Mr Appleyard 3


by Mr Hickson

For the whole of their school lives the prefects at Dartmoor College had been used to a regime of constant, but not actually very serious, corporal punishment. All of them – even Pattinson – could remember periods when they had been beaten two or three times a week. Mostly it had been with a cane; occasionally with a gymshoe. Some of them had been caned on the bare bottom: Sawyer on more than ten occasions. But none of these beatings had seemed much like a punishment, more like a game they played with authority. Now they had changed sides, but the game was going to be played in the same old way, and only Clemence had never caned a boys naked backside.

But now things looked very different. For the first time ever after a serious beating none of them asked Johnson to show them his stripes. They had seen what had been done to him and were scared. Johnson himself had cautiously crept out of bed that night and examined himself in the mirror. It was a shocking sight. Briefly, he had sobbed into his pillow, but more for the shame he felt at his offence than the still quite strong pain of Mr Appleyards whipping. Now, the word whipping didnt seem so inappropriate. He had been whipped, and for the first time since he had come to a school where he could be whacked, the cane seemed a serious implement of punishment – one to be very afraid of.

They met in their common room while Pattinson was in conference with Mr Appleyard. Johnson stood by the mantelpiece: he had experimented with sitting down and it could be done all right, but not without discomfort. The others sat round the table. None of them wanted to mention the shocking scene of last evening.

"Has anyone tried using a slipper?" began Woodman.

"Yes. I have," said Clemence. "It works pretty well. You can make a good sting if theyre not wearing much."

"Bet youve never made a lad yell, though," said Sawyer. "Not like you can with a cane."

"Well, but I havent done it very hard," said Clemence.

"It cant be as effective, can it?" Sawyer demanded.

"But good enough, Id have thought," said Johnson. "If you have a big enough slipper and lay it on hard enough."

"The only times Ive had it I thought it was pathetic, a waste of time," said Sawyer.

"Well have to experiment," said Woodman. "Ill give somebody one-for-one."

"All right," said Sawyer. "Is there a slipper in here anywhere?"

They found one under a sofa. One-for-one was a game they had played when they were eleven, when they first came to the college, before they got used to being whacked.

Sawyer went first. He touched his toes in front of the fireplace. Woodman took the slipper and rather awkwardly turned his friend until he thought his bottom was angled so that he got the best possible swing. He stepped back and launched himself into the whack and the sole of the slipper made a loud bang against the taut trouser seat. Sawyer didnt react except to stand up and briefly rub himself.

Woodman handed over the slipper and took his place. Sawyer put as much into the whack as he could and Woodman too rubbed himself when he stood up.

"Well," said Sawyer. "It hurt more than I expected. I suppose if you handed out six it would hurt quite a lot."

"And this is only a size 9," said Clemence. "If we had a bigger slipper and one with a good thick sole itd hurt more."

"Also," said Johnson, "he never said we couldnt whack boys in pyjamas or gym shorts or something. Your trousers are the biggest thing thats padding your bums."

"What we need is a size 12 or something," said Sawyer, "and – hey what about those Dunlop Green Flash ones? I bet that itd sting."

"Yes," said Woodman. "Ive got a pair, but Im only size 8. Whos got the biggest feet?"

"Im size 10," said Johnson, "but Ive only got a light pair."

"Ive had an idea," said Clemence. "If we clubbed together we could buy a pair of Green Flashes, the biggest we can get, and then we could keep them just for whacking."

"I still dont reckon its fair that Patters gets to keep his cane, when we cant," said Sawyer.

Just then Pattinson arrived from his conference with the head, and he had heard Sawyers words.

"Actually," he said. "I agree. But the old man insists that I keep it. But I reckon you can punish a boy just as well with a slipper. My father always used one and I can tell you it hurts like _f_u_c_k_ when he gets going. And hes never done it with nothing on either."

