This is another sequel to "A Voyage Back in Time", which should be read first. The story is complete fiction, though there really was a Borstal (juvenile reformatory) in Gosport and boys were regularly birched there in the 1930s. Many of the details of the story are authentic.
16-year-old Jamie McCutcheon had become quite an expert on corporal punishment down though the ages. Over the past six months he had used his time-reader frequently to spot-visit past scenes of people being flogged, including many of his ancestors. He found it an incredible turn-on, and it was an added bonus if his older brother, Austin, gave him a spanking immediately after one of his time-tourism adventures.
In the 26th century schools had evolved into something very different from those in, say, the early 21st century. Most instruction was given to students through the computer - a development which many had foreseen as early as the late 20th century. Nearly every kid had a time-reader, and history lessons relied heavily on them. Students would choose a topic and use their time-reader to research it. Jamie had picked "education in the 19th and 20th centuries". It had enabled him to kill several birds with one stone: He had found out a lot about his ancestors; he had enjoyed watching scenes of corporal punishment, particularly in the 19th century; and he had got excellent marks on his history module at cyber-school.
Time-readers enabled pupils who, for example, missed a group session with their teacher to go back in time and attend the session. Of course, they could not join in or interact with the session any more than you could with a CCTV recording. But at least you could make up somewhat for missing it. Jamie had done this so many times that the history teacher would often begin a session with the words: "Welcome to all of you here and to Jamie who isn't here, but has probably got his time-reader trained on us."
History - at any rate as far back as the 11th century (and only the most powerful time-readers could get back that far) - was no longer a matter of conjecture. A question like "Did King Richard III really say 'A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!' as he lost the battle of Bosworth in 1485?" was easily answered. Focus the time-reader on King Richard that day and listen to everything he said. End of discussion.
For those of a more prurient nature a question like "Did US President Bill Clinton have full _s_e_x_ with 'that woman'?" was easily resolved by a few visits to the relevant room in the White House. Hot stuff! The facts of history could no longer be disputed, only their interpretation could be discussed.
There was still crime in the 26th century, but hardly any undetectable or unsolvable crime. Unfortunately, if you were powerful enough, there was such a thing as unpunished crime. Likewise in schools all cheating could be detected, but it was still possible to bribe someone in order to escape punishment. Jamie had tried once to cheat at school, but his teacher had used a time-reader to check up on him. As a punishment the teacher had threatened to have his computer and time-reader access withheld for three months, but Jamie had begged him for a different punishment, so the teacher had allowed him to be cyber-spanked instead. Jamie had put on his simulator helmet and submitted to a simulated paddling delivered to the appropriate part of his brain. Just in case you think that was a pretty mild punishment, let me assure you that it was every bit as painful as "real-life" paddling delivered on the buttocks, only it didn't leave any visible marks, other than a few tears running down Jamie's face. Corporal punishment wasn't legal in the 26th century, but if students consented, cyber-discipline was sometimes applied.
Jamie was particularly interested in the British Borstals of the 20th century. He had discovered the location of the punishment room in the Haslar Senior Closed Borstal in Gosport, Hampshire, a town on the south coast of England. Back in the early 1930s discipline was still strict and corporal punishment frequently used on youngsters. The main implements of discipline were the plimsoll (for minor offences) and the cane (for more serious offences), with the birch reserved for very serious offences in order to break the more stubborn boys.
While he was researching his ancestors, Jamie had focussed on a young lad called Robert (Robbie) Galloway, who lived next door to a branch of the McCutcheons and was actually related to them, albeit distantly. Robbie was born in 1915 to a lower middle-class couple, Ernie and Beatrice Galloway, who ran a small grocer's shop in the city of Durham in north-east England. Robbie was the eldest of their three sons. The other two, Albert (Bertie) and George, were born in 1920 and 1922 respectively. Following the world-wide financial collapse of 1929 the Galloways' business was badly hit by the downturn in the economy. Despite Ernie's heroic efforts the shop finally had to close in January 1931 when Robbie was nearly 16. He was obliged to leave the grammar school he had been attending as his parents could no longer pay the fees. He had go out and find whatever work he could get and there was precious little of that around. It was touch and go whether the family would have enough money to put bread on the table each day and poor little Bertie and George often used to groan with hunger.
Robbie had always been a bit wild and stubborn. Now he became even more rebellious and difficult to handle. He started to hang out with some of the rougher lads in Durham. Many of them were from miners' families, tough strong boys, all from even poorer families than the Galloways. Robbie was bright and strong-willed, a natural leader. The miners lads looked up to him as hed had a good education, yet he wasnt at all stuck up. It wasn't long before the gang started getting into trouble. At first it was just the odd bit of shoplifting, nicking an apple or banana when the shopkeeper wasn't looking, that sort of thing. Then they started to bully the "posh gits" - rich kids who went to private schools - and steal their pocket money. It all helped their families to keep food on the table, but it was bound to land them on the wrong side of the law sooner or later.
One day as Robbie and his friends were about to relieve a "posh git" of his pocket money a young policeman rounded the corner. They all ran off in different directions, but Robbie tripped over a paving stone and got caught. He was let off with a caution, as were his friends, whom the police caught up with later. But his Dad was not at all impressed and as soon as Robbie got home from the police station, he had an appointment with Dad's belt, which left him unable to sit down for several days.
