardly lift his arm to knock on the feared study door.
When he heard the stern command to enter, he slipped into the large room and quietly closed the door behind him. He had been here many times before but he could never enter the room with equanimity. Only his first visit passed without having been caned. All subsequent encounters with the headmaster had invariably resulted in his having to present his bare bottom to receive anywhere from 6 to 18 strokes of the cane. And the headmaster was ferocious with the cane. Regardless of age, he seemed to employ the entire strength of his powerful right arm each time he brought the cane down on a boys exposed behind. After a headmaster beating, a boy could not sit down comfortably for a week and the weals remained for over two weeks.
All this passed through Edwards mind as he stood awaiting his fate. The headmaster was in no rush. He did not acknowledge the boys presence in any way but appeared deeply engrossed in some papers. It must have been close to 10 minutes before he looked up, his cold grey eyes fastening on the trembling little criminal in front of him.
"Well?" he snapped.
"I - I - er - brought this note," young Edward quavered, handing the slip of paper to the man across the desk. The headmaster took it and proceeded to study it attentively. It took him another 5 minutes before finally putting down the paper, open a desk drawer and remove a thick ledger.
"Lets have a look in our little Punishment Book," he said, adding after a small pause, "Ah, yes. Here we are. Sanders, Edward, age 11. Caned in class for disruption of studies. And that was earlier today! Cant behave, can you, boy?"
There was no good answer so the boy was silent.
"I see Miss Hampton gave you 8. I think I will make it 12 this time. Take your shorts and underpants down and bend over the chair. I would think you know the procedure by heart by know."
Indeed he did. The boy lowered his shorts and pants, stood behind the chair back and bent over, face in the seat, hands gripping the far edge. He spread his feet as wide as the small shorts allowed.
He waited fearfully, breathing quickly and trying not to think of the previous occasions he had been in this vulnerable position. Then he felt the cold cane tapping lightly against his bare bottom. He tensed and held his breath.
The headmaster studied the boys wealed bottom for a while. Yes, Miss Hampton knew how to cane. These welts were deep and purple. However, he knew better than to lighten the boys punishment because of a few stripes. Naughty little boys had to learn the hard way.
CRACK! Edward had expected this to hurt but nevertheless was still shocked at the intense burn the cane produced low on his buttocks. The tip buried itself in the fold of the right buttock, just above the thigh. Edward held on to the chair for dear life and tried to muffle his cry in the leather cushion of the chair seat. His small bottom jumped and quivered in protest of the violent attack. There was a pause and the boy felt the burning pain across his bottom grow ever more intense. Just when it began to subside, the second stroke whipped viciously into his buttocks, just above the first. This time Edward could not restrain himself and let out a roar. The cane had landed on one of Miss Hamptons stripes and the agony was terrific. Another pause as the pain sank in.
He tried to reach back once when the pain became too much to bear and thus the boy earned himself number 13. After that, Edward held on to the end. His bottom was deeply marked with new dark crimson lines that were turning purple and some excellent bruises well down on the underside of the cheeks where he would have to sit. Several welts also had appeared on the upper thighs which would show beneath the brief hems of his shorts and invite derision from the other boys and girls.
"Very well, Sanders," the headmaster said, replacing the cane. "you may pull up your shorts. Here is a note for your parents. I hope they will follow my advice and give you a good whipping later today or tomorrow. Or both." The headmaster laughed as he looked into the tear-stained face of the trembling youngster. "I hope this will be a lesson for you."
Edward, still sobbing noisily, drew up his shorts and pants, took the note and stalked slowly out of the room. Each step was painful but his mind was on the note clutched in his sweating palm. He knew what he could expect at home. His new father, who had enrolled him in this school, was on good terms with the headmaster and both agreed on the best way to rear boys. Regular, sound thrashings.