This factual history of my school days (with names and a few other details changed to prevent identification) has reached my first year at Towcester (my public school). The last two chapters were set in my first term. They told of an older boy's caning in the first half of term and of my own first Towcester swishing, at the same time as two older boys, in the second half of term. I wasn't caned again that term. In the following, Easter, term I have to admit that I was caned once by Davies (head of my house) and once by Hill (head boy of the whole school). Fortunately, I only got three on each occasion. But both were very painful experiences. In this chapter I am going to move on to the second half of the Summer term. I had already been caned by Davies once in the early part of the term. But, by the time this episode starts, I had not been in further trouble.
I was not far off my fourteenth birthday. But, in Towcester terms, I was, of course, still one of the youngest boys in the school. I had grown a fair bit, both mentally and physically, in the previous months. I was still, though I say it myself, a reasonably good-looking lad. Although my voice was just beginning to break, I seemed to be fortunate to be immune from the spots which plagued many of my friends who were also experiencing the beginnings of puberty. Although, I think, I was becoming more mature, I still enjoyed high-spirited schoolboy pranks. I had made many friends at the school, both in my own house and in others. But my best friends were still my study mates, Rowntree and Lemming. We generally did most things together and were pretty well inseparable. But I was also just beginning to branch out a bit. Nature being what it is, I found myself showing an interest in girls. Not that there was a great deal of opportunity at Towcester for indulging that interest. Strenuous efforts were made to ensure that our only contact with girls should be on the school's terms, not ours. Nevertheless, the school authorities were not so foolish as to prevent all contact between boys and girls. They must have realised, I imagine, that growing boys needed some sort of introduction to civilised contact with girls. Accordingly, there were occasions, not all that frequent it has to be said, when we were permitted, under heavy supervision, to see and talk to girls from our sister school (a girls' boarding public school on the other side of the town). But those were the only girls we were allowed to see. I fear that class may have entered into all this. I suspect that the authorities thought that our parents would be horrified if we formed relationships with girls whose backgrounds were not similar to our own.
There were several school clubs and societies which were jointly run by Towcester and the girls' school (I will call it St Joan's School). They met infrequently, and always with a master from Towcester or a mistress from St Joan's being present, often both. The general rule was that meetings should be held alternatively at Towcester and St Joan's. Although, as I say, there were several of these clubs, we were not allowed, in our first year, to belong to more than one. Furthermore, we were required to choose that one club very early in our first term and we could not leave it, in order to join another, until the beginning of our second year. That meant that it was all rather hit and miss. One could end up in a club which had attracted girls who, perhaps, might not appeal to boys of our age (and vice versa), while others could be fortunate enough to join clubs which were packed with wonderfully attractive nubile creatures who were the answer to every teenage boy's dream. Lemming, Rowntree and I had been lucky. In our first days at Towcester, Turner, our mentor, had explained the whole thing to us. He had also told us that there were two clubs in particular which generally attracted the best girls. They were the drama club and the badminton club. He advised us to apply to join one of those. But he also explained that, of the two, our best chance of being accepted lay with the drama club. That was because the maximum number of members of that club was quite a bit higher than the maximum for the badminton club. Also, he had said, lots of boys wanted to join the badminton club on the grounds that the girls wore gym kit and there was, therefore, opportunity to see an abundance of bare legs and tight shorts. His own view, however, was that there tended to be rather more opportunity to get to know a girl in the drama club. We were happy to be guided by Turner. We all applied to the drama club and we were all accepted.
I attended the club regularly. There were six meetings a term for the first two terms. In the Summer term, however, there were many more. That was because, at the end of the term, we would be putting on a production of Romeo and Juliet and we had to have a great many rehearsals. Some of the earlier ones were single _s_e_x_ rehearsals, with boys reading in the girls' parts. But the later ones were joint.
In my first term I had got nowhere with any of the girls. I simply did not know how to deal with them. They were like creatures from outer space as far as I was concerned. True, they were beautiful creatures, but it was as though I did not know what language they spoke or what their interests might be. Whenever I spoke to them, and it took a lot of courage to do so, I found myself either gabbling complete nonsense or speaking in monosyllables. In my second term I became a little more confident. I was assisted by the fact that my sport that term was hockey (field not ice for my American readers), one which girls also played. So I could talk about something which they might understand. It was towards the end of that term that I decided that the girl for me was Alice. She was the same age as me, not as tall as me, slim and, I thought, slightly mischievous looking. Her hair was a sort of light brown colour. It was straight and almost touched her shoulders. She had dark eyes, a small snub nose and lips that, even at my tender age, seemed to be crying out to be kissed. Both schools allowed their pupils to wear mufti for joint clubs. We, of course, had to wear the rather stuffy clothes permitted by the rules (tweed jackets, flannel slacks, shirts and ties). But the girls, and looking back this was very strange, were permitted much more leeway in their choice of attire. Their school uniforms had been designed, it seemed to us, to conceal any _s_e_x_ appeal they might have. But, when choosing clothes for these meetings with boys, they were allowed to select almost anything they wanted. Mini skirts, which were just coming in, were not allowed. But they seemed to be about the only items of clothing which were forbidden. Most turned up at meetings in tight blue jeans and body hugging blouses. Anyway, that was how Alice usually dressed. The effect on me was startling. I could see the shape of her budding breasts and her slim, long legs. Best of all, the contours of her small round bottom were sh! own off wonderfully. It was, I know, very ungallant of me, but when I first set eyes on Alice's stunning (as I thought it) figure, my very first thought was of how magnificent it would be to smack that gorgeous pert bottom. I suppose that was inevitable really, given my interest in the punishment of boys. But I don't imagine that Alice would have thought me to be a particularly desirable boy if she had known how my thoughts were going. Fortunately, I was not crass (or brave) enough to say anything to her which might reveal my unhealthy fantasy (although, as you will discover, she was not immune from my occasional observations on corporal punishment). And, as the months went by and I developed more, I began to understand that there were other reasons than imagined spankings for being attracted to girls.
