This story follows on from "A voyage back in time" and "The birching re-enacted". It is set in the 19th and 26th centuries. Acknowledgements to Roald Dahl for the idea of the rat in the sweet (candy) jar! My story is complete fiction, though a John Percival really was headmaster of Rugby in 1889.
Jamie McCutcheon was bored. It had been raining incessantly for the past few days and he was fed up with being stuck indoors. It had been some time since he had last played with his time-reader. He had spot-visited his remote ancestor Thomas at Rugby School in 1834 and experienced, through computer simulation, the birching he had endured on his sixteenth birthday.
Jamie looked through the notes he had made on his family tree. Both Thomas' son Geoffrey and Geoffrey's son William had also attended Rugby. Jamie decided to spot-visit William in 1889, when he was 15, and see if things had changed at the school. He revisited the assembly hall and Dr Kineholme's study. Both seemed relatively unchanged. There were a few extra bookshelves in the study and on the same wooden desk a bright shiny new typewriter took pride of place. In one corner there was a bucket with a couple of birch-rods soaking in it, just as there had been over 50 years before when Thomas was a schoolboy. But now, beside the bucket, there was a large Chinese vase containing a dozen or so rattan canes of various lengths and thicknesses. They were all kept in immaculate condition, their flexibility maintained by the frequent application of linseed oil - a chore given to delinquent pupils.
Birchings were now more of a rarity than they had been in the 1830s and public birchings, when a boy was flogged in front of the whole school, were very rare indeed. The Victorian sense of propriety meant that a number of teachers were very uncomfortable about bare-bottom thrashings, so public birchings had been abolished for all but the most heinous offences. Not that there was any lessening of corporal punishment as a whole. Far from it. The introduction of the rattan cane as the main instrument of chastisement enabled a sharp sting to be delivered to an offender's buttocks through his breeches without any need for nudity.
Billy McCutcheon was an irrepressible live-wire, constantly getting up to mischief, mainly of a fairly harmless kind. He got more than his fair share of beatings. Jamie set his time-reader to a Saturday in June 1889. He focussed on one end of Rugby High Street about 11 in the morning as boys from the school flooded in to do their shopping. Billy was wandering round the town with his class-mates Albert ("Bertie") Bentley-Smith and Richard ("Spotty") Hunter, a nickname he had acquired shortly after puberty as his face became covered in acne. Jamie heard the name McCutcheon and excitedly re-focussed the time-reader on the three boys, who were halfway down a weed-infested alley that came out onto the High Street. Bertie spotted a dead rat lying under a dandelion leaf. "Hmm... Wonder what we could do with that," he said.
"I know!" said Billy. "Let's have a bit of fun with old Miss Cranshaw!"
Miss Cranshaw was a sour-faced old lady who ran a confectionery shop on the High Street. Her tongue-lashings were legendary and many a boy from school found himself on the receiving end. To mischief-makers like Billy and his friends it was part of a day's fun to wind her up.
"Let's go to her shop and stuff the rat in one of the sweet jars!"
"You must be joking! She'll have a dicky fit," said Bertie.
Spotty chimed in: "Yes, old bean, and you know what old Percy - the headmaster, John Percival - said in school assembly about boys causing a nuisance in town".
"Yes, a public birching, plus a week doing chores and more flogging if you don't do a good job," replied Bertie.
"Pheww... Better not risk anything, then" said Spotty.
"Hang on, chaps" interrupted Billy, "She's as blind as a bat. If you two distract her attention, I'll pop the rat into a sweet jar. I'll take the blame if anything goes wrong."
Billy wrapped the rat in a sheet of paper and stuffed it into his satchel. The three boys then headed for Cranshaw's confectionery shop. As the boys entered the shop, the bell over the door rang and Miss Cranshaw appeared. She was an incredibly stern-looking, beak-nosed old lady of about 60 - a veritable battleaxe - with grey hair swept back in a bun. She peered over her spectacles as if examining some particularly nauseous vermin. "Yes?" she said sharply, "What do you boys want?"
"I'll have a penn'orth of sherbet lemons, please" said Billy with a sweet innocent smile on his face.
The sherbet lemons were in a large jar on the counter within easy reach of the boys. Miss Cranshaw gruffly reached for the jar, made of opaque green glass, and took a handful of sherbet lemons, which she weighed in her scales. She had grabbed exactly one pennyworth, a skill which came from years of selling sweets ("candy" to our American readers). She then poured the sherbet lemons into a paper bag, which she twirled around a couple of times and deposited on the counter.
"And I'll have two penn'orth of liquorice allsorts, please" said Bertie, pointing to a jar in the middle of the highest shelf opposite the counter. Miss Cranshaw grimaced at the inconvenience.
"I shall have to get the step-ladder to reach that jar," she muttered irritably.
Slowly she mounted the step-ladder and briefly turned her back on the boys. In that moment Billy deftly removed the lid of the jar containing the sherbet lemons, dropped in the rat and replaced the lid - a process accomplished almost noiselessly in about two seconds. Miss Cranshaw, suspecting nothing, descended the step-ladder and weighed out the liquorice allsorts.