Three days later, all was ready. The new Penal Code, as it was grandly titled, was written up and displayed on the notice board. Pattinson and Woodman had taken the bus into Okehampton and bought the largest pair of Green Flash gymshoes they could find – a monster size 13. All except Johnson, whose backside was still tender, had played one-for-one, over trousers and with only pants on. Sawyer had allowed Pattinson to give him six of the best with only his gym shorts for protection and conceded finally that it could be nearly as bad as a caning. They all inspected his meaty arse and were surprised at the size and darkness of the bruise, but astonished by the small smudge of blood that the whacking had produced where the tip of the slipper had caught him on the inward curve of his right buttock.

They had discussed a tariff of punishments. Only Pattinson would award more than six, and the others would only give six in extreme circumstances. Three would be the standard, with four or six kept for more serious matters or repeat offences. Mr Appleyard was consulted and gave his approval – though he didnt know about the Green Flashes, or the experiments that had been going on in the prefects common room.

They had visited each of the dormitories and explained the new system and answered questions. The most frequently asked questions were: Can we be whacked with just our pants on? and Will Madman Donnelly still be allowed to whack our bare backsides?

Now, it was time to put it into action. The four under-prefects left Pattinson to his cocoa and set out on a tour of the dormitories. Talking after lights out had always been a whacking offence and was still good for three solid slaps of the slipper.

At the west end of the building the senior dorms were silent. Nothing doing there. Silently they walked down the long central corridor and entered the passage between the junior dorms. There was certainly no riot going on but someone was talking and that would be enough. It was coming from the third form dorm.

Woodman opened the door and went inside and as he did so Clemence switched on the light. "Who was talking in here?" Woodman demanded. They knew that the miscreants would own up straight away. That was the traditional way. Besides, if no-one owned up they would be within their rights to whack the whole dorm. "Get down to the washroom," Woodman said, and a few seconds later two small boys, Skinner and Davies, emerged from the dorm and trudged sadly down the steps to their doom.

The washroom was silent apart from a drip from one of the shower heads. The two boys stood surrounded by the prefects, looking slightly apprehensive.

"You were the ones talking?" Woodman asked.

"Yes, Woodman," they said.

"Then you get the slipper, dont you?"

"Yes, Woodman."

"Skinner, wait outside the door." The bigger of the two boys went out and closed the door.

Davies was positioned in front of the shower, where boys always stood for a whacking, and ordered to bend over. He was well used to the procedure and grasped his ankles, keeping his legs straight, offering up his bottom for the punishment. Johnson hoisted his pyjama jacket high over his back, leaving his slim buttocks a clear target. But the material of his trousers wasnt smooth and they wanted nothing to hinder the best possible results from the slipper. Johnson hooked his fingers inside the cord and pulled the cloth outwards leaving only an unruffled stretch of striped cloth moulded to the boys tight little backside.

Woodman took the first turn. He stood back almost as far as they had seen Mr Appleyard do, took careful aim and launched himself into the whack. It exploded against the boys backside, far louder than they had expected. Half a second later Davies shot upright and his hands clutched at his rear end. Sawyer, who had caned his bare bottom for him only last term, could hardly believe his eyes. All four prefects looked at each other. There could be no mistaking the genuineness of Daviess reaction, partly because he was a brave little lad who was well used to being beaten, but also because honour demanded that you take a whacking with as little sign of being hurt as possible.

Sawyer recovered first. "Get down again, Davies." Reluctantly, Davies grasped his ankles again. "And an extra whack for getting up."

Davies half rose again and looked over his shoulder. "Oh please. No more. Threes bad enough."

"You should have thought of that before you got up and squealed like a girl," said Sawyer.

"I never squealed," protested Davies, but he resigned himself to his fate and gripped his ankles again.

Clemence took the second whack, but now he didnt put quite so much gusto into it. The slipper exploded again and this time Davies wriggled, but he held his position. Johnson delivered the third, standing back only a step or two, but throwing the slipper with the weight of his arm and shoulder behind it. Davies squirmed, but still offered up his bottom for the terrible whacking.

Sawyer took the slipper for the last whack. He stood well back and hurled himself into the stroke. Davies gave a sharp little yell and shot upright again, his hands clutching at the intolerable pain.