It was not until the beginning of the Summer term that I really attempted to do anything about my infatuation with Alice. We were both to play fairly small parts in Romeo and Juliet. I was to be Tybalt who, as my readers will recall, was killed off quite early in the play. She played a servant girl, an even smaller part than mine. That meant that there were long periods when neither of us had to perform. At those times I began, more and more, to engineer things so that I could be near her. Amazingly, because I was still very nervous about this new venture, she did not spurn me. As I have already boasted, I was actually quite a good-looking boy. But I am glad to say I was not so pleased with myself as seriously to imagine that any girl might find me attractive. Now, so many years on, I hope I can be forgiven for suggesting that, just possibly, Alice found me almost as attractive as I found her. Anyway, we soon got into the way of chatting together at the end of the hall which was not being used for rehearsals as we waited for our own brief appearances on stage. First, we helped each other with learning our lines. Then, when we knew them, we talked about sports, what our fathers did (in those days mothers generally did not go out to work), what we did in the holidays and so on.
It must have been about five weeks into the term that Davies had to cane me for getting three black marks. Even though I was still fantasising about Alice being spanked, I had not, by then, said anything on the subject of corporal punishment. But I could hardly neglect to tell her of my so recent swishing. The club met on the day after I had been beaten. For the first half hour we had nothing to do. We sat side by side on a bench against the wall. We exchanged a few pleasantries. Then she gave me my opportunity.
"So, Percy, what have you been up to since the last meeting?"
"Nothing much", I replied in an off hand way, "we had a reasonable match against Hampton last week. We won by three wickets. I scored the winning runs, which was nice. Oh, and I got the cane yesterday which wasn't so nice."
She looked suitably distressed by this news.
"That's awful. I'm so sorry. Of course I knew they use the cane at Towcester, but I never really thought of you getting it. Was it dreadful?"
"Well, it was Davies, and he is probably the hardest swisher in the school, but I only got three and the pain doesn't last that long."
"Well, I think it's disgusting that they cane you at all. It's so cruel. Anyway, thirteen's much too old to be punished like that. I haven't been spanked at home for more than two years."
I think my pulse started beating quite a bit faster as I heard those words. I certainly felt a rush of blood to another part of my anatomy. What I would really have liked to do then was ask her all about her spankings, whether they were on her bare bottom, whether an implement had been used and so on. But I was not so foolish.
"Don't worry, it's OK for boys. I mean it would be really bad if they did it to girls, but boys are used to it. At least it's over and done with quickly, not like a detention."
"What did you get it for? Were you really naughty?", she asked with that mischievous twinkle in her eye.
"Nothing exciting I'm afraid. I just got three black marks within a month of each other, you know for silly things like not having my middle button done up on my jacket. If you get three black marks like that you have to be swished. It's really OK, we all get it sometimes and we don't let it bother us."
"Well I think you're really brave. Did you cry a lot?"
"We never blub", I protested vehemently, "OK, it bloody hurts", I thought it rather grown up to say 'bloody' to a girl, "but Towcester boys never blub during a swishing". Can you imagine such loyalty to school in a modern thirteen year old boy? I can't, but it was very common in those days.
"Does it leave marks on your hands?"
"They don't do it on your hands. You get it on your, um, well you know", I stammered in sudden embarrassment.
"On your bum? Like a home spanking?", she asked in a matter of fact way which made me think her very mature.
"Yes, except of course you get to keep your trousers on for it."
"Well that's something I suppose, I mean that used to be the bit I really hated, you know getting spanked on the bare bum. The last time I got it, when I was eleven, with a hairbrush, and even that was bare."
So now I knew, from her own mouth. This veritable goddess had been spanked on her bare bottom. I was now breathing a little too fast for comfort. My excitement was growing by the second. I would have loved to go on with the conversation for ages, but it was no doubt a good thing that, at that moment, I was called to rehearse my sword fight with Mercutio. I remember standing, with my hands over my trouser flies, to hide what was happening to me. Fortunately, however, it quickly subsided as I struggled to remember my lines and the carefully choreographed movements I had to perform.
