Derek was loitering in the hall outside the boys bathroom. It was recess and the bathroom was crowded. But it wasnt because there was no more room in there, ratherit was that he hated urinating in the presence of anyone else. Those urinals gave one no privacy and he usually used the stalls. But even then he preferred to enter the bathroom when it was completely empty. Today the form master had not allowed him to leave the classroom.
"Again? You are almost the only boy in the class who needs to go to the bathroom at all times. Its close to recess, so youll just have to wait. Youre not a baby anymore. Or is it that you also wet your bed at night?"
The class had burst into loud laughter and Dereks face had flushed a deep red.
"No, sir," he mumbled, twisting his fingers nervously around the hems of his shorts. "Its just that I need to go."
The master looked down on the obviously deeply flustered boy. "Perhaps you need better bladder control. When the bell rings, you will stay here and help me collect the papers. Then you can go. Wet your short, for all I care."
Another round of derisive laughter made the boys face a shade darker. He licked his lips but remained silent.
By the time he was allowed to leave, the bathroom was of course filled with boisterous boys fooling around, in no hurry to leave. He even tried another floor, although against the rules, but had no better luck there. So now he waited, hoping that it would soon gradually empty as the bell ending recess would soon ring. He crossed his bare legs and pressed his front firmly with both fists, bending slightly forward. He really had to go.
By the time he finally peeked into the bathroom to see whether it was safe for him to enter, the bell rang and he knew he would be late. He quickly rushed to the nearest stall (just in case some straggler still came in) and after some moments of difficulty due to his nervous tension, he was at last able to relieve himself. Then he rushed back to his classroom.
"Ah, here comes our weak bladder boy," the master mocked as the red-faced boy opened the door. "I hope everything came out all right?"
Loud laughter.
"Yes, sir," the boy squeaked, seating himself at his desk.
"Oh, no, not so quickly," the master said. "Come up here, boy. Tardiness is punished with the cane, as you might remember."
"But, sir," Derek whined, acutely aware of his reddening face and ears.
"Come here!" the schoolmaster roared, taking the cane from the corner where it was always kept at the ready. His class of 11 and 12-year-olds required continuous and vigourous use of this helpful implement.
Resigned to his fate, Derek squeezed out from his desk and stumbled towards the dais.
"Across the desk, boy," was the next order and the boy obeyed, gripping the far edge of the desk. The desk was wide enough for the boy to have to stretch out far, thereby straining his shorts across his small bottom, The master casually approached the boy and studied the proffered bottom. The thin shorts, of blue serge, was threadbare on the two spots where is buttocks pressed daily against the hard desk. The middle seam cut deeply in between the buttocks.
The master took hold of the shorts waistband in the back and hauled it up forcefully so that the seam cut even deeper and a sliver of bare buttocks appeared beneath the hems. Then he pulled the boys shirt out from under. Derek, all too aware that he wore no underpants, was deeply mortified by this position. He should have been used to it by now, after the many sessions he had experienced over that desk, but he never could accept this humiliation. He started to cry.
"Ill give you something to cry about," the master said. "I usually give six for being late to class, but in your case, today, I think Ill make an exception. Youll be happy to learn that your repeated visits to the little boys room awarded your bottom eight of the best. If you reach back or rise from your position, or move so much as an inch with either foot, I will start from number one. Remember that. Now count and thank me in the accepted manner."
There was a swish of the cane and a formidable stroke sliced into the bare portion of the little buttocks. The children in the class watched, fascinated, as a deep red line became visible almost immediately.
"One, sir. Thank you, sir," Derek gurgled as his bottom plunged comically.
The second stroke landed exactly on the same spot and Derek gasped with the searing pain. "Two, sir. Thank you, sir." His voice quivered and his knees bent.
"Well start again," the teacher announced calmly. "And this time you will keep your knees locked throughout. Understood?"
"Yes, sir," Derek wailed, quickly straightening his legs.
"And spread your feet wider, boy," the master continued. "You look much too comfortable over there. Mustnt allow you to fall asleep."
Giggles in the classroom.
Once again the cane sprang into action, landing across the weal on the exposed flesh and Derek cried out.
"Beginning to feel it, are you?" the teacher said. "Im waiting for your count. Next time you let me wait, Ill start again. Do you want that?"
"No, sir. Er - One, sir. Thank you, sir." The boys voice was hoarse. It was only the first official stroke and he was already in agony.
The next three strokes lashed across the upper thighs, much to Dereks despair. He barely managed to remain in position, bleating out the count and thankyou's.
"Half-way through," the teacher commented, flexing the cane and gazing at the welts across the boys bare flesh. "I hope this is teaching you to be punctual and visit the bathroom at the designated times, or over the desk with you again."
