When we got back to my dad's house he was happily making sawdust out in his woodworking shop so the kid and I got our stuff packed up and headed for home after thanking Dad for his hospitality. We had a lot to talk about on the trip back and most of it was about our discovery that we could indeed give each other a pretty good spanking. Not to mention the fun we had afterwards.
We got a pretty good relationship going outside of the office as well as the ongoing one in the office and most nights would find the two of us at my house. The kid lives in an apartment and had nosy neighbors who most likely would comment on strange noises coming from his apartment, at my house there was not that problem. It is a good amount of fun to watch a nice white behind turning red and we both found that although we did enjoy being the receiver of a spanking better than the donor we were quite capable of playing the heavy in the different games that we thought up.
Although just getting or giving a spanking is fun in itself, it does become much more interesting if there is a 'reason' for the spanking and there tended to be a bad boy in my house at all times, sometimes me, sometimes the kid. The person playing the boy that night was under the strict governance of the adult and had to do what he told him to do just like it used to be between my father and me. And all other fathers and sons back in my time for that matter. You never asked why you were getting a spanking, you just knew why without any explanations being necessary. You also never asked what right he had to spank you, that was a father's right and duty and that was that.
The kid had a bit of a guilt thing when it came to masturbation, a pretty common thing among younger boys especially ones that attended church on a regular basis, anything that feels this good must be bad, after all. This gave us a built in reason for a spanking at any time, I'd just 'catch' him playing with himself. If you look in the patent office you will find hundreds of 'anti-masturbation' devices that were patented over the years so I am sure that there were many, many, spankings given for that horrible crime. Back in Victorian times spankings on older boys tended to be pretty brutal things all told with strap, stick and horse whip being applied with great vigor. A riding quirt that would make a thousand pound horse pay attention worked wonders on a boy's naked butt and welts and cuts were just the price you paid for your crime and caused absolutely no comment from anyone except possibly a frown at the boy that received the spanking for his misbehavior. Some fathers didn't stop with the boy's ass, either.
I don't think I need to say that we didn't get anywhere near that heavy in any of our spankings, bare hand were the rule of the day most of the time for it was the process of being spanked that was important and by no means the pain of the spanking itself. This does not mean that the belt wasn't licked across a bare bum fairly often or even the old hairbrush that I had found at a flea market, both items were used with enjoyment by both but only when they fit the scenario du jour.
You know, I must have caught that kid playing with himself in just about every room of the house though for the most part his hand exercises tended to occur in the bathroom or the spare bedroom which had been made over to a certain extent as a kid's bedroom. I had always meant to furnish it anyhow and now got a twin bed set with bureau and a nice student desk with sturdy chair. Quite a few spankings were given with the spanker sitting in that chair.
Most of the time I would catch the kid in the bathroom, however, it was just what we enjoyed the most. He would either be sitting on the toilet with his legs spread wide and eyes closed stiff willie in hand or else in the shower.
The shower is of course the place of choice to whack off, I mean you are alone most of the time, it is private and all evidence of your 'crime' will be washed down the drain, a little soap, some warm water pouring over your body and a woody and you are in business. Of course the toilet comes in handy as well, after getting to the point of no return you can swiftly turn and let fly into the bowl and then flush the evidence away. All told the bathroom is a good place to whack off and one of the few places that a certain amount of nudity is needed and expected. Privacy is normally assured as well. That is unless someone else really, really needs to use the toilet big time....
That is not far fetched at all. When I was a kid we only had one bathroom in the house and it didn't even have a shower, just a claw-foot tub. I can remember more than once Dad coming into the room to take a pee or even once a sit down when I was in the tub and I sure did the same thing when he was taking a bath but most of the time I would end up in the tub with him. When he remodeled the house and put in the multiple bathrooms that pretty much stopped but it was still possible for someone to walk in if the other rooms were in use.