That conversation had taken place in the first half of the term. Since then, Alice and I had become something of an item. Other boys, with a touch of envy in their voices, teased me about how much time I spent talking to her at the drama club. But I wasn't put off. I looked forward to those meetings more and more. Just before half term I had suggested to her that we might try the odd illicit meeting during the week (drama club meetings were held at the weekends). I had feared that she would reject that suggestion out of hand as being too dangerous. But she did have a streak of mischief in her and she immediately agreed that we should make a plan. I said I would work something out over half term.
My plan was not a novel one for a Towcester boy keen on a St Joan's girl. Every term, as far as I could tell, one or more boys would be given six of the best for crossing the river to meet the girl of his dreams. But I knew that that was the tip of the iceberg. You were very unfortunate if you were caught making a trip across the river. I reckoned that the odds were in my favour. The best time seemed to be after afternoon lessons on Fridays. We were allowed into the town longer on Friday afternoons than on other week days. St Joan's girls were not allowed into the town at all, on their own. But they were allowed to walk in the park on their side of the river (because that park was out of bounds to us). I had never actually crossed the river myself (other than for drama club meetings at St Joan's), but Turner had told me that the best meeting place was by a bandstand about half a mile from the bridge. He had explained that the dangerous part of a trip across the river was when one was on the bridge itself. Oncer over it, he had said, the chance of being caught was pretty minimal. That was because there was an unwritten rule that prefects, who were not immune from the charms of St Joan's girls, would always turn to the right when crossing the bridge and other boys would turn to the left. A prefect, seeing a junior boy in the park, would only give the boy the mandatory three black marks if it was clear that the offender had realised he had been seen by the prefect. Luckily for us, the general feeling amongst the prefects (unlike at Manor) was that it was bad form to punish a boy for an offence which the prefect himself was also committing. Of course, if the junior boy knew he had been seen, and the prefect realised that fact, punishment would have to follow. But, by sticking to the rule that prefects used one end of the park and juniors the other, the problem could generally be avoided.
At the first meeting of the drama club I asked Alice if she was still on for an illicit meeting. She said she certainly was. I asked her what would happen to her if she was caught. She said she would be confined to the school grounds for two weeks. That, she said, would be pretty awful, but it was worth the risk. She asked what would happen to me.
"Oh, just another swishing", I said, "course it'll be six but it'll definitely be worth it."
So, the following Thursday afternoon found me loitering near the bridge on our side of the river waiting until I could be confident that the coast was clear. At last, after several false starts, I took the plunge. I ran, as fast as I could, across the bridge and turned left, heading in the direction of the bandstand. The worst part (until the return journey) was now over. Even so, I looked around me all the time as I continued my walk. When I got to the bandstand there was no sign of Alice and I feared that I had been stood up. But I only had to wait a couple of minutes before she came into sight. I had assumed that, like me, she would be in school uniform. But, much to my delight, she was not. She wore a white blouse and white (tight I was pleaded to note) trousers. I thought she looked beautiful in the bright sunshine. I wasn't quite sure how she would expect me to greet her. A kiss was what I wanted. After all, by demonstrating our mutual willingness to take the risk of having the meeting, we were surely on the way to being boyfriend and girlfriend. On the other hand, the last thing I wanted to do was frighten her by being too forward. I needn't have worried. As she reached me, she immediately reached up and gave me a chaste kiss on my cheek. What a moment of delirious joy that was for me. I am well aware that the average thirteen (nearly fourteen) year old boy today would have got a great deal further than I had by the time of that meeting. But we were a little more innocent, or perhaps I should say cowardly, in those days. I had just had my first kiss from someone whom I could, without a great deal of exaggeration, describe as my girlfriend. It was a moment to savour for a long time. I have to say that I was very fortunate that Alice had clearly decided to take the lead in this relationship. Left to me, I doubt very much whether I would have dared to attempt a kiss, or any other physical contact. Neither would I have known what to do next. But Alice was more confident. Sh! e slipped her hand into mine and suggested a walk round the park. I could imagine nothing more pleasant. For about half an hour we strolled together, hand in hand, occasionally speaking, but mostly just thinking our own thoughts. I can't imagine that today's boys and girls could conceivably feel such pure elation as I did then as they rush into their "French kissing" and clumsy fondling. Don't get me wrong. All my instincts were to long for more. It was just that what I had was so much more than I had ever had before. We both knew that we had to make our separate ways back to our respective schools soon. We turned back towards the bandstand. When we got there, we had to say our goodbyes. This time I did have the courage to make the move. I gently put my arm around her and pulled her towards me. For a glorious second our lips touched. Then, both I think smiling happily, we parted, longing for the next drama club meeting on the next day.
As I approached the bridge, very cautiously, I just caught a glimpse of a prefect from one of the other houses crossing back into the town. I was confident I had not been seen, but my caution increased. I waited for about ten minutes, just to make sure he would not still be in the vicinity of the bridge. Then, looking all around me as I went, I sprinted across to safety. I had got away with it.
My confidence with Alice was now strong. No longer did I feel the worry, when going into drama club meetings, that she might not welcome my company. It was now generally accepted by the other boys and girls that, when we were not performing, Alice and I were to be left alone together. We resolved to meet every Friday afternoon by the bandstand. Without a doubt, and for the first time in my life, I now had a girlfriend.
