When I joined the scouts as a young boy of eleven, I quickly learned about an old camp tradition, (now outlawed) called the "stake out". The ceremony was reserved in the main for boys attending their first camp and was, I suppose, a form of initiation ceremony.
The unfortunate boy would be jumped upon by his fellow scouts, stripped of clothes, usually down to underwear, sometimes completely naked, and then tied spread-eagled, either between two trees or to four stakes or tent pegs driven into the ground. The captive would then be subjected to various indignations, such as being daubed with boot polish or food slops then left tied up for an undetermined period of time until the leaders finally took pity and released him. The severity of the "stake out" seemed to vary considerably from troop to troop, but always ended with the victim helpless and humiliated. My own "stake-out" involved a rather unusual spanking, the like of which I have rarely seen since.
The Stake-out
I remember on my first camp that there were two "new" boys, myself and my friend Gavin, We were resigned to the fact that we would be "got" at some point, so just had to wait for it to happen. I was the first to fall victim just two days into camp. A gang of about six of the older boys jumped me after lunch, dragging me struggling and cursing off into the trees followed excitedly by the rest of the troop. The leaders, (as was normal on these occasions) made themselves scarce. Two ropes had already been strung tightly between a couple of large chestnut trees one just above head height and one at ground level. As soon as I had been divested of my shirt and vest, my hands were tied firmly to the highest rope. My shoes, socks and trousers quickly followed, then after a brief pause someone stepped forward placed two fingers in the waistband of my y-fronts and dropped them to the floor. I hadn't been expecting this. I was already painfully aware that I was not the most well endowed boy of my age, and from the laughter that ensued from my de-pantsing, my fellow scouts clearly held a similar opinion. To my deep shame, and the amusement of all present, my small hairless willy was not of a length sufficient to hang down as most boys did, instead two pathetic inches of foreskin stuck out ridiculously at right-angles to my body. As my legs were forcefully spread apart and tied securely to the lower rope, I realised the meaning of true humiliation.
Over the next half hour my head, upper body and genitals were liberally decorated with an assortment of revolting substances, boot polish, tomato sauce, flour, shaving foam, baked beans etc. The whole group cheered and clapped at each new humiliation. One scout even grabbed hold of my tiny dick, pulling it up painfully while he coated my balls liberally with boot polish. Finally, Just as I thought my ordeal was ending, one of the patrol leaders stepped forward and announced the "final test".
There were hushed whispers as everyone who knew what was to come, gathered around me excitedly. One of the older boys walked to the edge of the clearing, stooped down and, using the sleeve of his jacket, gingerly plucked the complete stem of a tall stinging nettle. At this point my fragile composure faltered and I began crying and struggling wildly at my bonds. As the boy walked slowly around behind me, I screamed and cursed at my captors, but this just made them laugh even more.
A soft swish and sudden fire in my behind signalled the start of "the final test". "One" The patrol leader called out as the nettle landed squarely across my pale buttocks. "Two" The group joined in the count as the second painful stroke landed. "Three" Each stroke sent a searing shooting pain though every nerve in my body. "Four" My backside was really on fire now as another landed across both cheeks. "Five" A thousand needles jabbed at my tender behind as tears began to flow freely from my eyes. "Six" the final stroke landed right at the top of my thighs causing me to scream in pain.
They each came in turn to study the bright red mass of nettle stings that now covered my pale behind. For the assembled group, the entertainment was now almost over, but for me the pain continued long after. As I stood their bound and helpless, the fire burned uncontrollably in my behind, coming in waves. When the leaders finally came to release me, I desperately tried to relieve my stinging behind by rubbing it, but this just sent new waves of pain through my body. I took a hot shower to clean myself up, but the heat made the pain return again in earnest. Every time I sat down it started again with a vengeance. Although it lessened gradually with time, it was over six hours before the stinging had diminished into a bearable but still very uncomfortable irritation.
During my remaining time in the troop I witnessed many more "stakeouts" similar to my own. I have to admit that on each occasion, I always pushed the experience of my own humiliation to the back of my mind, as I excitedly enjoyed and revelled in the misery and degradation of another fellow scout.
Most of my friends who attended the local scout troops still have clear recollections of these "ceremonies". I am interested to know whether the "stake out" is something peculiar to my part of England. Has anyone heard of or witnessed similar happenings amongst boys anywhere else?
Caned1@excite. com