The next morning - which was suppose to be the day we left for the holidays, I woke up with a dull throbbing pain in my backside - instantly reminding me what was in store for me over the next five weeks.

My two room-mates, John and Craig, were both just getting up, and finishing up their packing. We went off the shower and get dressed. We compared stripes as we showered. They had just 6 thin lines, which were already fading, whereas my butt was covered in angry red weals which were turning into nasty bruises.

Once dressed we made our way down to breakfast. The main dining room was filled with the unique good-humour over several hundred school-boys in a very good mood. The duty prefect told me that the Headmaster had said I was to report for special class at 10:30 in room D3, after moving into the junior dorm.

So we ate breakfast in near silence, and returned to our room. I had to pack the stuff I need to take over to the dorm. I also said farewell to my friends. Having them there, alongside me when I was getting thrashed, somehow made it all the more bearable. We had all been beaten so much that we had learnt to support one another. Now I was being left alone, with a secret responsibility for a bunch of juniors , and no prospect of spending a fun holiday with my best friends - chatting up girls, exploring the great outdoors, and exploring the night-life in the city. At 16 there was nothing more important to me.

So, I was quite downcast as I packed my duffel-bag with some clothes and trudged over to the Junior dorm. I left much stuff in my regular room, as I thought it would be easy to nip over there to get things when I needed them. Boy was I wrong about that ! Anyway, I trudged into the room. My bum was still sore, and walking across the school was painful, so my bad mood was deepening.

I dumped my bag on the bed in the prefect's alcove. I had been told I would be allowed that privilege - seeing I was the oldest. I looked into the big dorm, all the beds had a lad unpacking stuff on it. No-one was in a good mood. Everyone was upset. They all looked like they were suffering some pain too - no doubt the Head and really laid into them after I had gone.

Phillips, one of the older lads - he was 15, and had got into scrapes with me before, came over and asked me how I was .

"Bloody sore" was my curt reply.

"Yeah me too" was his heartfelt reply.

"What'd you get ?" I asked.

"Twelve with the regular senior cane" he said, " not as bad as you, but still pretty bad"

"Yeah" , I said with some sympathy. Although I decided to share with him the extra little caning I'd got later that night.

I then turned to him, realising that Phillips would be a big help to me in fulfilling my secret assignment. I still couldn't believe that the Headmaster was offering to make me a Prefect, but having that position in my senior year would sure make it more fun !

I grabbed Phillips by the arm and said "Listen mate, we need to stick together over this special school"

He looked at me askance and asked "What do you mean ?"

"I mean all us guys have to stick together" I said " otherwise the Head'll just turns us against one another, so he can beat us all the more"

"I guess ... " he said uncertainly.

"Look" I pleaded " do you want your backside whacked all day, and everyday of this holiday?"

"No" he said emphatically.

"Well then," I added "we guys are going to have to co-operate to make sure we don't make things worse for ourselves"

"I 'supose" he said. I was pleased he was at least considering my point of view. I would need his help in getting the younger boys to co-operate.

I patted him on the shoulder, saying "Let's talk later, we'd better get going". It was nearly 10:30. I called out to the other guys that we'd better get going, and headed out of the dorm.

Most of us arrived at the dreaded room D3 with a few minutes to spare. The few boys still waiting at school for transport home jeered as we made our way into the room. The Head was waiting at the front of the room. Each desk had a large file of papers on it, as well as a name. I looked around and found the one with my name on it, and sat at that desk. I winced as my tender backside impacted with the hard chair.

The Head said "Feel free to look through your packs". So I opened the file, and saw to my dismay a planned work programme which would fill the entire holiday. It covered all my school subjects, and included time for me to work out in the school grounds re-painting the equipment shed I'd defaced. It was more work than normal school, and it would certainly ensure that I was ahead of the class when the next term began.

I was so engrossed in looking through the pack, I hadn't noticed the passage of time. The Head was standing at the front, looking impatient. I looked around the room and saw all the guys, but one, hard at work looking through their assignment packs. I then looked at the clock - it was 10:45. Young Williams was dangerously late !

Suddenly the whole room turned at the clatter of heavy shoes running down the corridor, as Williams skidded into the room, out of breath and dishevelled.

"Sorry sir " he wheezed. " I lost track of time"

"You're not sorry yet boy," said the Head, ominously "but you will be".

"Sir ?" queried Williams, who was a notoriously querulous 14 year old Rugby player. He was a stocky, muscular 5'6", and had recently gone through a growth burst, so all his clothes were a bit too tight.

"Get yourself up here !" barked the Head, clearly fed up with arguing. At this it obviously dawned on Williams that he was about to get it.

"But sir ... " he whined.

'"No buts Williams, the discipline in this school will be severe and swift" intoned the Head, as Williams made his way up to the desk, and assumed the "position" lying across it, stretched out, to grab the far side (he wasn't tall enough to reach the blackboard).

He was in standard school uniform, grey shorts and a light blue shirt - although his trousers were showing signs of giving way at the seems, and this shirt wasn't tucked in properly, and his socks were down around his ankles. He also seemed to be covered in dust.

"You look a disgrace Williams, so you'll get extra strokes for that", said the Head.

I watched in rapt silence as he bent over, his muscular backside being tightly shown-off by his "butt-hugging" shorts. I quite enjoyed watching others getting caned, particularly when I was not at any risk of getting it myself !.

"I'm giving you six for being late, and another four for your appearance and poor attitude, that's a total of ten - Williams"

"Yes sir" he said fearfully.

"Do you accept that you deserve them ?" the Head asked

"Yes sir" mumbled Williams, clearly on the verge of tears already.

"Good" boomed the Head " now, I'm going to graduate you to the regular senior cane for this, and every other caning, instead of the lighter one you are used to".

This sent a gasp rippling among the younger boys who had assumed they'd on receive the familiar whacks of the junior cane.

"Silence!" yelled the Head, who took up position to the left of Williams' backside, and swung the cane experimentally. It swished through the silence. He tapped it against Willaims butt, and said "Williams, let's have your legs further apart".

Once all was ready the Head asked "Are you ready?". Williams mumbled in the affirmative. So the Head said "OK, here it comes boy, count each one - and remember that if you mis-count you forfeit the stroke, and if you move you get extra"

With that the Head tapped the centre of Williams backside lightly, and drew back the cane, and whacked it into the boy.

THWACK. "Owwww" howled Williams "that's one".

And so it continued. The strokes whacked into Williams bum. He howled with pain and sobbed and begged for leniency, but he only miscounted once , and didn't move. He took it very well - considering.

The tenth stroke had hit the boy's bum. He was quivering with the pain, and tears were flowing freely. The Head examined his handiwork - 11 lines clearly etched across the boy's backside in his tight trousers.

"You may stand" said the Head, as Williams, slowly and painfully stood-up. As his butt straightened you could see his shorts bunch around his bum, as they had ridden-up his legs while he was bent over. He pulled the legs down, smoothing the fabric over his backside, which was still as clearly defined. Williams gingerly touched his obviously sore butt, as the Head said "let this be a lesson to all of you, there will be no leniency in this class, at any time - now Williams go and sit in your place, and we can begin".

I watched as Williams - tears still streaking his face, limped down to his place and gingerly sat down.

The class settled down as the Head proceeded to talk us through our work timetables. We all would have very little time to make any trouble - but it was obvious that, if we did, a sore backside would be the consequence.

To be continued....