The third part of the story is related by Mr Rakham, Colinger's headmaster.
Several years after the events described in this tale Collinger told me the full story...and I must admit I found it pretty amazing...but I still think I was right to attempt to change his nature by brute force, even though now homo_s_e_x_uality is pretty well accepted and even the erotic enjoyment of pain would only raise a few very staid eyebrows.
My first duty was of course to prepare a good solid birch for the first installment of Collinger's final punishment. I had actually never used a birch on any of my boys as I thought it too severe but now I was convinced that nothing should be spared to save Collinger from himself.
I had been brought up by my uncle in the Isle of Man in the 20's and as chief island magistrate he had sentenced many a juvenile criminal to the birch and on one occasion I was taken along with him to witness one of these punishments as a deterrent for any mad-cap schemes I might of had. The young man to be punished was about eighteen and well-built and was to receive the maximum number of strokes 18, for blackmailing several other boys and beating them up when they reported him to the police. I vividly remember my excitement as I watched the burly police officer whose duty it was to carry out the birching as he unceremoniously pulled the offender's trousers and pants down to his knees and strapped him onto the birching bench. Once the victim was securely in position the officer took off his uniform jacket and shirt remaining only in his cotton singlet. I remember that he was remarkably hairy chested and his beefy arms were also well covered with curly dark brown hairs. he then retrieved the birch from a large tube containing brine, which at the time I thought was an umbrella-stand, and shook the excess water off it. The Isle of Man birch is a much more formidable weapon than the more commonly used prison version. It is made of three or four long flexible switches bound together for a about a foot's length at the handle end. The overall effect is more like a bundle of thin canes than birch twigs.....and I can vouch for its efficiency. The lads who received its attention never needed a second dose!! The police officer then proceeded to loosen up his right shoulder giving the birch a few trial swishes through the air....the sound produced was more of a hiss than the swishing 'whuup' produced by a cane...but it certainly frightened the already terrified victim on the bench. My uncle had told me that the officer who wielded the birch had himself been birched as a teenager and so knew exactly what he was doing....and applied all his strength to his task, as he considered himself to have been saved by his own experience from a life of violence and petty crime. As the first stroke literally cut into the flesh of the solid buttocks stretched accross the bench leaving four bloody streaks in the centre of the target area, the unfortunate victim let out a yell of painful protest and writhed against the straps which kept him in position. I was horrified but also excited and fascinated, the police officer took plenty of time to line himself up for the next stroke which he delivered with a grunt of force. The young man yelled even louder and four more bloody stripes appeared accross his well-developed muscular buttocks. As the burly half naked man warmed to his task the room became infused with the acrid smell of fresh sweat. My uncle counted the strokes out loud and for the next quarter of an hour the room rang with the repeated hiss and crack of the viscious birch rod, the grunts of effort of the officer and the desparate screams of the young criminal. At last it was over and the lad was released and given an enamel bowl of water and a sponge with which to clean away the blood from his massacred backside and the police officer towelled the sweat off his muscular body before putting his uniform back on.
But I digress... I was intending only to say that I knew well enough how to prepare a more than satisfactory birch rod in the same style as the Isle of Man model. I selected four hazel switches and cut them to a length of about 4 ft...then having left them to soak for a couple of days I carefully peeled them and bound the ends together with some strong twine which also provided a comfortable handle. I then replaced them in a brine mixture to soak and become even more supple in preparation for their use.
The day fixed for Collinger's birching was a Monday.... I thought after morning prayers would be a suitable time, but I was still undecided whether to birch him in front of the whole school or in private. Eventually I decided on a private beating in the gym, where I could get Sergeant-major Jones to hold him down over a vaulting horse and have the punishment witnessed by Colinger's housemaster. I have to admit that during morning prayers I couln't keep my mind off what I was going to do immediately afterwards.
"I want to see Colinger in the gym immediately after prayers." I announced...feeling my heart begining to beat faster.
Ten minutes later the players in our little drama were assembled in the gym. Colinger was a good-looking lad and I could quite see why the despicable Browning had done what he had done, and now he was looking remarkably calm, considering what he was in for.
