There is always one boy sent to try us – the us being the poor headmaster who has to cope. There he was in front of me. Possibly the most handsome young man I have ever had in my school. He was now sixteen and he was already nearly a six footer. He had a wonderful slim body, a head of natural blond hair that most girls would die for. His whole face lit up when his cheeky grin suddenly appeared and the proverbial butter simply would not melt in his angelic mouth. He was gorgeous - and he was my number one nuisance. Justin Trouble lived up to his name and every time he appeared in front of my desk I groaned inwardly.
He had come to my school just over twelve months ago. He had already been expelled from two private schools but being the kind-hearted soul that I and all Headmasters are known to be I allowed his father to talk me into accepting him in my school. Of course, you understand that the cheque that the father wrote out for a new sports pavilion had nothing to do with my decision to accept the lad......
It was a Monday morning and I already had a slight headache from the port and wine and occasional whisky or two that I had drunk at a party I had attended the previous evening. Not that we Headmasters ever drink to excess, you understand. I had not even prepared my notes for Assembly that morning and I had this devil disguised as an angel to deal with. He had been brought in, or rather dragged in, by the school caretaker. Now the school caretaker was a man to reckon with. He was a giant of a man and his face really quite resembled the way Frankensteins monster is usually depicted. In fact, his nickname in the school was Frankenstein. Everyone was scared of him. Even I was scared of him - and I was the Headmaster!
"What seems to be the problem?" I asked wearily, whereupon the Frankenstein lookalike growled in his deep voice:
"Broken window."
"What about a broken window? What broken window?" I enquired of this fount of all knowledge.
"He has gone and broken a window. He had already smashed one when I caught him with a brick in his hand ready to smash another. He needs locking up."
"Very well, Mr Franken – er- Mr Cooper. Leave him with me. I will deal with the matter." The caretaker then released the boy whose collar he had been holding all this time and reluctantly left me to deal with this unfortunate episode.
"It wasnt me, Sir," this gorgeous hunk of boyhood began his excuses.
"Of course, it was you. The caretaker would not make up a story like this. He caught you red-handed."
"But, Sir....."
"No buts," I said, "You are always in trouble, Trouble." I winced inwardly at this unfortunate juxtaposition of words and promised myself not to repeat it in future. "We must both go to Assembly now and you will report here immediately afterwards. I suggest you pray harder than usual this morning!"
By now, we were both rather late for the Assembly. I donned my academic gown and sailed down the corridor into the school hall, the gown billowing out behind me. I still did not know what my morning Assembly was going to be about but at least I could make something up whilst they were all singing the hymn. I gave out the notices that I had been handed and told them all to turn to the hymn number that the music teacher had given me. I read out a passage from the Bible and then dismissed them. My assemblies were not the most inspiring thing on earth but they got the day off to a regular start and they were relatively short, much to the relief, no doubt, of the boys.
I returned to my study and there was Justin patiently waiting for me. He did not seem too worried by the inevitable punishment that was about to take place, but then he had been caned many times in the past and he never uttered a murmur. It was almost as though he enjoyed it. Well, I decided, he was not going to enjoy todays beating.
"Sir," he began, " am I allowed to say something?"
"No, you are not allowed to say anything. I do not want to hear what you have to say. You are always in trouble, Trouble."
He grinned and I bit my tongue. One day I will remember not to say that.
"I am going to cane you and this time it is going to be on your bare bottom. Take your jacket off and pull down both your trousers and your pants."
"Oh, Sir!"
"Dont sir me –just do as you are told unless you want this to be the third school from which you will have been expelled."
"Yes, Sir." And he did as he was told. He knew from experience that he had to bend over my desk and he did this without my having to say another word. So there he was. His beautiful bare bottom just waiting to be punished. I could not resist patting both halves of his buttocks and getting them exactly into the position that I wanted. I then withdrew a school cane from my cupboard and swished it through the air so that he could hear the noise it made and perhaps anticipate the pain that was to come. I lined the cane up in the middle of his bottom and whack! A neat red line appeared right in the centre of his buttocks as if by magic. Then I waited for several seconds and whack! The second red line appeared. I thought the bottom moved a little this time and so I took aim for the third stroke and whack! the third red line appeared. This time I definitely heard an ouch. The fourth stroke brought a rather louder Oh! And the fifth stroke was clearly causing some considerable discomfort as his buttocks moved to try to avoid the blow. I waited for him to settle down and finally struck a sixth time and I was rewarded by a very loud OH! and he sprung up and clutched his bottom and rubbed it like mad. He had six beautiful parallel red lines etched out on his cheeks. I congratulated myself on my expert aim and delivery and the fact that justice had been done.
I sent him on his way to his first lesson and told him to apologise to the master for being late. Meanwhile all this exertion had tired me out and I went to the school kitchen in search of a well-earned cup of black coffee. No need to overdo it, I thought. I returned to my study and sat in one of my comfortable armchairs and I might just have dozed off for a few minutes or, so it seemed, when I was rudely woken up by the school bell ringing for the mid-morning break. I must have slept for over an hour!
There was a knocking on my door. "Come in!" I shouted and who should then come into my study but Justin and another much smaller lad. Justin was holding him by the collar in much the same way that he had been held by the school caretaker.
"Now tell him what you told me," Justin said to the young lad whose name was Arthur Moh.
"P-p-please Sir, it was me who broke the window. Justin took the brick off me when the caretaker caught him."
And Justin released Arthur and glared at me in triumph, "That is what I was trying to tell you, Sir, but you would not listen."
"Hrrrumph," is all I could get out for the moment. I could see no way out but to admit to my hasty judgement and sort of apologise to Justin. Headmasters can never bring themselves to make a full apology. "It seems I came to a hasty and wrong judgement. Well I cant undo the caning so it looks like you have six strokes in credit for your next misdemeanour."
"Oh thats alright," said Justin magnanimously. "Just let me stay and watch him get his caning and we can call it quits."
He had the cheek of the devil but I thought for a moment and agreed. I then went through the same procedure with young Arthur. I felt it had to be the same just to be fair. So there was poor Arthur bent over my desk with his little bare bottom waiting for his six strokes whilst Justin was standing and gloating. I couldnt help but notice that while I was delivering this second caning Justins bulge in the middle of his trousers was getting larger and larger. At one stage I noticed that he was subconsciously rubbing himself to increase his pleasure.
I completed this second caning and sent the two boys packing. At least justice has been done at last I thought to myself.
How wrong can you be! It was only many years later when I was chatting to Justin at a school reunion that he confessed at last. He had threatened that poor little Arthur with being beaten up if he did not make a false confession to me in my study! Justin admitted that he had always been aroused by being beaten but he had never seen another lad receive a caning. He devised this plot whereby he would get to watch this other lad, who was half his size and whom he bullied regularly, receive a caning!
I wonder if Arthur ever forgave me? I doubt it. Once we have left school we may forget our irregular verbs, we may forget historical dates and mathematical formulae but the one thing we never forget from our schooldays is any caning we received. If you doubt this just read the autobiographical stories by Realist on this MMSA Stories site. He can recall in precise detail any caning he received, witnessed or gave with incredible accuracy.
The truth is that we can all picture them as though they had taken place yesterday and any canings received unjustly will never be forgotten or forgiven until our dying day. If Arthur gets to heaven (or hell) before me I imagine him waiting there for me with a cane in hand, waiting to get his revenge......