"And what would you like, young man?" she said, peering at Spotty.
"Oh I'll have some sherb-"
Spotty stopped suddenly as Billy landed a kick on his shins. "Aaargh! Just a bar of plain chocolate for me" he said, wincing with pain.
Miss Cranshaw glared at Billy. "I will not tolerate any horseplay in my shop, young man!" she shouted. "Now pay for your sweets and get out!"
She handed a bar of chocolate to Spotty and the boys paid up and left the shop. "You numbskull, Spotty!" said Billy, "You nearly gave us all away. Whatever possessed you to ask for sherbet lemons?"
"Sorry, Billy! It just came out automatically. I love sherbet lemons. Pity you've gone and ruined a whole jar of 'em!"
Jamie chuckled as he followed the scene on his time-reader. "Boy, those lads are going to cop it if they get caught!" he thought. "I wonder if Miss Cranshaw will make a complaint to the school."
A bright idea occurred to him. He focussed the time-reader on Monday morning assembly. His hunch paid off. The headmaster swept into the assembly hall with a look of thunder on his face, followed by the rest of the teaching staff. "All boys will line up in their forms outside IMMEDIATELY!" he said furiously.
The boys filed out of the hall, whispering to each other, wondering what had happened to put the headmaster in such a foul mood. They did not have to wait long. A small bird-like old lady appeared beside the headmaster and looked grimly at the rows of boys, myopically scanning the faces. "A very grave allegation of misconduct has come to my ears, boys. This lady says some of you placed a dead rat in one of her sweet jars. If the culprits own up immediately, I may show some leniency. If they do not, I will punish them with the utmost severity."
Billy glanced nervously at his mates Bertie and Spotty. Old Percy's "leniency" was famous and they had no inclination to try it out! On the other hand, to be caught without having owned up could have even more catastrophic consequences. The boys looked at one another and gestured that they should remain silent. There was a good chance the old bat would be too blind to recognise them. Miss Cranshaw started to examine the rows of boys, peering into the face of each one. From her description the headmaster was satisfied that the offending boys must be aged between 14 and 16, so he ordered the older and younger boys to stand to one side. Billy and his friends were becoming increasingly nervous and stood there with their hearts pounding. Miss Cranshaw was starting at the end of the row in which they were standing. The suspense was killing them, but they managed somehow to keep their cool. Miss Cranshaw was now just two boys away from Spotty. A minute later she was peering into Spotty's face. "Hmm... I'm not sure. This could be one of them..." she muttered.
"Hunter! Step forward!" ordered the headmaster. Hunter hastened to obey, feigning a look of surprised innocence.
Miss Cranshaw peered closely into Billy's cheeky face. "This little monkey was definitely one of them. This was the one who asked for sherbet lemons and kicked the other boy on the shins. And this," she hissed venomously, pointing at Bertie, "was the third one".
"Bentley-Smith and McCutcheon! Step forward!" yelled the headmaster.
The two boys, their heads bowed in shame, shuffled forward.
"I insist that you deal with these boys with the utmost severity. Only then will I drop all criminal charges against them," said Miss Cranshaw, adding, "And I want to see them getting it!"
"Do not worry, my dear lady. I will proceed against these miscreants with the uttermost rigour" assured the headmaster.
The whole school was brought together again. The headmaster, a powerful man in his mid-forties, six foot two tall, towered over the small, but formidable figure of Miss Cranshaw and both were flanked by the entire teaching staff at Rugby School. Billy and his two friends stood to attention, awaiting their fate with dread. "For this vile prank you three boys deserve to be expelled, but I am prepared to be lenient with you this time."
Billy winced at the word "lenient". That usually meant a very sore backside!
"Which one of you was responsible for the rat?" demanded the headmaster.
"I was, sir!" said Billy without a moment's hesitation, and then, magnanimously, "These two had nothing to do with it, sir."
"I give you full marks for trying to get your friends off the hook, McCutcheon, but we all know that these two aided and abetted your crime. You will all be publicly birched right here and now in full view of the school and the town."
He pointed to a growing group of locals, clustering on the opposite side of the fence less than a hundred yards away.
As Jamie surveyed the scene on his time-reader, he found it incredibly arousing and his pants were filled with a rock-hard erection. It was wonderful to be able to identify with his naughty young ancestor in such a vivid, memorable event. Physically he didn't look much like Billy, but as a mischievous teenager he did feel as if they were soul-mates. In one important respect, though, they were very different. Billy was not in the slightest degree turned on _s_e_x_ually by the prospect of being birched. For him this pain and humiliation were pure punishment. He was already close to tears.
The headmaster pronounced sentence: "McCutcheon! As the evident ringleader, you will receive 24 cuts and two weeks of chores. You will forfeit all your free days for the rest of term and any further lapses in behaviour will be punished most severely. You have come within a whisker of being expelled. As for you other two", he said, "You will receive 16 strokes each and one week of chores. You may retain your free days, but like McCutcheon you will be on probation for the rest of term and woe betide you if there are any further lapses!"