I guess that Dad's thing for bathrooms rubbed off on me for when I bought the old house that I live in it had just one dinky little bath, a shower, toilet and sink. It now has three of them, one for the guest rooms upstairs, an enormous bath off of the master bedroom with all the goodies, Jacuzzi, multi-head shower big enough for about five to fit in, all the niceties. Even the downstairs 'powder room' has something unusual for a private house, it has a urinal that folds into the wall when not in use. I saw it when I was doing the work and thought it was neat so I bought it and installed it. I don't know that I've used the toilet downstairs more than a couple of times over the years, my sit down work I tend to do in my bath off of my bedroom, mostly I use the downstairs bathroom to pee. Boy, hasn't that urinal taken a workout when I've had a beer party! It probably earned its keep with water saved per flush. Yes, by the way, we worked that urinal into a masturbation scene with the kid as well.
Most of the time the kid would be naked in the big glass shower in my bathroom, all soaped and washing his willie vigorously when I'd walk in wearing just my underpants to take a leak. We had two major games we liked to play from there, in one I'd doff shorts and get into the shower with him and take him underneath my arm and spank him right there with the water spraying down on his fanny, by the way, that is pretty cool because you can cup an entire ass cheek in your hand with each slap, or I'd haul him out and take his soapy, wet body over my knees while I sat on the toilet. Either way he'd get his wet behind dried off from heat, though it did take a lot longer in the shower.
I used to play the naughty boy in these scenarios as well on occasion, I guess the kid was more than happy to spank me for playing with myself as well. I really don't know if Dad would actually have spanked me for masturbation, he did once for my peering up another guy's ass, but I seriously doubt he would have spanked me for whacking off. Unless I did it at the dining table...
Of course the lesson taught against masturbation kind of went out the window just as soon as an ass was red for that was what always followed a spanking, either that or something quite a bit more intimate and probing shall we say. We both had our HIV test and came back negative but continued to use condoms most of the time just because it was part of our game we were playing. Rolling on the condom and lubricating it just added to the suspense and prolonged it.
Some nights we just went right for the gold, or red as this case might be. Instead of playing games we just would go to my room and strip and then very simply take turns spanking each other, I used to call it 'fanny foreplay' because it sure made both of us horny and ready to go.
Not to say that we would jump into the second part of our games right away, sometimes it was just good enough to just be hanging with another guy with similar interests. Just because we happened to be naked and sporting red asses didn't mean all that much. Believe it or not we used to talk about work sometimes and projects that were going a bit hard while sitting on our sore fannies on my couch sipping a beer or drink.
The kid and I were also getting quite a collection of spanking videos which we would watch for enjoyment and sometimes inspiration, we got a few ideas from those tapes. Now although there was no doubt that these so called 'boys' were getting spanked for it is hard to fake a white ass turning red, their reaction to the severity of what they were getting was a howl sometimes. I mean a rough, tough biker dude all dressed in leather getting his leather pants lowered and being spanked across someone's knees with a doubled over belt and begging for mercy and sobbing after six or so stripes? Due to the nature of these videos it was very unlikely indeed that anyone was actually getting his butt busted against his will, I'm sure that there are many guys out that there that are willing to get tanned while being filmed. It is kind of funny to see a couple of young 'high school' age boys getting spanked when they both are hung like horses and have five o'clock shadows! Artistic shaving of certain parts of the body did aid in the appearance of youth.
We did have one film touted as being scenes of real punishment sessions, mostly boys getting the cane, strap or paddle in a school setting and even one very dim and poor clip of a purported caning in Singapore. The latter looked like it was done with a hidden camera and I don't think that the livid welts and some bleeding and howls of the man getting caned was faked at all. Not only that, but the caning consisted of just six strokes which is fairly common punishment, if this was faked without a doubt there would be a lot more strokes given than that.