I remember a feeling of great relief that I could be as aroused by thoughts of Alice as I was (and continued to be) by the canings my friends and I suffered. You must remember that, in those days, homo_s_e_x_uality was looked upon as being an evil beyond compared. There was no greater insult a boy could face than to be accused of being "queer". I recall how I would worry, in the darkness of sleepless nights, that my interest in the corporal punishment of boys was a precursor to a more distressing interest in boys. I had never, in fact, wanted to do anything of that kind with another boy. But that didn't stop me worrying. It was not a great leap, I reasoned to myself, from wanking while thinking about boys' bottoms to wanting to do something else with a boy's bottom. Indeed, I knew that listening to Lemming wanking in the next bed to mine (and imagining what he was doing) would often get me going as well. But, still, I did not feel the slightest desire to join him between his sheets. So, my tortured thoughts would go, there was probably still a chance for me. I had also drawn consolation from the fact that the pictures of naked girls that we used secretly to gaze at in our study could usually be relied up to produce a satisfactory reaction between my legs. But that, I had sometimes thought, could be just because I was imagining them having that effect on my friends. Now, at last, my fears were being put to rest. It was, no doubt, still sometimes a worry to me that the sight of a boy's striped bottom would almost always lead to an almost immediate stiffening. But at least I could now be sure that I was not one of those unlucky boys, and I knew there must be some, who would never know the delights of the female _s_e_x_. I did still, occasionally, imagine Alice's bottom being smacked, and that certainly excited me, but there were other thoughts of what she and I could do together which chiefly occupied my mind when I was safely in bed (on nights when I had not just seen the results of a caning).
One of the unwanted side-effects of my relationship with Alice was the reduction in the amount of time I was spending with Lemming and Rowntree. I was now spending every Friday afternoon in the park with Alice. Every Saturday and Sunday evening we were now having rehearsals for Romeo and Juliet. Even though my study mates were also in the production, they might as well not have been there for all the time I spent with them. They didn't complain about it, but I detected a slight feeling on their part that they were being sidelined by me. I began feeling guilty about my treatment of them. I think it was that, that led me to formulate the plan for the midnight swim. What I needed to do, I thought, was demonstrate to them in some tangible form that their friendship still meant a great deal to me. What would be better than to plan some adventure to be shared only with them? And that is what I did.
Many schoolboys are a little mad. We clearly were. We had ample opportunity to swim in the school swimming pool in the long Summer evenings. And we could do so entirely legitimately. Why on earth, you might ask, would we want to slip out of a window in the middle of the night, creep across playing fields without daring to use so much as a tiny torch and clamber over the locked gate to the swimming pool in the certain knowledge that, if caught, we would be thrashed within an inch of our lives? It can only be put down to a touch of insanity. But that was the plan I put to Lemming and Rowntree and that was the plan which both boys readily agreed to carry out with me.
We agreed to do it on a Saturday night, or rather Sunday morning. We decided to wait until one in the morning. By then, we reckoned, all masters and prefects should be safely in bed and fast asleep. We agreed to break out of the building through one of the windows in the changing room. We would leave it just ajar, so as to ensure that we could return later. I had a small alarm clock which I would put under my pillow, set to go off at one in the morning. The plan had all the merits of simplicity.
That evening, Lynch, another third former, had been given four strokes of the cane for his second collection of three black marks in the term. He had one of those ideal bottoms for punishment of which there seemed (much to my good fortune) to be several in our year. He had duly displayed the stripes to us before we got into bed. I had then set the alarm and settled down to enjoy my recollections of my friend's stripes.
The major risk, it seemed to us, was that Saunders, who was our dorm prefect that term and therefore occupied a small cubicle by the door, would wake when my alarm clock went off, when we were leaving or when we were returning. The first hurdle was jumped without a problem. I had been sleeping rather fitfully, because of my concern that the alarm clock would be heard by Saunders, and, when it went off, I managed to silence it almost instantly. I sat up in bed and, having satisfied myself that no one else was awake, I silently slipped out of the bed and arranged the bed clothes to make it look as though a boy was curled up under them.. Then, I stepped over to Lemming's bed, next to mine, and gently shook his shoulder. He woke immediately and, in a moment, was at my side. We then tiptoed over to Rowntree's bed and shook him as well. He seemed to be in a deeper sleep and I had to shake him again, more vigorously. He woke with a start. The light of the moon was shining through the window onto his face. I saw that he was about to speak and quickly put my hand over his mouth. In a moment he remembered what was happening and I removed my hand from his face. He climbed, a bit sleepily, out of bed and the three of us made our way, on tip toes, towards the door. There was terrifying moment as we got to Saunders's cubicle. I stepped on a loose floor board and there seemed to be the most deafening squeak from under my foot. We all froze. After a few seconds we started off again. The door creaked a little as we opened it and, again, we froze. But still no stir from the cubicle. We crept out and shut the door, very slowly. We waited in the corridor for a moment, just to make sure that there was no movement from inside the dormitory. Then we tiptoed towards the stairs. They were a bit creaky, but that was not such a worry, since the dormitory doors were all shut. Once we got downstairs the main problems, we thought, were over. We walked a little more quickly towards the changing room at the ot! her end of the corridor. The door opened easily and silently and we all stepped in.