"And thatll be another whack, wont it?" said Sawyer.

"Leave it, Robin," said Woodman. "Hes taken enough."

"No. Hes got to learn. Bend over again, Davies."

Davies slowly bent over, his hands still rubbing at his bottom, but then he lowered them and gripped his ankles once more.

"Are you going to stand up in the middle of a whacking again, Davies?"

"No, Sawyer. I promise."

"All right. This time Ill let you off. Get up."

The boy straightened thankfully and gripped his bottom again, his face twisted with the pain.

"Back to bed," Woodman ordered and Davies made his escape, still rubbing furiously at the seat of his trousers.

Skinner had heard everything that had happened to Davies even if he had not seen anything. His face was white when he entered to face the prefects. He went straight to the spot and touched his toes. His mother had decided that these old pyjamas would do just one more term, even though he had grown and they were worn almost threadbare in the seat. The jacket was pulled up clear of the trousers, and they were stretched tight over the solid muscles of his backside. On the point of each buttock the cloth was almost white.

Skinner had received more corporal punishment than any other boy in his form. His record for one week was five canings, of which two were on his bare bottom including one from Mr Langhorne, and a dose of the whacker from Madman. He believed, and so did the prefects, that he was the toughest boy in the junior forms.

Sawyer took the first whack and stood right back by the washbasins before he threw himself across the floor and launched the slipper at Skinners bum. It landed with an almighty CRACK! Skinner didnt make a sound but he reared up, hands clutching at the sudden fire that had invaded him, face contorted. Almost immediately he bent over again, but it was too late. The damage was done.

"An extra one for standing up," announced Woodman.

"Can I drop my trousers instead?" he asked, looking round over his shoulder. The prefects looked at each other. They were tempted, but the sight of Johnson being whipped was too vivid in their memories.

"Not a chance," said Woodman. "Three to come."

So Clemence, then Johnson and finally Woodman applied the slipper to the boys suffering backside and he limped back to bed, both hands massaging futilely at the horrible burning.

"Well, _f_u_c_k_ me," said Sawyer.

"No thanks," said Johnson. "Whod have thought that, eh?"

"Wed never have got that reaction with the cane."

"But it didnt seem that bad when we were testing it out."

"Maybe we just didnt do it so hard. Theres not much room to swing it in the common room."

"We need to test it out a bit more, I reckon."

"Right. Lets go to the gym. Theres plenty of room up there."

In the gym Woodman dropped his trousers and adopted the touching toes position. Sawyer stood back as far as he had done in the junior washroom, took aim and launched himself at his friends solid backside. There was a massive explosion of sound that echoed in the large empty room. And Woodman shot upright, his hands clutching at his buttocks. "_f_u_c_k_ing hell!" he shouted. Sawyer dropped his own trousers and offered his bottom for the slipper. Woodman repaid the whack with a tremendous stroke of his own. Sawyer didnt react as violently, but there could be no doubt how much it had hurt. When they compared the bruises, there could no longer be any doubt that the slipper, well applied was at least the equal of a cane for the punishing of naughty boys.

"We need to try it on a senior with his trousers on. See how much we can make that sting," said Johnson.

But it was three days before they got the chance. Word of Dorneys caning and the slippering of the two boys spread through the school, and it had never been so well-behaved.

There was widespread discussion of the Penal Code, and few boys wanted to quibble about the offences listed and the punishments they would attract. It seemed absolutely natural that bullying, theft, smoking and indecency should be punished only by Mr Appleyard. Likewise, misbehaviour after lights out, bad language, being out of bounds, gross insolence and the other listed offences could certainly only be dealt with by a slipper applied to the culprits bottom. There was even a sizeable minority opinion which thought that not making a guilty boy drop his pants was much too soft, no matter how much the slipper hurt.

Pole from the lower fifth was caught coming out of the small shop where it was known that cigarettes could be bought. Consequently it was out of bounds. He had no permission to be in town at all, let alone in Leggs. When he was made to empty his pockets on to the prefects room table there were no cigarettes, but that didnt mean that he was innocent. Woodman searched his locker and then his bedside drawer. This turned up a box of matches and a pack of banned playing cards – but still no cigarettes. Never mind. Going into Leggs, having matches and cards was more than enough.