Gradually the strokes were delivered across the lower buttocks, some falling on the thin shorts that did not really mitigate the fierce pain, but the teacher obviously preferred to see the result of his efforts and he concentrated his considerable strength on the boys bare parts.
When it was finally over, and the room echoed with the boys last howl of agony, Derek was allowed to rise.
The schoolmaster replaced the cane, went back to his desk, and ran his hand over the surface still warm from the boys sweating body. He wrote out al note and handed it to Derek who stood waiting, his hands holding his throbbing behind.
"Here, take this note to your guardians. Perhaps they can teach you punctuality better than I. I suggested a really sound flogging. Im sure itll do you a world of good, boy. Now get back to your seat, sit down and dont move about."
The rest of the day was agony for him, sitting on the hard desk and not being allowed to visit the bathroom at any time until the bell rang at days end.
On his way home, Derek fingered the bare parts of his upper thighs. He had pulled his shorts down as much as they would go, but couldnt hide the thick cane marks. The brevity of the shorts his aunt and uncle had given him had always been a source of great shame. Others in school, and even strangers on the street or bus, had pointed, giggled and insulted him while Derek, close to tears, ran away and tried to hide.
He remembered the first day he went to live with his aunt and uncle. His parents had divorced and each had wanted to leave the boy to the other parent. Both had a career to pursue and places to visit. So when Dereks father suggested they place the little brat with his brother Brian Halsey, his wife had quickly agreed.
On that first day he had been given his new wardrobe and the shorts were the most alarming.
"But Aunt Mattie," he had cried, "I cant possibly go to school in shorts like these. They hardly cover my bottom. I need long trousers."
"What you need," his aunt had replied, "is a good whipping. Brian, give him six with the cane. Lets see if that will help him wear his clothes without this insolence."
"Thats a good idea," her husband had replied. "Take the shorts off since you dont seem to like them, and bend over."
Derek stood as if turned to stone. Take of his shorts? In front of these people who were practically strangers? Impossible. He was never forced to undress even in front of his parents for the last 4 or 5 years because they realised that the boy was unusually shy. And now he was to do just that now? No, he wouldnt.
"Im not going to say it again, my boy," his uncles voice became threatening. "If you dont drop your shorts and your pants this instance, I will double your dose. Im sure you wouldnt like it."
But Derek had been unable to comply. He went rigid and his mind went blank until his aunt gripped him firmly by the ear and dragged him roughly towards a heavy leather armchair. She pushed his upper body over the chair back and held him there. Although the boy had struggled with all his strength, he could not prevent his uncle from unbuttoning his shorts and pushing them, together with the pants, down to his ankles. Derek blubbed with humiliation and anger.
"Please hold the boy down, Mathilda. This boy is going to get a good round dozen on his naked buttocks and they are going to hurt, I can promise him that."
He went to a cupboard and opened the it when the doorbell rang.
"Oh, that must be the Parsons. I asked them to come over. Let them in, will you? Ill keep the boy in place." She pushed the boys face deep into the leather cushion as Uncle Brian went to the door and let in the guests, still holding the cane he had retrieved from the cupboard.
Greeting were exchanged and the Parsons were ushered into the living room.
"Hello, Mattie., Angie Parsons said. " This is our daughter Lena. Lena this is Mathilda and Brian Halsey. And who might this be?" She had of course immediately set her eyes on the bare bottom that was being displayed. "You seem to have your hands full." She laughed.
"This is our nephew Derek, eleven years of age and too big to be wearing shorts. So he is now without them."
Lena stepped closer and Derek, twisting his head around, gave a little moan when he say a girl of maybe 16 or 17 standing over him, inspecting him with a sneer on her face. His own face turned a dark crimson with utter embarrassment.
"Thats how dirty, little boys should always be handled," she said tartly. "I hope I am in time to witness a good thrashing."
Eric Parsons chuckled. "Now, Lena, behave yourself. You have just been introduced and you should at least ask whether you are permitted to watch. I see the boys has some stripes across his bottom. Has he just been punished?"
"No," Uncle Brian replied calmly, tapping his cane," these stripes are from yesterday. He didnt want to come inside the house. Wanted to stay with his parents. Cant understand why?" He chuckled. "You didnt know my brothers wife."
"And he is about to be punished again?" Angie Parsons inquired matter-of-factly.
"Yes, for refusing to wear his new clothes. Would you believe it? After we spent money so he could have clothes that are a bit more becoming than what he was wearing before."
"Very ungrateful, and very disrespectful," his wife added. "Now he is going to get twelve of the best and he will no longer have the privilege of underpants."
"Oh, please, Aunt Mattie, please ask them to go away," came the muffled sob from the seat cushion where she kept pressing his face.
"Be quiet or youll get more," his aunt replied. "If you had obeyed like a good boy, youd be given only six."
And as the visitors gather around the bare-bottomed boy who was now openly crying with shame, the cane began its work....