The experience shook Robbie and set him on the straight and narrow for several months. He had no desire to get on the wrong side of his Dad's belt again! But the family fortunes remained just as bad as they ever were. Robbie could put up with hunger himself, but he couldn't bear to see Bertie and George crying with empty stomachs. Finally Robbie and his three closest friends in the gang - Geoff, Phil and Tony – decided to break into Smith's, a tool factory on the outskirts of town. They hoped to find some money in the manager's office and perhaps some precision tools which they might be able to sell. Geoff shinned up a tree and forced open a window which had not been shut properly. He then let the others in through one of the back doors. Unfortunately they were spotted by a man who happened to be walking his dog in nearby woods and the police quickly arrived and arrested the lot of them. This time there was no question of being let off with a caution. The magistrate sentenced Robbie and his three friends to four months at Borstal and told them they were lucky not to get the birch as well. All the local reformatories were filled to overflowing, so they were packed off to Haslar Borstal in Gosport, Hampshire. To Durham lads of that era it seemed like exile on the other side of the world and of course it ruled out all possibility of getting a visit from their families. Robbie wept as his sentence was read out and to compound his misery that day was his seventeenth birthday: 30 January 1932. His mother and father sat in court with heads bowed, wondering where they had gone wrong. Actually, Robbie really wasn't such a bad lad and he keenly regretted the shame he had brought on his family.
After a long and arduous journey Robbie and his friends eventually arrived at Haslar. It was a grey forbidding building, whose uninviting exterior was not improved by the cold drizzle of a February afternoon. They were marched off to the building which housed the shower room and ordered to stand in a line with the other new arrivals. A tall burly man with a stern expression tapped his leg with a clipboard on which there was a list of the new boys' names. Officer Barker was aptly named. He did not talk or even shout, so much as bark at the new lads in front of him. After a roll-call to ensure they were all present, it was time to make sure they were all properly washed. For some of them it would be the first shower or bath they had had in weeks and there was a distinct whiff of body odour around. After a short harangue on the necessity of personal hygiene, Barker gave the order: "Right! Strip, you little s**ts! I want every item of clothing off - now!"
Everyone but Robbie hastened to obey. Since puberty he had never stripped in public, even in front of his own family, let alone in front of all these strangers. Barker noticed him immediately.
"Are you deaf or something, boy? I said strip!"
"I can't strip in front of everyone like this!" Robbie objected.
"Watkins! This boy is having trouble getting his clothes off. Go and help him!"
Watkins grinned – not a very nice grin. He was an even larger man than Barker and weighed a good 260 pounds, nearly twice the weight of Robbie. He grabbed Robbie by the scruff of the neck and dragged him over to a chair. He then draped him over his lap like a rag doll and roughly removed his trousers. Robbie didn't wear underpants as they were too expensive. He blushed as he realised his buttocks (and everything else) were on full view to everyone. Watkins then took one of his plimsolls - a huge size 12 plimsoll – out of a nearby locker.
"I think Galloway needs a lesson in obedience, don't you think, Watkins?"
Watkins grunted and nodded.
Robbie struggled, knowing that his rear end was going to be set on fire any moment, but Watkins easily held him in place with his left arm. He lifted his right arm high and brought the plimsoll down on Robbie's right buttock with a terrific thwack! Immediately an angry red splodge appeared, contrasting sharply with Robbies very white flesh. No one got much of a suntan in Durham!
"Aargh!" yelled Robbie. The stroke was harder than anything he had ever experienced and the pain was unbearable, even worse than his father's belt. Watkins brought the plimsoll down on Robbie's left buttock. "Aargh! Yeeow! Stop, pleeeaase!"
Watkins continued with the "lesson" till Robbie had received a full dozen whacks - six on each buttock. By this time the youngster could no longer restrain his tears and was sobbing loudly. His bottom was a deep shade of crimson with several purple patches, showing extensive bruising.
Jamie had experienced some of the beating through his simulator, but he had had to switch off after the eighth stroke as he couldn't take any more. Watkins was an extremely powerful man and the sting of his huge plimsoll was horribly severe.
"Think he's learned his lesson now, guv" said Watkins.
"Are you going to be obedient, boy, or will you have to learn the hard way?" asked Barker.
"I've learned my lesson, sir!" said Robbie, and he meant it!
"Good. Let's see you strip then."
There wasn't much point in further resistance. Whatever parts of his body Robbie might have liked to conceal from the assembled company had already been on view to everyone. He quickly took off his jacket and shirt and stood just like the others as naked as the day he was born. It was freezing and his teeth, like everyone else's, started to chatter. To their relief they were ordered to step into the shower room, where mercifully there was plenty of hot water and carbolic soap to wash their bodies. Robbie winced as the hot water came into contact with his tender buttocks.
Barker and Watkins leaned round the door of the shower room to make sure everyone was behaving properly. They needn't have bothered. After Watkins' demonstration with the plimsoll, none of them felt like bucking the system – at least, not yet! Barker, however, did not like the way Robbie had disobeyed his very first order. "We're going to have trouble with that one. Too independent minded. Needs breaking. Better keep an eye on him, Watkins. Nip any rebelliousness in the bud. That's what I say, eh?"
Watkins nodded silently.
There were going to be some hard days ahead for Robbie!