We did not risk turning on the light in the changing room. But, luckily, the moon was still bright in the sky and we were able to make our way across to the window without any problem. It was a matter of seconds to unlock the window and pull it up. One by one, we climbed onto the sill and jumped silently to the ground outside. Then we eased the window down again, so that it was only just open and crept, rather painfully (we were not wearing shoes or slippers), over the gravel path (which was, incidentally one of those paths which was out of bounds to junior boys). Then we were on the playing fields. Our eyes now fully accustomed to the night, we ran straight across to the swimming pool complex. Once there, and well away from any buildings, we felt more at ease. Lemming climbed the gate first. Rowntree followed and I went last. As I got to the top I heard a ripping sound and looked down to see that my pyjama trousers had become caught in a bit of wire. There was a tear about three inches long just by the flies. I unhooked the trousers from the wire and clambered over. When I got down on the other side I told the others of my mishap.
"_s_h_i_t_", I said, "I've torn my pyjama trousers. I'll have to think of an explanation for Matron."
I remember Lemming's reply to this day.
"Just tell her you were thinking of Alice and had a bit too energetic a wank".
We all laughed and made for the swimming pool's changing room. We should have realised it would be locked. There was no way in. That was not a major problem. We obviously didn't need our swimming trunks, which were kept there. But we did realise that being unable to get a towel afterwards would be a bit of a bore. Rowntree then pointed out that there were towels in the house changing room. So there was no problem. There was a chill breeze that night and we all shivered a bit as we quickly stripped off our pyjamas and made for the pool. I put my foot in first. I was surprised to find that the water felt remarkably warm. I eased myself in fully and the others joined me. It really was warmer in than out. We swam a couple of lengths and then, becoming braver, splashed each other a bit. Lemming climbed out and dive bombed us. Soon we were all climbing out and jumping back in. I suppose we must have been there for about twenty minutes when we decided that we ought to go back. We collected our pyjamas and threw them over the gate. Then, completely naked, we climbed over in turn. We picked up our pyjamas and ran back across the playing fields, hoping that the night breeze would dry us a bit. But we were still dripping when we got to the changing room window. I remember being relieved to see that the window was exactly as we had left it. I eased it up and climbed in. I helped the others through after me and then quietly closed the window.
Just as I pulled the lock across, the light went on.
I turned in horror, imagining that one of the others had stupidly knocked the light switch by mistake. Then I saw him. Stapleton, in dressing gown and pyjamas, was standing by the door and looking at us. At first I was just shocked by the sudden bright light. Then it sank in. We had been well and truly caught. There could be no possibility of an excuse. Later that day we would all be nursing very sore bottoms.
Stapleton was not angry in the slightest. Indeed, he smiled at us before uttering the inevitable words.
"That's three black marks each I think lads. You'd better dry yourselves, then go back to bed, and try not to wake anyone else."
"Yes Stapleton", we all murmured as we stumbled towards the towels.
It may well have been my imagination, but I thought Stapleton's gaze was lingering on our naked and, as yet, unmarked bottoms as we rubbed our wet bodies with the towels. Once we were dry, we pulled our pyjamas on again and went back upstairs. Back in the dormitory, all was silent. No one had stirred during our absence. We knew better than to talk and so, silent as ever, we climbed back into our beds.
I lay wake for some time thinking of what was in store for me.. My fear was that our escapade would be considered a six stroke offence. Even if it was not, I thought, I must be at risk of six because I had another black mark already (neither Lemming nor Rowntree did). You must remember that I had only ever had three strokes at Towcester. And, on each occasion, I had been in agony. Furthermore, although most of my readers will have read stories on this site of young children being given vastly more than six strokes, they should realise that those stories are fantasies (or true accounts of the most hideous child abuse that could be imagined). In real life, at least in the period of which I am writing and in England, thirteen year old boys were very rarely given even as many as six strokes of the cane. So those of you who have been misled by the tales of extreme sadism which sometimes appear on MMSA Stories pages should understand that the prospect of six strokes of Davies's cane was one which struck very real dread into my heart.
The only good thing, although it did not seem so as I lay in bed that night, was that, being a Sunday, the punishments would be given in the morning rather than the evening. The form was that any boy with three black marks acquired between the time for beatings on Saturday evening and Chapel on Sunday morning would be dealt with immediately after Chapel. Indeed, odd though it may seem, the announcement that a boy or boys were to go straight to the gym after Chapel was actually made as part of the notices at the end of the service. So, at least, I was not going to have a whole day of terror to face. But, as I say, that was not how I felt that night. At that moment I would have given anything for another few hours with a pain-free bottom. Then I had another fear. It was possible, I thought, that Mr Rolands would consider that our offence was serious enough to warrant our being sent to him before our punishment. It was strange, but the thought of being reprimanded by him was almost as awful as the thought of bending over for six from Davies. All these fears swept through my mind as I struggled to get to sleep. I don't know how long I lay awake, tossing and turning in fear. But, eventually, I did go to sleep.
