Tim stared out the window. It was the last class of the day, too fine a Friday afternoon to focus on the nuances of French grammar.
The 13 year old wanted to be outside, playing ball, riding his bike, doing anything but sitting in a stuffy old class. He hated the class and he hated his teacher. Tim had found Albert Messier's reputation as one of the more sadistic masters to be well deserved. He used the cane and the strap for the slightest infraction and his punishments were administered mercilessly.
"I'm waiting, Mr Carlton-Black." The voice was icy. Tim looked up from his daydream to see a furious teacher standing by his desk and glaring down at him.
"Apparently, you think that neither the class nor I are worthy of your attention," Messier said coldly. "I think an attitude adjustment is in order. Come with me-now."
Tim was riveted to his seat with fear. He knew that 'attitude adjustment' was code for a most severe thrashing, and he dreaded what he was about to face.
Messier yanked him by the collar of his jacket and half marched, half dragged him to the front of the room. He directed Tim over to the large wooden desk.
"Jacket off and assume the position, Mr Carlton-Black," he said.
Tim leaned over the desk. "Trousers and pants off," Messier said.
Tim looked at him pleadingly. "Please sir- no," he started.
"Are you questioning me?" Messier asked in a threatening tone. "If I'm forced to repeat myself, your punishment is automatically doubled."
Tim fought back tears. He removed his jacket and laid it across the desk. Then he unzipped his grey slacks and let them drop to his ankles. With the greatest reluctance, he slid his boxers off his slim hips and leaned over the desk. His _c_o_c_k_ pressed against the side and his face was crimson.
He heard loud snickers coming from two boys in the front row as he waited, bent over the desk, pink bottom exposed, vulnerable.
"I suggest you hold on tightly," Messier said. Tim grabbed on to the edge of the desk.
He felt the cane brush lightly across his bottom. And then he felt it connect and he gasped with the pain. The first cut was aimed directly across the middle of his bum. And then Tim screamed as the next cut landed in the exquisitely sensitive crease between bum and thigh. Messier repeated the strokes, each cut placed directly over the cut before it, and Tim screamed in pain at each fresh welt.
After four more strokes, Messier turned his attention to Tim's bottom, on which a bright red welt had appeared. He drew back his arm to access his full strength, and laid the cane forcefully across the sobbing boy's rear. Stripe after stripe began to appear. Red welts covered the pale skin. Tim was screaming and sobbing with each fresh cut. "Please," he begged. "No more. I'm sorry," he managed in a high pitched wail.
Tim held onto the desk as tightly as he could, even though his bum burned like it was on fire, and each new stroke of the cane sent agonising waves of pain over his body. He knew that the penalty for getting up before the punishment was completed meant that it would be repeated.
Tim sobbed and screamed as Messier continued to cover his bottom with welts. This was the worst whipping he'd ever had. Finally, it was over. Tim was a mass of pain filled, burning nerve endings and purple bruises, and red welts covered his bottom. He dressed as quickly as he could, no longer caring about the humiliation of a bare bum caning in front of his classmates. All he was conscious of was the fiery, explosive pain in his rear.
Tim turned to Messier. "Please, sir," he asked tearfully. "Can I stand for the remainder of the class?" He was almost begging. To sit on the hard wooden chair was more than his well beaten bottom could endure.
Messier looked at the sniffling boy in front of him. It was always immensely satisfying to deliver well deserved punishment. His _c_o_c_k_ had begun to twitch, and he could feel himself getting hard. "Go to the back of the room."
Tim painfully made his way to the rear of the class and held on to a desk for support.
"Now- Mr Jennings and Mr Anderson- come forward," Messier boomed.
John Jennings and Philip Anderson looked at each other. They were two of the most popular boys in the form handsome, athletic, good students. But they both had a definite sense of self importance and were known for lording it over their fellows. They considered themselves untouchable. Jennings was captain of the Under 15 rugby squad and Anderson was an A level tennis player.
That these two fine specimens were the ones who had snickered most loudly as Carlton-Black had prepared for his punishment was not lost on Messier.
The boys walked to the front of the room and stood there.
"You found Mr Carlton-Black's predicament amusing, did you now?" Messier asked.
Jennings and Anderson exchanged glances. As much as they wanted to deny it, they knew how much worse the punishment would be if they lied. Messier valued honesty most highly, and if he caught a boy in a lie... It was well known that one of the 5th formers had spent time in the infirmary and carried permanent scars on his bum from the caning he had received after being caught lying to the French master.
"Yes sir,' they replied in unison.
'Alright, gentlemen," Messier said. "You know what to do. Jennings first."
Jennings started to lean over the desk. "Oh no," Messier said. "Bare bottom."
The boy complied reluctantly. "Hold him down, Mr Anderson," Messier said.
"I'm sorry," Anderson whispered as he pressed his mate's shoulders firmly against the desk.
Messier picked up the cane. He walked over to the boy who was leaning across the desk with his eyes closed. The cane struck in the crease and the boy cried out. Again and again, Messier aimed the cane strokes in the same location, producing agonising pain. Jennings screamed as he felt each fresh stroke and his entire body shook. He clenched his buttocks tightly in an unsuccessful attempt to lessen the intensity of the pain.
By the 12th and final stroke, small drops of blood were visible, and Jennings' screams had grown in volume and intensity. Messier's erection had grown too.
Anderson helped his mate dress. His own normally ruddy face was pale with fear. Painfully and tearfully, Jennings limped back to his seat and then kneeled on the chair. He lowered his head to the desk and fought to stop the tears.
"Mr Anderson- take your position."
The boy dropped his trouser and boxers. He leaned over the desk, reached for the edge and held on tightly. He heard a cabinet door being opened and shut, and then there was a collective gasp from the other students.
Anderson turned his head, and his heart began to pound with fear. He saw Messier carrying a heavy leather strap with four braided leather tails at one end. He sucked in his breath and closed his eyes tightly. He cried out as the whip was laid hard against his bottom and four welts appeared. It was applied forcefully four more times, each stroke accompanied by a scream of pain from the boy as welts were laid over welts.
Messier hid his pleasure as he admired his handiwork. None of them would be able to sit down for days. Their well striped arses were a thing of beauty, and would also serve as a reminder to the others, that in this classroom, discipline would be enforced.
Anderson tearfully dressed as the bell, which signalled the end of class, sounded.
Tim painfully walked back to his desk and gathered up his books. He looked at Jennings and Anderson, each in tears and sporting stripes as well, and smiled to himself. As much as he hurt, he was pleased that they too had been punished. That it was for laughing at him, only made the feeling more pleasurable.
By the time the last of the stragglers had exited, Messier's erection had become increasingly uncomfortable, and relief was urgent. He opened his jacket and saw a wet spot on his trousers where pre-cum was leaking through. He was glad that the looseness of the trousers and the length of the jacket covered all signs of his arousal. It would never do for anyone to learn just how much pleasure he derived from the administration of punishment. All those lucious pink mounds, just waiting for the application of the cane or the strap.
God- he felt he could explode right there. That would never do. Messier hurriedly made his way into the staff toilet and shut a stall door. A few strokes were all that he needed to come. thank god he was the only one here. No one had heard his groans of pleasure as he climaxed. He cleaned himself off and adjusted his clothing.
This had been an absolutely wonderful way to end the week. But with a bit of luck, maybe the weekend would be even better!