Mr Appleyard 5


by Mr Creakle

It was at the second staff meeting of the term that Mr Appleyard brought up the subject of discipline. There had been no reason to discuss it earlier because the school was clearly an orderly place, with no major problems. He had observed that almost all classrooms had a cane prominently displayed – mostly hanging from a hook beside the blackboard – but he had no idea how often they were used, in what style, for what offences. He had been, a couple of times, to washrooms while boys were showering after games, and it had been clear from the mauve stripes across their bottoms that a good proportion of the boys had been caned recently.

He collected all the masters punishment books and examined them. Some caned very rarely; others every day. He was pleased to see that none caned boys on their hands, but the range of offences was wide and punishments inconsistent. He noticed that on the same day a boy called Potter in the fourth form had received three strokes for failing to complete his prep, closely followed in another lesson by a full six for accidentally splashing paint on the boy working next to him. He noticed also that the Latin master had caned the same boy – Neilson in the third form – three times during an hours lesson. He felt sure that Neilson had deserved this treatment, but there was something wrong somewhere if the boy had failed to learn from his first, or even his second, punishment.

"Gentlemen, I wish us to strive for a more equal and consistent punishment policy. Ive no wish to take away your canes. Indeed, I think there will be many occasions in all classrooms where a firm dose of corporal punishment will be just the thing. I am a great believer in the efficacy of a good thrashing and should you ever feel the need to send a miscreant to me, you can be sure that he wont be sitting down comfortably for the immediate future."

The assembled staff chortled appreciatively.

"But we must have a sense of proportion. If we cane a boy for making a translation error, what must we do if he is caught smoking? Or fighting? Or ragging after lights out? In those cases, of course, a beating is essential, but I cant believe that a boy will understand the ablative absolute any better because hes been caned. May I hear your views, please."

The discussion was kicked off by Mr Sharp, the mathematics teacher, a man feared for his canings. "I think you are right, sir, but only up to a point. For most boys a reprimand will often suffice. But there are others for whom nothing but frequent beatings will do. Take young Skinner, for instance. I have managed to get him to work lately, but only by regular caning, and I am convinced that there are a number of boys who will only work satisfactorily once they have felt the cane across their rear ends."

In fact, the last time Skinner had got through a maths lesson without six of the best from Sharpy was many months ago; and the same could be said of Ashwood in the lower-fifth and Scully in the fourth form.

"I agree that there are some scallywags who will always need a firm hand," offered Mr Lewis, the English teacher, "but I have found no difficulty in getting Skinner to work and I have not had to beat him so far. We seem to be dealing with a variety of difficulties across the school, and it may be that the headmaster is right in proposing a more consistent approach from all of us."

And so the discussion went the rounds of the staff room, with as many different views as there were men to offer them. No-one spoke outright against corporal punishment, even those men who had rarely, or in one case never, used it. But all of them sensed that the result of the discussion would be what the new headmaster wanted, and they waited to hear what that would be.

"Gentlemen, this is a system that I have seen work well in other schools and I would like us to introduce it here. Each boy will have a book in which you will record both good points, or red marks, and bad points, black marks. Each week there will be an accounting and any boy who has received three black marks will be whacked by a prefect. More than five blacks will earn a caning from the head prefect; and any boy foolish enough to accumulate more than eight will be coming my way.

"I propose that black marks should be given for poor work or minor acts of indiscipline. Red marks will be earned by good work, performing extra tasks – in fact any kind of meritorious behaviour or achievement. And I think we could offer a prize of a half holiday to the form which gains the most red marks each month.

"In addition to that I will insist that any instances of lateness, or truancy, or serious indiscipline of any kind should attract an immediate caning. Insist, mind you. We must all act together on this. And canings should also be recorded in the boys record book. I do not believe that the school suffers from serious misbehaviour but all of us must play our part in ensuring that that continues. Are there any questions, gentlemen?"

There werent. Next day in assembly the new system was explained and then the books were given out. They were a novelty at first, and first impressions amongst the boys were that it would all mean less swishing in lessons. This meant that it was immediately popular. More positively, it was good to be given reds when work was better than average. There seemed to be a lot of reds handed out. But then came the first blacks and their recipients immediately started to worry about the results of getting too many.

Sawyer had volunteered to go through the books that first week. He collected them all up during prep on Friday evening and studied them carefully. The only boys with more than two blacks were Luscombe and May in the fourth form and Neilson and Skinner in the third. Skinner had also been caned. In the prefects common room Sawyer and the others considered their actions.

Luscombe had four blacks, but he also had two reds. Did the reds cancel out blacks bringing him back below the safety line? Clements thought they should. Sawyer was strongly in favour of slippering him anyway: reds shouldnt cancel out blacks. It was undoubtedly true that reds were easier to get than blacks, and blacks certainly indicated something that merited punishment. Pattinson went to consult Mr Appleyard and came back with a good compromise.

Three reds would cancel out one black. Sawyer almost purred with satisfaction: Luscombe would get the slipper.

May had six blacks, but also six reds. He too would be slippered.

Neilson had three blacks and four reds. Safe for another week.