Word, of course, spread quickly. The rest of the dorm knew within moments of the bell going. At breakfast the news was passed along tables at the speed of light. We three offenders were sitting together and we all noticed that all eyes seemed to keep straying in our direction. Five minutes before the end of breakfast Davies came over to us.
"I want to see you three in my study straight after breakfast".
That was decidedly unusual, unless it just meant that he was going to take us to Mr Rolands's study for a housemaster's telling off. But we didn't have time to do much speculating. Grace was said and we set off for the Prefects' Corridor. We realised that Davies would already be there, because prefects always left the dining room first. So we knocked on the door and walked in.
"OK, lads, shut the door."
We did so. He was standing by his fireplace. We stood in a line facing him and waited for him to speak again.
"When I gave Mr Rolands details of your black marks before breakfast he suggested that your behaviour merited his speaking to you before your punishment. I told him that I didn't think that was necessary. He was in two minds about it, but eventually agreed that, if I gave you a telling off now, that would be sufficient. So consider yourselves told off. Off you go. I'll see you after Chapel."
We all knew that it would not be long before Davies was thrashing us as we had never been thrashed before. But we also knew that he was about the most decent head of house a boy could ever hope for. He had now confirmed that. I think we had all been dreading a visit to Mr Rolands. Davies must have realised that and he had intervened on our behalf. Of course we were dreading the forthcoming punishment. But I am sure that Lemming and Rowntree would confirm that there was no one else on earth we would rather be punished by than Davies.
We made our way to the school Chapel and took our places in the front pews. The service, which normally seemed to drag on interminably, proceeded at what appeared to us to be indecent haste. Even the sermon seemed to be short. Before any time at all had passed the school chaplain was giving the notices. There was something about choir practice. I can't remember the rest, other than the last words.
"Davies has asked me to say that he wishes to see Lineham, Lemming and Rowntree in the gym immediately after Chapel".
Everyone was looking at us. We tried to put a brave face on it, but it was difficult. As we filed out of the Chapel other boys gave us winks of sympathy. Turner whispered "good luck" to us. We turned towards the gym. Everyone else went to their studies. Davies was not there yet, but Saunders was. He was obviously the witnessing prefect. He held the door open and told us all to go in. That was something, I remember thinking, at least I was going to be able to watch my friends' beatings. But then I had that awful fear that I would not take my punishment well and wished that it would not be witnessed by them.
Saunders chatted happily to us as we waited. He congratulated us on almost getting away with it. We asked him why it was that Stapleton had been wandering around at nearly two o'clock in the morning. He confessed that he had no idea. We never did find out. Then the door opened and Davies, armed with a vicious looking cane, walked in.
"Right you three chumps. Anything to say before we get on with it?"
"No Davies" we said in turn.
"OK Lineham, do you agree you've got four black marks?"
"Yes Davies".
"Let's get on then".
I took my jacket off, handed it to Saunders and made that all too familiar walk to the white marks. I bent over and peered between my legs to watch the proceedings. I could see Lemming and Rowntree looking at my waiting bottom with a mixture of dread and fascination on their faces. I saw Davies walking towards me and putting his hand out to feel my bottom. I saw him transfer the cane to his right hand and position it across my bottom. I felt the light taps as he chose the best position. I saw him walk back four paces and turn back to face me. I watched in terror as the cane was lifted behind his shoulder. I saw the sudden leap forward. Then I shut my eyes, heard the swish and the loud crack and felt the first line of agony across my buttocks. I opened my eyes again and saw him walking slowly back. I determined I would not close them this time. The cane went back. He threw himself forward, taking three gigantic strides and he seemed to swing his whole body round with the cane as he slammed it hard into my flesh. Another sudden sting (too weak a word really) of pain flashed across my bottom. I saw him walk back. I saw him pull the cane back again. Then the lurch forward again and the awesome final swing as, again, the cane bit into my bottom. How many more? I wondered. I had already had as many as ever before. Oh please, I said to myself, let it just be four. He sprung forward and an instant later the cane was lashing me again. The pain was almost unbearable. I blinked several times. Then I watched closely. No I was not getting only four. He was back in position and running forward again. I wanted to scream as the fifth hit me. But of course I didn't. My finger nails were digging deep into my ankles. Somehow I managed to stay in place. What was he going to do? Oh no. My worst fears were confirmed. He was taking aim again. He hurled himself forward with what looked like even more force. The sixth stroke (and at least I knew it was the last) felt as though it was actual! ly cutting into me. I blinked with a fury to fight back the threatening tears. It seemed to work. Oh to be able to run around the gym ten times clutching my burning buttocks. But I knew that was not to be. Finally the relief of Davies's command.
"OK Lineham. It's over. Get up".
I grabbed my bottom and stumbled back to my friends, trying desperately to manage a smile. It must have looked much more like a grimace. Suddenly I was at a loss. I had not been caned at Towcester in front of other boys before. Was I meant to thank Davies now, or leave it till later? I blurted out: "sorry Davies, but do I thank you now or wait till you've done Lemming and Rowntree?".
