"You deal with him, Frank – just as if he was one of your boys," says Chris. "His name is Ashley. Hes got a face like an angel, but hes a spoilt little brat by nature."
Let me explain. The occasion is the annual swimming match between St Crispins and Swinburn Lodge, held at St Crispins in 1977. The match is over and the teams and a few teachers are having tea from trestle tables set up just outside the swimming pool enclosure. Chris is the headmaster of Swinburn Lodge, and holds very similar views to my own on the disciplining of wayward boys. Ashley, who is standing with his hands on his head facing the wall of the pool, is in disgrace for lobbing a half-eaten doughnut over the wall into the pool, spotted by my eagle-eyed young matron Julie. He had won the Under-12 50m crawl earlier in the afternoon as it happens – a superb natural swimmer. He is still in his little light blue speedos.
I walk over to him.
"Come with me, Ashley"
He looks alarmed at this but obeys. We walk over to the Staff Changing Room, which is where I have decided to execute the sentence – a sound spanking, though he does not know this. I let him walk a few steps in front of me and I take measure of the small boy whose bare buttocks I am about to spank for the first and (alas!) almost certainly the last time. Hes a beautifully muscled little fellow, lightly tanned with shoulder length brown hair still wet from the pool. Finally he plucks up courage.
"What are young to do to me, Sir?"
"Im going to smack your bottom, Ashley," I reply easily. He looks aghast and ready to protest, but realises his case is hopeless: if he refuses punishment from me, it will certainly come to him from Chris, who is a vigourous and skilled enthusiast of the cane when punishing the boys in his school. His little mouth tightens and he regards me with ill-concealed resentment. Dont worry, young man, theres nothing I like better than chastising a rebellious-natured young schoolboy!
We reach the changing room and I stand the boy in the middle of the floor, looking down at him severely.
"Would Mr Turner spank you in wet swimming-trunks?"
He shakes his head, looking very ill at ease now.
"Nor will I," I continue, leaning down to undo the bow of the cord of his trunks. I then kneel behind him and take the hem of his speedos in both hands, preparing to bare his little bottom for his punishment. The garment is small, tight and still wet and it takes some time to ease it down over the lean buttocks of the young swimmer. First the faintest shadow of the crack between the boys bottom cheeks appears, then, inch by inch, the buttock muscles themselves start to emerge. I enjoy this slow exposure of skin, as I enjoy the feel of the smooth skin against my fingertips. Once the hem has reached the most protruding part of Ashleys nates (to use a good old-fashioned word) further progress becomes swift. Soon I have the small speedos slithering down the child's slim brown legs.
I look at the boys bare bottom with the eyes of a keen and experienced thrasher of schoolboys. Its clear it will offer a delightful spank: its a firm, beautifully defined bottom, with a tiny mole at the top of the left buttock. It's milky whiteness contrasts wonderfully with the healthy tan of rest of the child's body.
I move a chair into place and sit directly in front of my young victim, who is clutching his groin with both hands. Rejecting this silly modesty I take the boys wrists in my hands and move his arms to his side, noting the neatly circumcised little organ that they boy was attempting to conceal. I then proceed to lecture him at length about his behaviour.
Final I order him across my lap. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, I decide to put him over both knees - if I'm dealing with a wriggler like Jake I normally put him over one knee and clamp him in place with the other. He climbs nicely into position – Chris has trained him well! - with his bottom exactly in the middle of my two thighs, all areas of its pale skin easily accessible to the palm of my large right hand. I do enjoy administering a nice hard skin-on-skin hand spanking from time to time!
I look down at the small, quivering, slightly goose-pimpled bottom on which I am intending to inflict a carefully measured amount of pain, then run my hands over the soft sensitive flesh. I even lightly pinch the nearer buttock between my forefinger and thumb to get a sense of the tone of the boy's buttock muscle.
I start to spank, slightly below full strength. It's my custom to spank fairly randomly at the beginning of a sound spanking, my main objective being to make sure the entire bottom takes a few spanks to prime it for the second phase. I spank quickly and frequently, roaming at will over the boy's backside, spanking and re-spanking the same areas.
There's a special interest in beating a youngster for the first time, and noting his reactions. Every boy is different in way he responds to the necessary humiliation and pain: some (like young Jake again) are angry and resentful; a few (like that curious boy Robin Winterton) seem to get a strange thrill from the ritual of baring their backsides for a tanning. It's clear Ashley is used to submitting his bottom for punishment: there's no fuss or noise from the boy, his only reaction to my repeated and vigorous slapping of his nude body being a slight twitching in the ankles. He has pushed his head up, eyes closed, lips apart, gritted teeth - very similar to Peter Dickens when being thrashed. I spank for three or four minutes, thoroughly enjoying the punishing of the naughty child, delighting in the sound of my hand repeatedly hitting the soft, beautifully-curved young backside
Finally I pause for a few moments, putting my left hand on the boy's back to indicate that he stays down, leaving my spanking hand resting on the reddened rear-end. It is nicely primed for the second phase of a sound spanking. I look carefully at the punished young bottom in my lap, and tell the boy what to expect.
"Six more hard spanks on each side, Ashley."
"Yes, Sir," he gasps, his voice rather shaky.
"Move your bottom forward for me, please, young man"
He shuffles his body forward slightly. Perfect! The natural trajectory of my right arm will take me straight to lowest part of the little boy's bare buttocks.
"Legs nice and wide apart."
The athletic child swings his long lean legs wide apart, but I take a slim thigh in my hand and ease them even further. I eye my target, noting that I must be very careful to avoid catching the little ball-bag that has become prominently exposed between the naughty boy's legs. I begin in a completely unhurried way to complete my corporal punishment of the errant pupil, allowing 15 seconds to elapse between the full-strength spanks I am delivering to his sore, red, much-spanked bottom skin. I swing my arm as hard as I can, and am pleased now to evoke signs of real displeasure from Ashley: a squirming of the bottom and low grunts as my hand falls.
Reluctantly I deliver my final blow to the 11-year-olds bare buttocks. He lies prone in my lap, and I remember that Chris is a real stickler for detail before, during and after a beating.
"You may get up." He climbs up, the fingers of his hands laced together and a look of concentration on his face.
"You may touch your bottom if you wish." A look of relief appears and the two hands fly to the stinging backside. The child's hips are pushed forward, somehow emphasing what a fit, muscular little lad he is. Reluctantly I pick up the wet speedos and hand them to the punished boy. If lowering this tiny damp garment was a lengthy process for me, raising it is an even lengthier one for the sore-bottomed child! He quite quickly gets his boyhood organs covered, but there's an immense amount of grimacing as tugging the hem of the speedos over the beaten buttocks further inflames them. It's a most comical sight, and I wish I had my trusty 16mm cine camera running - the film would make a delightful item for a Masters of the Rod Dinner (of which distinguished organisation more later, perhaps).
Finally Ashley is clad. He looks me in the eye and extends his hand.
"Thank you for taking the trouble to discipline me, Sir."
Chris does train them beautifully! I myself tend to allow boyish nature to take its more natural course, and let the flogged youngster scuttle off without formality to inspect his wounds. Gravely my hand (still tingling from its impacts on Ashley's rear-end) shakes the boy's small hand.
"You're welcome, my boy. You may go back to the pool." As he leaves I notice a good half inch of red, nicely spanked bottom skin at the top of his thighs, protruding out of his little speedos. Splendid!