We also got to the point where we would ask each other for a hiding with a belt to help us clear our minds. There was no playing around after these spankings, they served the same purpose as Dad's paddling without having to take the drive to the farm. We used to do these spankings while the spankee was laying on the bed with a pillow under his belly to raise the butt high and concentrated on the center of the buttocks. We didn't do this too often, I got it once and the kid asked for it twice, but I'm afraid that we were neglecting poor old Dad for a while. We couldn't cry as easily from getting tanned with a belt but it could make us sore enough to pay attention to our bums instead of whatever else was bothering us at the moment. Dad and his paddle were still the best person and tool for that job.
I still called him once a week but it had been about a month since I last drove down to see him. I think he must have figured out what was going on between the kid and me, heck, he must have seen it coming but he never mentioned it. Both the kid and me were satisfied enough with what spankings we were giving each other that we didn't feel the need to work a third person into the mix.
One Thursday evening my phone rang and it was Dad. "What you boys up to this weekend?" he asked, "I have a surprize for you." A twinge of guilt went through me as I told him that I was certain that the kid and I could make it out the next night and yes, I'd bring the traditional Chinese supper.
"Good," said Dad, "for some reason that darn local Chinese place just can't get the beef Lo Mein right."
I looked over at the kid who was laying on his tummy on the couch, his recently spanked bottom looking so cute and red. "I guess we're going to take a trip to the country this weekend," I said. "Dad says he has something to show us."
"Oh, good," he said, "maybe we can go up to the camp again and maybe stay overnight."
Late spring had bloomed into early summer and it was quite warm all told. I knew that the water at in the pond at the camp was never warm but at least by now it had warmed up enough so your balls would only retract and not just freeze off. Now that I knew that Dad owned the place I fully intended to put it to use. I most likely would have before this but the years had just put it out of my mind, I had always liked vacationing there and even the spankings I used to get didn't seem to feel quite as bad, maybe it was because for a change I knew that I was not the only boy in the world that got spanked or maybe because I was so busy otherwise I didn't pay much attention to a flaming fanny once the flames subsided a bit. I can almost still hear the other guys wailing as the steady whacks of the paddle drifted out of the old privy and could see their red bums when we went swimming or took a shower. I can also remember getting a woody every time I heard one of the others getting spanked or seeing the results of that exercise. It was also at the camp that I learned how to jerk off. I don't think you ever, ever forget your first orgasm and where it happened. Or, for that matter, who, if anyone, was with you when it happened.
In my case I was just past ten years old, almost eleven and had just gotten a pretty hot spanking and my bottom was still throbbing with pain although I had stopped crying because of it. I had fled from the outhouse once Dad had left me and I got dressed and now was out in a clearing near the brook feeling sorry for myself and feeling pretty put upon all told, not to mention sore assed from the spanking. I heard a noise in the bushes and one of the older boys came into the clearing, by older I mean at least thirteen or maybe even fourteen! He was a nice guy and let me hang around with him all the time.
"Wow," he said, "your dad really let you have it, didn't he?"
"Yeah," I said, "it was pretty hard and hurt lots."
"Can I see the damage?" he asked. I was pretty flattered all told that an older guy thought that I got spanked hard enough that my bum was worth looking at so I dropped my pants and underwear and showed him my red behind. He ran his hand over it and my willie sprang to full and almost painful attention like I had to pee big time. Somehow, though, I knew I didn't need to pee because I just had.
"Did you whack off yet?" the kid inquired.
"What do you mean by that?" I asked, "Dad sure whacked my butt a lot, that's for sure."
"No, no," he laughed, "I mean did you play with yourself yet? Even if you did I see you are hard again. Just like me." He dropped his pants and sure enough, his willie with its very impressive crop of hair above it was stiff and very big. He spat into his hand and rubbed the spit onto his willie and started to rub it. Seeming as this must be a big boy thing to do I followed suit and pretty quick both of us were standing there with our pants on the ground rubbing our stiffies.