"Wait till you've all been punished."
"Now, Lemming, do you agree that you have three black marks?"
"Yes Davies".
"Good, on we go".
Saunders handed me my jacket and took Lemming's.
Lemming walked to the white marks. He took up the normal position. Even though my own bottom was incredibly painful, I couldn't help noting to myself how perfect my friend's was for the treatment it was about to be given. I watched Davies's routine movements carefully. This was, after all, the first time I had seen him cane another boy. As the first stroke was delivered I marvelled at his strength. I felt for my friend as the cane dug deep into his firm buttocks. He stayed almost entirely still. And he did so for the next four as well. I wondered whether he was going to get the full six, or whether I would be the only one, having an extra black mark, who was to suffer the extreme punishment. Sure enough, Davies allowed the tip of the cane to rest on the floor as he looked at his latest victim. A moment or two later he spoke again.
"Finished Lemming. Up you get".
Lemming also grabbed his bottom and held it firmly as he walked back to join us.
Rowntree had had to watch both of our beatings before getting his. I remember thinking what bad luck that was, because watching other boys getting the cane is much better after you've had it yourself than before. But then I thought that he was at least lucky enough to know now that he was only going to get five. His bottom was just as suited to corporal punishment as Lemming's. As he took his position I even found that there was just the very beginnings of a stirring in my loins. He took his thrashing as well as we had taken ours. His pain was obvious for all to see, but there was no sound or movement and his eyes were almost completely dry when he rose.
My pain was almost tolerable by now. I gently released my hands from my bottom and approached Davies.
"Thank you Davies", I said, as clearly as I could manage.
Lemming followed and then Rowntree.
"Well done boys. You are the youngest boys I've had to give more than four to and you took it as if you were two years older. Now off you go and admire your bums. Oh, and by the way, if Mr Rolands asks you, you will remember to tell him that I gave you the worst telling off of your lives, won't you?"
We smiled back at him and promised we would.
We rushed to our study and, without saying a word, fumbled to pull our trousers and pants down. The sight was amazing. There were weals, already purple, covering the whole of our buttocks. I could feel mine like ridges across my bottom. The pain was still intense, but very slowly fading. We all stood, naked from the waste down, longing for the agony to subside more. Eventually, we slowly pulled up our trousers and pants and gingerly sat on cushioned chairs. The rule was that boys had to stay in their studies for half an hour after Chapel, so we could contemplate the message we had received from the pulpit. We knew that the half hour would up before long and that soon there would be a stream of visitors all eager to hear what had happened and to see the evidence.
Sure enough, our study was soon full of thirteen year old boys admiring the best stripes they had ever seen. By then, the pain had faded to a reasonable level and we were able to banter happily with our friends. By lunchtime, the whole of our year in School House had seen our bottoms. Turner, of course, had been given a show too. The other older boys, by convention, would have to wait until showers after afternoon games. But they had their fill then. I doubt whether three third formers had ever been in such demand at Towcester before.
That evening we had drama club again. I told Alice all about our adventure. I was delighted that she seemed so impressed. But she was also wonderfully sympathetic about my aching bottom. When we left the hall she held me back, so that we would be the last out and then, when no one was looking, she quickly put her arms round me and, with her mouth slightly open, kissed me full on the lips. Then she very gently patted my bottom and whispered that she hoped it would be better soon. My day was made.
As I lay, on my side, in bed that night I thought of all I had seen and felt and I thought, too, of Alice. It was by far the best I had yet experienced. There seemed to be a flood of fluid spurting out at the end. The exertions of my nocturnal game together with my sleeplessness the night before soon overcame the discomfort in my buttocks and I drifted off to a wonderful sleep. I woke before the bell and immediately recalled all that had happened on Sunday. I was rock hard again. I looked at my watch. Thank goodness there was time. I pumped and pumped and pumped. What heaven it was to be a thirteen year old boy in love with a beautiful girl and almost pain-free after six of the very best.
The rest of that last term in my first year at Towcester passed without further incident of note. But you might be interested to learn of the conversation I had with Davies at the end of term House party. He was to leave the school. He was much in demand at the party as boys of all years gathered round him to wish him luck at his university. Finally, Lemming, Rowntree and I got our chance for an audience with the great man. We were drinking lemonade. He had half a pint of beer. He smiled at us as we approached.
"Ah, the terrors of the third form descend on me", he said with a chuckle, "I've warned Pearson that he'll have to strengthen his biceps fit if he's going to keep you three in order.". Pearson was to be the head of house in the next term.
The atmosphere was very free and easy. We felt no constraints of the sort there would have been in a conversation with a master. Soon we were all chatting happily, despite the age gap between us and the prefect.
"Oh come on Davies", said Rowntree, "we're not as bad as that."
"Let's put it this way", he replied, "I looked through the black book earlier today. You have to go back three years to find an entry for a third former getting five strokes. And as for you Lineham, you are the first third former to get six since I was a new boy. That's five years ago."
I felt distinctly pleased with myself.
"Wow Davies, that's great. Who was the last one?"
"Actually, it was me."
"Gosh Davies", this was Lemming, "that's amazing. What did you get it for?".