"Sergeant-major Jones would you please drag a vaulting horse into the middle of the room....and you Colinger kindly remove all your clothes." I had thought that this would be an extra humiliation for him, but he stripped off without showing the least embarassment. "Now I want you to lie across the end of the horse with your legs down each side and Sergeant -major Jones will hold you in position for the duration of your punishment. As I told you I am going to give you 24 strokes of the birch... so that you will never forget what you were doing with Mr Browning and I trust will never do such a thing again."
"I am ready for my well-deserved punishment, Sir." said the boy with a surprisingly firm voice as he got himself into position.
I took off my jacket and undid my shirt cuffs before collecting my home-made birch from its saline bath in the corner of the gym. I returned shaking the excess water off its four switches just as I had seen the police officer do all those years ago. For a moment I thought that perhaps I should have asked the Sergeant-major to deliver the punishment as he was much younger and stronger than me....but I have to admit I was actually looking forward to inflicting what I considered a perfectly fair and neccessary punishment. I took up position behind the naked buttocks presented to me, which still sported the unmistakable signs of the Sergeant-majors caning although the bruises were now quite faint. I raised the birch and brought it down with as much force as I could muster across the muscular globes in front of me. The high-pitched swish of the birch was followed by a sort of crack-cum-splat and the boys legs shot out behind him as he yelled in agony and four vivid red lines appeared over the feint purple marks and almost immediately began to ooze blood in several places.
"Will you kep count please Sergeant-major?" I asked as I took up position for the second stroke.
"One " boomed the deep voice of the large man struggling to hold the writhing boy still.
I waited for the yell to subside into panting and groaning and for the legs to return to their straddled position before saying. "No amount of wriggling or yelling is going to soften my intent to hurt you as much as I can, Colinger. So you may as well resign youself to a very painful qurter of an hour. I expect you will carry the marks of this and the remainder of your beatings for several years if not for the rest of your life....but you've only yourself to blame." I then raised the birch for the second stroke....the effect was if anything even more devastating....the boy writhed in agony and let out a real yell which I felt would probably give him a sore throat to add to his troubles. Blood was now visible along the full length of most of the stripes, although the skin wasn't yet actually lacerated.
"Two" boomed the Sergeant-major, who seemed to me to be enjoying his task rather more than was neccessary.
I have to admit that I too was rather satisfied at the damage a man of my age could cause on a firm young bottom. I smashed the birch into the target for the third stroke with much the same result as the first two. I hardly heard the Sergeant-majors call as I was intent on preparing for the fourth stroke. Colinger was groaning and yelling at each stroke but he was not actually crying yet which I satisfied me because as long as there was any sign of defiance I felt myself justified in continuing to thrash the boy as hard as I could.
When the count reached twelve I decided that I needed a rest and although Colinger's yells were still full throated enough I didn't want him to pass out on us. His bottom was now a bloody mess and rivulets of blood were begining to trickle down his thighs, so I asked the Sergeant-major to take a towel and clean him up a bit, which he did quite gently so as not to aggravate more than absolutly neccessary the agony the boy was obviously experiencing. Colinger just lay along the horse breathing heavily and shaking slightly but he was still definately not crying. I thought to myself "He may be a pansy in the making but he's _d_a_m_n_ tough!!"
"Are you ready to continue with the second half of your punishment, Colinger?" I asked swishing the birch through the air.
"Yes, Sir I'm ready." replied the boy a little shakily, but without hesitation.
I now decided on giving the remaining twelve strokes in quicker time to avoid the flowing of too much blood. But after the eighteenth stroke blood began to be spattered across the gym floor with each successive stroke and Colinger began to shake uncontrollably and moan continually between his shrieks as each stroke fell. However I kept my word to continue the beating with all my force right up to the twenty-fourth stoke.
When it was over I told the Sergeant-major to clean up the boys backside and help him to Matron's surgery for some haemostatic ointment.
"Colinger, you've taken your punishment very bravely you may spend the morning in bed to recover if you wish" I said as I pulled on my jacket.
"Thank you, Sir. But I'll be back in class as soon as Matron's finished with me... although I shall require permission to remain standing." he added with a weak grin.
As we walked accross the quad towards the classrooms Colinger's housemaster said he needed to go to his room for a tot of brandy as he wasn't feeling too well. In fact he looked awful...I'm afraid he doesn't approve of corporal punishment, perhaps I should have asked Reverend Woodston to act as witness as I know he would have relished the opportunity to see some serious old-fashioned discipline. (To be continued.)