Story :
I was a pupil at medium sized, rural village primary school in the 1950's in England and corporal punishment was taken for granted. Our class of girls and boys around the ages of 9 or 10 had a Mr Jones as form master. He was probably in his early thirties (children often have little idea of the true age of adults !) demobilised from the army only a year or two earlier and (to us) very large and fit. The school was late Victorian with high ceilings and tall windows which opened at the top with a pole. Desks were arranged formally in rows. They were iron-framed with oak lifting tops, an ink-well and a counterbalanced lifting seat. I sat next to my friend Michael on the back row. We considered this a privilege, as troublemakers had to sit near to the front.
On the fateful day a new book was being distributed around the class. This was quite an event as those were times of general deprivation . Being at the back of the class meant we were the last to receive the books. There was one short and Michael was empty-handed. He made a grab for my book. There was a loud ripping noise and before we realised what had happened, the book was in two halves on the desk in front of us. The gasps of horror from the boys and girls around us attracted "Sirs" attention. He strode up the classroom to tower over us. "You two boys will remain behind at the end of school", he said severely.
The remainder of the afternoon seemed to pass in a haze. What on earth would happen to us for committing such a heinous crime! Minor misdemeanours were routinely dealt with by a couple of strokes of the strap on each hand but we knew that there was a cane hanging up inside the big cupboard The bell sounded for the end of school and our classmates filed happily out. Michael and I remained at our desks. Sir was marking books. Finally he motioned for us to come forward. "Take off your blazers", he said, "and then stand with your hands on your head facing the blackboard. I am going to see Miss Saltmarsh." (she was the headmistress of the school). We both stood there as told. In the distant playground we could hear the shouts of our friends as they made their way home. Most of the younger children would be met by their mothers outside the school gate but "big" boys and girls always walked home alone or with friends. Mothers vied with each other in turning out their children immaculately and our Mums were no exceptions. Black shoes were polished every evening , long grey socks with a red band at the top pulled up with the ribs straight –in the morning at least, scrupulously ironed grey shorts and shirt and white vest and briefs clean every day.
Sir seemed to be gone for ages but finally he strode into the room. "Turn around and you can put your hands down"."Miss Saltmarsh agrees that you shall be severely punished". He retrieved the cane from the cupboard and swished it through the air. It was about three feet long and very whippy. He pointed it at Michael and indicated that he stand in front of a desk in the front row. Laying down the cane he moved behind him and pulled the back of his shirt out of his shorts. He then put his hand inside the back of the shorts and grasping Michaels underpants he lifted him up and draped him over the desk. The toes of his shoes just about touched the ground and his shorts were of course tightly stretched around his bottom. Sir stood to the side and placed the cane across the middle of his bottom. Raising it there was swish and then a THWUPP as it made contact. A gasp could be heard from the far side of the desk. The next stroke was a little lower, THWUPP, and unmistakable sounds of crying followed. The third stroke was placed right at the top of the legs, and the next seemed to be in the same place, THRUPP. Michael yelled at this point and his hands flew back to try to cover his bottom. Sir delicately flicked his hands with the cane and the hands disappeared again. Sir delivered the last strokes in swift succession diagonally across both cheeks, THWACK, THWUUP and Michael yelled loudly. He was told to stand with his hands on his head in front of the blackboard. Now he could watch through tearfilled eyes as I received my punishment.
Sir propelled me to the front of the desk with his hand on my neck. Pushing me slightly forward over the desk, I felt my shirt pulled out and then his hand on the back of my briefs. Suddenly I was lifted up and laid forward over the desk. I felt my underpants wedged painfully up my bottom and was also frighteningly aware that only the thin cloth of my shorts now protected me from that cane.. It seemed to be an age that I lay there. Sir was obviously in no hurry. I grasped the desks folding seat and it moved down so that it lay just in front of my face. The wood was highly polished by generations of shifting bottoms. The time had come as I felt the cane laid gently on the middle of my rear. I bit my knuckles determined that I was going to be braver than Michael. A swish and a crack and I exhaled. It had hardly hurt at all. Then the pain arrived. It was like a tremendously hot flood which swept right through my bottom and to the front of my body. I gasped and bit my hand harder. THWUP! Hell I could never survive this. THRUP! Right at the top of my legs. Suddenly the tears were flowing and I knew that I couldn't control myself. The last strokes were accompanied by my yells as I bawled my head off. I next remember being at my friends side with my hands on my head and both of us sobbing our tears.
Sir went back to his desk and resumed his marking. In a while he came over to us, took out a large handkerchief, dried our eyes and blew our noses. "I hope that was a lesson you will never forget. When your Mother finds out why you are late home I expect she'll give you another hiding. Now go – and stay out of trouble."
Needless to say, neither of our mothers found out, although I nearly gave the game away when I sat down to dinner and winced!
Title : Tornbook 1 Author : LECRON Sender_url : none Author_email :lecron@talk21.com