"Doing what Lineham does every Friday afternoon", he said with a grin.
I blushed deeply and protested that I didn't know what on earth he could be talking about.
"That's not very gallant to Alice is it?", he was smiling broadly, "I can't imagine she'd be very impressed to discover that you can't even remember all your walks in the park together."
I knew that Davies would never punish a boy as a result of a confession made at the end of term party. So, overcoming the shock, I asked him how he knew.
"One of the perks of being a head of house here is that you get to have meetings with the heads of houses at St Joan's", he explained. "Alice's head of house happens to be a particularly attractive girl called Rose. I've found it necessary to see quite a bit of her over the last term. Anyway, it seems that Alice's adventures with her handsome boyfriend have been the talk of St Joan's ever since half term."
"But when did you find out?", I asked in some confusion. Surely, I thought, he couldn't have known while it was going on, otherwise I'd have been the first third former for goodness knows how long to get six twice.
"Oh, I've known for weeks. I admit I did wonder whether I ought to do something about it at first, but Rose came to your rescue. She said it was 'perfectly sweet' and I would be nothing but a 'nasty bully' if I stopped it. She assured me that she was keeping the whole relationship under careful observation and I could rely on her to make sure the two of you didn't go too far. And then I remembered what happened to me. I was caught the very first time I met Susan, that was her name, on the other side of the river. The swishing I got after that stopped me from meeting her again for a whole term. That was too miserable for words. I didn't mind the idea of having to give you six, but I wouldn't have wanted to ruin your fun with Alice. So I agreed that we wouldn't intervene, unless you were silly enough to be caught in the act, which you never were."
Davies had always been on a very high pedestal in my eyes. Now it seemed to be getting even higher. It must have been quite a risk for him to turn a blind eye to such grave and repeated rule breaking by a third former. I remember worrying that tears might be coming to my eyes as I contemplated his kindness to me. Luckily, Rowntree changed the subject.
"Hey Davies", he said, "what was the best swishing you ever had to give this year?"
"Well, I've had to swing the cane quite a bit over the last three terms. That's a difficult question. Of course, it's never exactly fun having to hurt boys, but you're right that some swishings seem to go perfectly and some just don't seem to be quite right." He thought for a moment and then spoke again. "Funnily enough, I think that the one I was most pleased with was Lineham's first ever swishing. I suppose it was partly because that was a first for you and me Lineham. It was a first for you because you'd never had a prefect's swishing before and it was a first for me because you were the first new boy I swished. But I also thought that it went rather well technically. I mean, I got the impression that every stroke was landing just where I wanted it to. And, don't take this the wrong way, but actually your bum is just exactly the right shape and size for the cane. Maybe you'll find out one day, but it really is true that some boys' bums are perfect for swishing and some aren't. Yours is one of the good ones. So", he added quickly, perhaps not to offend my friends, "are Rowntree's and Lemming's, it's just that yours was the first one to need the cane."
That really did make me feel proud. The thought that Davies had taken more pleasure from a swishing he had given to me than to the many more he had given to so many other boys in the House, was delightful to me.
Lemming may have been just a little put out about this. "But it must have been something when you had to swish us for the midnight swim. I mean that was a swishing and a half. It really hurt like mad. I certainly thought it was the best you gave me."
"There's no doubt about that", Davies smiled at him, "that was quite a highlight of the year. I shouldn't boast about it, but I really did think that I did an excellent job with all three of you that time. Mind you, you all helped by taking it so well."
We couldn't go on monopolising Davies for ever, but we had heard enough to make us all happy. We went off to find some other friends, and boast about what we had been told.
Later in the evening I found myself talking to Pearson. Even though he was still a lower sixth former, he had been a prefect for that term, to prepare him for his responsibilities as head of house. He was another decent sort. He had shown himself to be firm but fair. He had actually given me two of the black marks which had led to my first caning of the term, but they had been deserved and I had not felt that I had been harshly treated. I asked him if he was looking forward to his new duties.
"Parts of them", he said, "It's not all fun you know. There's a lot of hard graft. But, on the whole, I'm looking forward to it. Davies has given me a lot of help. But he's going to be a bloody hard act to follow."
"I know", I said sympathetically, "I reckon we wouldn't have won half the house matches we did if it hadn't been for him. Still, all the boys think you're going to be great. Most of the betting is on you being just as good a swisher as Davies."
"Well, I'll do my best", he said with a grin, "and if Davies is right, you're likely to be one of the first to find out."
And so my first year at Towcester had come to an end. As I looked back on it, my impression was that it had gone excellently. I had made many friends. I had a girlfriend. I had had a great deal of fun. I had taken five swishings, including one which had been six of the truly best, in a manner which would make any schoolboy proud. Yes, it had been a good year. I resolved to make the next one just as good.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
I think you can probably only tolerate one more instalment describing canings I received. In the next instalment "Caught in the Park", which deals with an incident when I was fourteen and another when I was sixteen, I will recount two more of my own beatings. Thereafter, I will move on to my days as head of School House when, at last, I was on the other end of the cane. Your emails make all this worth while, so do please keep sending them.