I went to a Public School where the prefects were empowered to administer corporal punishment. There appeared to be no written rules around this practice although there were unwritten codes of ethics, which most prefects adhered to.
Most punishments comprised six strokes or the gym shoe, often with a golf ball stitched into the end for added impact, or the cane. Eight could be given in exceptional circumstances, though some of the older hands claimed they had been given twelve when they were juniors.
I never heard of nayone being hand-spanked - I think that would have been regardewd as too intimate.
Punishments were normally delivered on 'whatever the boy was normally wearing'. Requiring a boy to remove cloths for punishment seemed to be a taboo. This meant boarders were almost invariably beaten at night just after lights out when they were wearing only pyjamas, but day boys (approx. 1 3rd of the school) usually had the advantage of wearing normal trousers and underpants.
Boarder prefects often resented this minor advantage and to get round it would sometimes tell miscreants to report to their studies in gym kit, as though they were to be sent on a punishment run (the other principal punishment metered out by prefects) and then said they had 'changed their minds' and they were to be beaten, now clad only in thin gym shorts with no underpants underneath.
In my second year in the school the Head Prefect was a rugger hero of limited intellectual capability who loved administering CP and hated bright day boys.
One afternoon he caught myself and two other dayboy friends mildly skirmishing with each other in our common room. We were immediately charged with 'fighting' and told to report to his study in gym kit in 15mins – 'to work off our excess energy'
As we made our way reluctantly to the changing room we were almost certain he would not forgo the opportunity to get his cane on the bottoms of three bright day boys and decided that we had best keep our underpants on to afford a little extra protection.
Sure enough when we reported to his study 15 minutes later he informed us he had 'changed his mind' and we were to be beaten. Several of his cronies from the prefecture had been gathered to witness the execution. My two partners in crime were then sent to wait outside – I was clearly to be the first victim.
He selected a menacing cane from the cupboard and I was despatched to a spot across the far side of the room and told to bend over. Initially I attempted to get away with a fairly gentle angle, bit was not surprised to be told 'to get right down and touch your toes'. I obeyed, but instead of walking back for is run up for the first stroke he came forward and stared to run his hand over my tight buttocks. As I bent tighter the outline of my underpants had clearly became visible under my thin shorts.
'Why are you wearing underpants? You know you are not supposed to have anything on under your shorts for punishment runs.'
'I thought it might be cold outside' I answered.
'Get up' he ordered. I obeyed.
'Take off your shorts'. Hesitantly - I obeyed.
'Now take off your underpants' Even more hesitantly - I obeyed.
I assumed he was just going to make me go through a ritual of removing the pants and then putting my shorts back on over my bare arse, as they should have been, so I started to reach for my shorts again.
'No - bend over again just like that' he ordered, as I stood bare-arsed, naked from the waist down, in front of him. The spectators had huge grins on their faces glancing over my embarrassing outfit of only sneakers, socks and short vest.
'But ....' I started to protest frantically trying to pull my running vest down in a useless attempt to cover my smooth-shaven crotch, my smallish stubby boy _c_o_c_k_ with its tightly circumcized pink helmet head and my very low dangling oversized balls.
'Shut up, and leave your vest alone. Hands at your side!' he retorted. 'You deliberately wore what you thought would be extra protection in case you were to be beaten and now you will be beaten with no protection at all - now get down again!'
There was no point in pleading – it would only increase the sentence so reluctantly I touched my toes again presenting my completely bare buttocks to his cane. He clearly took great delight in yanking up my running vest, exposing fully the target area of my bubble buttocks and presenting the spectators with a view of my hairless tight anus and my low-hanging balls from behind as well.
Now he walked back for his run up. 1-2-3 paces, the swish and then the firebrand as cane cut fiercely into my naked buttocks. I rocked forward at the impact, desperately trying to retain position amidst the seething pain, knowing that if I moved significantly he would be entitled to administer additional strokes. I retained composure and braced myself for the second stroke.
1-2-3 - swish and then the firebrand as cane cut fiercely into my buttocks for the second time. Desperately - I held position
The third, fourth and fifth strokes followed. My buttocks were now really on fire and I felt a slight trickle of blood begin to ooze from one of the wheels.
I braced myself for the sixth stroke. Almost certainly just one more to go.
He clearly wanted to make me remember this one particularly and placed it with maximum force a slight angle across all the others, which formed a tight two- inch grouping. I nearly collapsed with the pain and managed to grit my teeth for what seemed an age before he told me to 'Get up and adjust my dress.'
Gingerly I eased my shorts back on over my flaming buttocks. I did not bother with the underpants now – they were no use and I did not want them to get stuck to the wheals if I was bleeding slightly.
As I went out I was handed a pair of underpants by each of my colleagues. They had apparently heard what had gone on through the door and understandably did not wish to be put through the same 'dressing down'. They at least would have the small protection afforded by their running shorts and would also be spared the indignity of having their buttocks and genitalia exposed to the company of spectators.
One by one we regrouped in the changing room licking (figuratively) our wounded bottoms.
In an attempt to ease the pain we all stripped naked and got in the showers with the water temperature turned really low in a vain attempt to cool our fires.
Comments welcome!