This was feeling pretty good, I had rubbed myself like this in the bath before and it felt kind of tickley and fun but I never kept it up for very long but as the big kid was just rubbing and rubbing I did the same. All of a sudden my willie got really really big and hard and a strange feeling started in my balls so I stopped rubbing but it was too late, something awful happened and white stuff just flew in spurts out of me! I couldn't stop it and I started to cry sure that something was wrong. After six or seven of these hard squirts my willie shrunk like mad almost down to nothing. I looked at the big kid. I was scared to death that I somehow had broken my willie or else something inside of me. He had paid no attention to me but continued to rapidly rub his stiffie.
Just then his willie started squirting the same kind of white stuff and boy, didn't it come shooting out. Instead of crying, though, he was just sort of gasping and trying to catch his breath. Finally he stopped spurting out that stuff and I saw his willie shrink down just like mine did.
It took him a little bit to convince me that what I had done was called 'cumming' and it was a good thing, I didn't really believe him completely until we had done this together for about the fourth time. It was a lot more fun than just peeing together. Funny thing is, I can remember his face and even his willie but not his name. I owe him a big thanks wherever he is for not only did he teach me the secondary use of my willie but he also showed me how cumming will take your mind off of a blazing ass for at least a short time anyway. From that time on all of my spankings were followed by a jerk off just as soon as possible. Hey, I had the boner, why not use it?
Somehow, though, spankings are always associated with cumming off in my mind. I have embarrassed myself a lot in the past when a spanking scene shows up in a movie. I had a bunch of friends over once for dinner and a video or two and one of the movies that we watched was 'Dead Poets Society' with Robin Williams. There is one scene in the movie where a boy gets bent over the headmaster's desk and gets his butt smacked with a large wooden paddle, when that happened I popped such a boner so fast and so hard that I missed the next ten minutes or so of the film because I had to use the bathroom right away. As if it wasn't embarrassing enough that I walked out of the room with my willie straining at the left leg of my jogging pants, very obvious and wet at the end, to make it even worse is one of my friends walked into the bathroom to see me squatted down by the toilet having just finished whacking off into the bowl, my pants on the floor and bare ass hanging out. Fortunately he had come into the bathroom for just the same reason and I got to watch him off load the pressure in his own nuts. We laughed about it afterwards, come to find out he has the same reaction to spankings as I do but somehow we never went any further with it other than to pat each other on the bum and tell each other what a nice ass we had, just perfect for spanking. The real thing never came about.
Thinking about these times in the past made me go over and get the kid to sit up so I could lay over his lap, stretched at full length along the couch, so he could spank my behind. My boner was between his legs and his own boner was prodding mine all during the spanking which was very nice indeed, making my entire bum smart well and get nice and warm. We then went into the shower and had a grand time washing each other well, paying a lot of attention to anything that either stuck out or went inward. I don't think either my willie or butt hole has been this clean in my life.
It was a long day at work the next day though I did have one thing to brighten up my day. I happened to walk into the mens' room when the kid was in there and just getting unzipped to use one of the urinals. I walked over to the next one in line and as I unzipped I patted him on the bum and whispered, 'Someone needs a spanking'. I got my leak taken but the kid had to wait a bit for his instant boner to go down before he could get the flow started. Worth a chuckle, anyhow.
Dad was being most mysterious when we got to his house that afternoon, refusing to let us know what the surprize was until after supper was done. Dad was fine with us using the camp but suggested that we sleep at the house tonight and go up there in the late morning and cook our meals there, maybe even trout from the pond. We could stay over night and then head back for the city the next afternoon. He also told us to make sure to plan to take some vacation time up at the camp. "I bought the darn place to be used," he said, "so you two might as well use it."
"Don't worry, Dad," I said, "I still have a lot to show my little brother up there."