Skinner had four blacks and a caning, but two reds.

And then the question arose: What notice were they to take of the caning? Did they ignore it, or was it somehow added to the boys total of blacks? Again they were divided. Why should swishings be written in the record if they werent to take account of them? But the boy had been whacked already; that shouldnt add to the likelihood of him getting another. If a boy was caned under this system it was obviously serious, so another whacking was probably what he deserved. But some masters were likely to cane for quite minor things still.

Off went Pattinson again for another consultation and came back with the answer: a caning equalled three blacks.

So Skinner had to be caned by Pattinson. One more black and hed have been up to the head.

It was done after supper. Skinner, as a junior, was in pyjamas anyway: Luscombe and May were told to go and change for bed and report back to Sawyers study. He made them wait outside, hands on heads, noses and toes pressed to the wall, for fifteen minutes or so and then ushered Luscombe inside for his beating.

He was a tall, powerfully built boy with penetrating pale blue eyes, a good athlete and rugby player. Faced with the evidence of his notebook he couldnt put up any kind of defence, and he didnt argue when Sawyer announced that he was getting six whacks of the slipper. He removed his dressing gown, came to the armchair, which Sawyer had turned round to give him room to swing, and bent over it. Luscombe was well accustomed to corporal punishment and though he knew the slipper was going to hurt he wasnt too bothered. Sawyer briefly ran his hand down over the offered backside, checking that the boy had removed his pants, and picked up the Green Flash.

It had now been adapted slightly. Since no-one ever needed to wear them as gymshoes, the heel had been bent down and bound with insulation tape. This made a good handle to hold the instrument with and now there could be no doubt. This was a formidable weapon with only one purpose: the punishment of offending boys.

Luscombes bottom was ideal for receiving punishment. Lean and firm with muscle and now stretched slightly by his position over the chair. The pyjama trousers were smooth, leaving the boys anatomy as perfectly on view as if hed been naked.

Sawyer applied the slipper with a good swing, landing the heavy sole on Luscombe left buttock. After three, all of which landed on the exact same spot, the boy had made no sound, but now he turned slightly as though begging for the remaining whacks to land on his right buttock.

But Sawyer was having none of it. "Lie straight," he commanded, and Luscombe obeyed. The next whack landed again on the boys left buttock, but now the extreme tip of the rubber sole caught the inward slope of his right buttock and he whimpered with the sudden excruciating pain. Sawyer stepped back as far as he could, swung the slipper from behind his head with the full force of his arm and shoulder. SMACK on the exact same spot.

Luscombe yelped with the intolerable stinging of it. His head jerked up but he held still, knowing full well the penalties for getting up too soon. The last landed full on his left buttock again, but the damage had been done. Neither the boy nor the prefect yet knew that blood had been drawn.

"Get up." The boy pushed himself upright and stood waiting to be dismissed. He longed to rub his bottom, but refused to give the prefect the satisfaction. Awkwardly he pulled on his dressing gown again and hobbled out. Sawyer looked out into the corridor to order May inside and had the pleasure of seeing Luscombe rubbing hard at his rear end.

May was a much smaller boy, with ginger hair and a cheeky grin that managed to survive even the prospect of the whacking that he was there for. With more blacks against him than Luscombe he should have been getting a worse beating, but the prefects had decided that more than six – especially with the Green Flash – would be too much. He too accepted six as a fair punishment.

He took off his dressing gown and bent over the chair back. He was shorter than Luscombe and had to stretch up on his toes to bend over far enough. His tight little bottom was an enticing prospect for an enthusiastic whacker like Sawyer. He lay his hand against the taut pyjama seat, thought it didnt feel right and explored further down. Sure enough, under the cotton of the pyjamas, he could feel the hem of another garment.

"May. Are you wearing something under your pyjamas?"

"Yes, Sawyer," said the boy, with a sigh.

"What?"

"Swimming trunks, Sawyer."

"And your pants too?"

"Yes, Sawyer."

"Get them off."

This was too much. He might – just – have let him get away with leaving his pants on, but this was a deliberate attempt to soften his punishment. Last term, the boy would have been caned across his bare bottom – but now, of course, things were different. But Sawyer was determined that the gyppy little tyke wasnt going to get away with it.

May stepped out of his pyjama trousers, peeled down his trunks and followed them with his pants. He knew perfectly well – or thought he did - that Sawyer would be within his rights to slipper his bare bottom, and now he was scared indeed because the slipper had acquired a terrible reputation.

"Can I – " he stammered, "put my pyjamas back on?"

Sawyer pretended to think about it. "All right," he said. "But after Ive slippered you, Im taking you to Pattinson."

The boy looked even worse, if that was possible. "Do you have to?" he pleaded. "I mean, its not as if Id actually had the whacking with them on, is it?"

"But you were trying to lessen the effect. Well let Pattinson decide what to do with you."

"But hell swish me."

"Thats the chance youll have to take."

"Slipper me with nothing on," May offered. "I wont tell anyone. Honest."

"No," said Sawyer – and for the moment, he really meant it.