"Go up to the gym and wait for me," instructed Sawyer. "Take your shoes off, and strip from the waist up."

They made him wait half an hour. Then Sawyer arrived carrying the slipper. The other prefects crept upstairs to the gym balcony from where they could observe the beating without being seen.

Pole was a dark-haired, olive-skinned boy. His shoulders were broad and his chest deep but his torso tapered to a slim waist. The muscles in his arms were strongly defined. He was shivering slightly, as the gym and the changing room where he had been waiting were never warm. Sawyer marched him into the gym and made him stand in the centre circle of the basketball markings.

"Checking for padding. Drop your trousers."

Pole did as he was told. He was wearing only a thin pair of summer pants that were white against the brown of his skin. His thighs were solid and well-muscled.

"Fine, thank you. Get dressed."

Pole pulled up his trousers and fastened them. Only last term Sawyer had caned him for smoking – eight strokes on his bare bottom. He thought this was going to be a let-off.

"Now face the back wall and bend over. Feet well apart and hold your ankles. Legs straight."

Pole obeyed, offering his lean and solidly muscled backside for the slipper. The watching prefects could see how stretched the cloth of his trousers was, revealing the shapeliness of his buttocks.

"Im going to give you three for going into town. Another three for the matches and cards. Therell be an extra one every time you stand up before I tell you to. Are you ready?"

"Yes." In the past hed have been whacked for the matches on their own – or for the cards. Six with a slipper – and not even with his trousers down – was a definite let-off. Maybe this new system wasnt so bad after all.

Sawyer applied the slipper as hard as he could. The watching prefects couldnt see any reaction from Pole apart from a gasp in the back of his throat as the first whack blasted into him. Two whacks later, Pole almost overbalanced and stood up, his hands rubbing at the seat of his trousers.

"One extra for standing up," Sawyer announced.

"Give me a break," pleaded Pole. "That thing _f_u_c_k_ing hurts."

"And thatll be another three for foul language."

"Thats not fair."

"All right. You can take a break after your first whacking. But you swore – and that means another whacking. You cant get out of it."

Pole resigned himself to his fate. He turned towards the far wall once more and bent over, bracing his legs apart and gripping his ankles firmly. "Four to come," said Sawyer, took aim and launched himself into the next whack.

The observers began to see why the Green Flash was so effective a weapon. It was big enough to cover almost the whole of Poles bum with every whack, so it landed on the same suffering area of flesh every time. And the weight of it drove the pain deep into the muscle. The sixth and seventh whack produced a low moan from Pole and when Sawyer told him to stand up he arched his back and massaged his backside in what was obviously a futile attempt to reduce the burning.

"Right. Youve got three to come. Back here after supper."

"Ill take it now," said Pole. "Get it over with."

"All right. If youre sure. Bend over then."

"Only – "

"What?"

"Couldnt you use a cane?"

"Im not allowed to, chum. Touch your toes."

Pole bent over and Sawyer delivered three more massive whacks of the slipper. There was no doubting the boys courage, but it clearly took all he had to remain in his tightly bending position and allow the prefect to beat him. But at last it was over. Prefect and boy shook hands and Pole was allowed to escape into the changing room.

The prefects met once more in their common room. They had reassessed the effectiveness of the slipper. Indeed, it now seemed too severe for many junior boys, for whom a smaller, lighter gymshoe would probably have a good enough effect.

That night they toured the washrooms as boys were bathing before going to bed. Skinner and Davies were bruised black and blue across the whole of the lower two thirds of their bottoms. When asked they said that sitting down had been really painful all day. An hour later in the senior washroom, Pole was showing off the even more serious bruises that the Green Flash had made. Well-punished without a doubt and deeply impressive to all the boys who saw him. He even claimed that he was still sore over six hours after his beating.


More stories by Mr Hickson