The headmaster paused here for effect, then turned to Bertie and Spotty: "You, Bentley-Smith, will horse McCutcheon for his first twelve, and you Hunter will horse him for the second."
"Yes, sir" chorused the boys.
"Remove your breeches and drawers, young man, and present your buttocks ready for chastisement."
Billy quickly unbuttoned his breeches and pulled them down. He then peeled down his drawers to his ankles and stood behind Bertie, who took hold of his wrists and raised his feet off the ground. Billy's bare bottom stuck out vulnerably and he was painfully aware that it was the focus of everyone's attention. The headmaster drew Billy's shirt and blazer up to the middle of his back. One of the prefects then ran up to the headmaster, carrying a large bucket containing seven or eight stout birch-rods. The headmaster took one and swished it, shaking off the excess water. The whole school assembly and the growing number of locals at the fence waited silently with bated breath. The headmaster was thoroughly enjoying the theatrical nature of the event.
"Lay it on thick, headmaster, make him squirm!" croaked Miss Cranshaw.
"Indeed, I shall, madam" he replied.
Then he stepped a few paces back and took a short run. The birch - a fearsome bushy implement with a least 12 supple birch twigs bound together - swished ominously through the air and landed squarely on Billy's bare bottom, leaving both buttocks laced with an intricate pattern of red marks.
Without a moment's hesitation Billy called out "One, sir!" and then added, as was customary, "Please may I have the second."
The headmaster waited a full twenty seconds before landing the second stroke. Once again Billy was not unduly troubled. It would be some time yet before he felt the full sting of the birch.
"Two, sir! Please may I have the third, sir!"
And so the flogging continued. By the fifth stroke Billy was gasping, by the eighth he was yelling and squirming violently. It was difficult for Bertie to hold him in place. Jamie could understand why. He had plugged into the simulator and could actually feel what Billy was going through. Although Jamie was now somewhat inured to the birch, the strokes which were landing on Billy's buttocks were more painful than anything he had yet experienced. There is no doubt that the headmaster intended this to be a memorable and exemplary punishment. The shame Billy felt at being birched naked before the whole school and the local townsfolk was compounded by the terror he felt at the state of his buttocks. Already he could feel the warm blood trickling down his thighs and dreaded what his backside would be like after 24 strokes. The smaller boys gasped in horror as they saw how quickly a birch could tear open the skin on a boy's bottom. No one in that age deemed the punishment excessive, though.
After twelve strokes Bertie lowered a sobbing, trembling Billy to the ground. Billy looked pleadingly at the headmaster and Miss Cranshaw. Both maintained a stony gaze. The headmaster knew how high-spirited Billy was and he was determined to break this wilful young colt. It was a warm sultry day. Billy was already hot and sweaty and tears ran down his handsome young face.
"Hunter! Horse him for the second twelve!" ordered the headmaster.
The boys knew better than to disobey. As Billy took up position, Spotty turned round and said encouragingly: "Come on, old man! Only another dozen to go".
Billy smiled weakly. Then Spotty reached back and took hold of Billy's wrists, raising his feet off the ground once again. Billy groaned, not knowing how on earth he was going to get through another twelve cuts. It felt as if someone was lacing his buttocks with red-hot steel wires. The eleventh and twelfth strokes re-opened the cuts on his bottom, sending a trickle of blood once again down both thighs. Jamie bit into a piece of thick rubber. He had never felt pain like this. Dr Kineholme's birchings were a doddle in comparison. In fact, Jamie's erection had long gone down - the pain was just too great. By the eighteenth stroke he had to turn the simulator off and just watch. Billy by now was screaming his head off, pleading pathetically to be let off the final six strokes, all dignity having long since vanished. However, so far from letting him off, the headmaster was determined to apply the birch with even greater severity. Billy's head was in such a whirl that after the twentieth cut he failed to ask for the next stroke and the headmaster awarded him two extra. These were applied one after the other with maximum force and Billy let out a long ear-piercing yell.
Meanwhile Spotty was groaning with the effort of holding Billy in place. Jamie focussed the simulator on Spotty to get some idea of how it felt from his perspective. Spotty's back was aching with the weight of Billy's hot body and both boys were drenched in sweat. Having to hold Billy for two extra strokes did not help. The combined odour of two infrequently-washed adolescent male bodies, faithfully replicated by the simulator, was almost overpowering to Jamie: "Faww! What a stink!" he exclaimed. Needless to say, no one in that age noticed other people's body odour that much.
The headmaster, with a look of grim satisfaction, laid the birch on the ground alongside the other two rods he had shredded on Billy's bottom. A couple of prefects carried Billy off to the school infirmary for matron to wipe the blood off his legs and dress his cuts. Bertie then horsed Spotty for his birching and one of the prefects horsed Bertie for his sixteen.
All three boys slept, fitfully, on their front that night...
Later that day Jamie had a wonderful time wanking off as he remembered the graphic details of Billy's birching, draped over the lap of his older brother Austin, who enjoyed giving him a long hard hand spanking.