"Here, look." And the boy almost threw himself over the chairback, hoisting his jacket at the same time, offering his naked bottom for the slipper. The skin was smooth and pale, the buttocks perfectly shaped without an ounce of fat, the muscles defined and clear.

"Get up," the prefect ordered. May stood upright once more, his hands now clasped in front of his groin.

"Oh, please, Sawyer. Slipper me like this. Dont take me to Pattinson. The cane hurts so much with only pyjamas on." There were almost tears in his eyes.

"Right," said Sawyer as though he had just been persuaded. "Six of the very best on your bare arse. You tell no-one. At all. And if I ever hear that youve padded up again for a beating Ill take you up to Appleyard and make sure that he gives you a dozen across your naked backside. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sawyer. Honest."

The boy bent himself over the chairback again, offering his bottom once again to be punished. The first hard slap of the Green Flash made him squeal and the pale skin was instantly dark red. The second landed on the same place and May yelled again. This time he shot upright, and his hands almost started to rub at the fire, but he realised what he was doing and threw himself over into the bending position once more. The third deepened the colour even further and May yelled even louder. Somehow he held the position though.

"Please, Sawyer, smack the other side. It hurts so much."

"I decide where your whacks go. Hold still."

The boy tried, but when the fourth whack landed once more on his suffering left buttock he wailed, his feet kicked and he turned his body as much as the chairback allowed him to. The red had started to turn to purple bruise that covered all the lower two thirds of one buttock.

"Two to go," said the prefect.

"The other side, please," the boy pleaded. But he straightened, allowing the prefect to do as he pleased.

Sawyer threw himself into the whack, landing it square on the so far unmarked right buttock. The boy squealed shrilly and his right foot kicked up. Now the whole of his bottom was discoloured and he was gasping in the back of his throat.

"Last one," said the prefect and lined up the slipper before launching himself into the whack. It landed perfectly across both buttocks. Where it hit the bruised left buttock the agony was excruciating and on the right it burned deep into the cleft, searching out the boys tenderest places.

"Aagh!" he roared, trying but failing to keep the howl of pain behind his clenched teeth. He struggled to rise but Sawyers hand on his back held him there.

"Lie still," he ordered and the boy obeyed. The whole of his bottom was bruised and burning. "Are you going to get three blacks next week?"

"No, Sawyer."

"And are you ever going to pad up for a beating again?"

"No, Sawyer. Honest."

"Good. Get up."

Painfully, May pushed himself upright and clutched both hands to his roasting rear end, thrusting forward with his loins so that the prefect was treated to a display of his newly grown penis jerking up and down as he tried in vain to massage away the awesome fire in his backside.

Sawyers hand flashed out and took a good grip on the circumcised member. "And if I hear a word of what Ive done for you tonight, Ill have you up to Appleyard for a bare arse caning before your feet touch the ground. Understand?"

"Yes, Sawyer. Promise." And the boy danced, not knowing whether to protect his boyhood, or to go on rubbing his buttocks.

"Get dressed," the prefect ordered.

Round the corner outside Pattinsons study, Skinner was still waiting to be caned. He had taken his dressing gown off and left it in his dormitory since he knew only too well that it would have to come off before anything happened.

Pattinson ushered him inside and set out the facts: the boy had gained a large number of blacks, and he had been caned, but he had failed to gain enough reds to counteract them; he was going to be caned; he would receive six strokes.

Skinner noticed the two chairs placed in what was starting to be called Appleyard formation and when he was given the order to bend over, he went straight to them, knelt on the nearer one and stretched himself over the backs and supported his upper body on his folded arms.

His backside was strong and full of meat, an enticing target for anyones cane. Pattinson was unmoved by the erotic potential of the boys buttocks, but he knew his duty. Since becoming the only prefect with the power to cane offenders he had honed his technique with practice on a cushion. He had also bound the end of his new cane with waxed thread, to protect it against splitting, but also so that it hurt more. And he had submitted to an extended experimental thrashing with only pyjamas for protection from his friend Woodman in order to gauge the degree of force he should apply. Woodman in turn had allowed Pattinson to cane him and now the head prefect knew exactly what he was doing.

Skinner made very little noise as he was beaten. But then he was a very experienced recipient of corporal punishment – a bit of a connoisseur in fact. All six strokes landed low down on the area an inch or so above his thighs, covering no more than two inches of flesh. This was entirely below the part bruised by the milder caning he received from the Art master and several times more painful. When the cane landed on a line already wealed by an earlier stroke it seemed as though the fire was being driven deep into the muscles. When it was over Pattinson made him remain in position for a minute during which the pain seemed to intensify and spread until the whole of his bottom was on fire.

"Will you get blacks or a caning next week?" Pattinson asked the still bending boy.

"No, Pattinson," Skinner replied from his exposed position.

"Then get up and get out."

Skinner was happy to escape and massage the terrible suffering in his backside. Up in the washroom he examined himself and even surprised himself by crying a very few tears: few if any previous beatings had come up to this one. But a few minutes later he was able to display the startling weals and describe how bravely he had taken the worst that Pattinson could throw at him.

But for the authorities – Mr Appleyard, the masters and prefects – the new system seemed to have proved its worth.


More stories by Mr Creakle