"I'm sure that you do," said Dad, and then he proceeded to tell the kid all about the alternate use of the outhouse and to be sure to notice the paddle hanging behind the door. "Unless you close the door you'd never know it was there," said Dad, "and all the boys knew that when that door closed it meant the paddle was coming down from the hook and then coming down on their bottoms and they better get their pants down quick and it wasn't to use the outhouse for it's normal purpose!" He seemed to take great delight in explaining to the kid how many times I had made a trip out there to get spanked and even told him about the more memorable ones.
"There was the time we had home made baked beans for lunch one day," said Dad, "and sonny boy needed an attitude adjustment later on that afternoon. Just the two of us, in the privy with the door closed and I'm smacking his bare behind with the paddle and about every three or four swats he'd let go with a blast from his bottom. Almost made me open the door, it got so bad in there." I could remember that story from hearing it, when you are getting your butt blistered with a paddle you aren't really paying a lot of attention to anything but what your bottom feels like, certainly not any noises it might happen to be making.
Finally supper was over and Dad had gotten the idea that he couldn't embarrass me in front of the kid, I mean when two guys share spankings and have seen each other howling over a man's knees they have seen each other at their worst and most embarrassing, words aren't going to do it. Not to mention the rather intimate probings that went on afterwards. Dad finally took us into a spare room on the ground floor of the house, it had been used a sort of game room when I was a kid.
In the center of the floor of the large room was this, well, contraption. I can't describe it any other way than that. It seemed to be made out of steel tubing and vinyl covered foam padding and I noticed that there were wide tie down straps in strategic locations with Velcro fasteners to keep them closed. As with all that Dad does it was very well made, especially for a self-taught welder and metal fabricator, and it was also the strangest looking thing I ever saw, sort of like an exercise bench mating with a jungle gym.
"It's nice, Dad," I said, "what is it?"
He glared at me in disgust. "For heaven's sakes," he said, "anyone can see that it's an adjustable punishment bench!"
"What happened to the copy of the reform school spanking horse that you were planning on making?" I asked.
"Oh, that's out in the shop, you can take it home with you if you want it," said Dad, "this is a much better spanking tool than that ever could be." He then turned to the kid. "Why don't you get undressed so I can demonstrate this thing?"
I watched as the kid kicked off his shoes and stood on one foot then the other to get his socks off and then pulled his T-shirt over his head. The typical way that a boy will get undressed if told to get naked for a spanking saving the worst for last. He undid the fly on his pants and slipped them off and followed the pants with his briefs so he stood there naked in front of the two of us, boner sticking out a mile.
Dad led the kid over to the back of the frame and first off pushed a button to raise the top up so it hit the kid just at his crotch, his willie resting neatly in a hollow provided for the purpose. Dad fastened the kid at ankle and just above his knees with wide nylon straps with Velcro to hold them tight. The top straps held his legs snugly to the framework, the bottom ones were fastened with a bit of chain to allow some movement of the lower legs.
Dad then had the kid bend over the top of the bench and passed a wide belt across his back just over his ass and fastened his wrists to the sides of the top out in front of him. All told the kid was pretty well trussed up with his behind well exposed for a spanking.
"Are you comfortable?" asked Dad.
"Yes, believe it or not," said the kid, "it feels like being on a massage table."
"Good," said Dad, "the goal is to only make one area of your body uncomfortable, not all of it for that would not be fair."
"Okay then," said Dad, launching into teacher mode. "This position is pretty much what they use in Singapore when they cane a prisoner for crimes committed. Legs together, tied down firmly and bent at the waist. Now watch this."
He pressed a button and the thing started to move again, the legs spreading open a bit and the top dropping down slope a bit to better present the kid's backside. "This is the position that the spanking horse gives," Dad explained, "you can see his crack is just starting to open and you can just see his nuts hanging down. Now there is this position."
He pressed another button and the frame went through some more contortions, moving the legs much, much wider apart and pushing the kid's knees forward so he ended up looking like he was laying down on the tank of a motorcycle and boy, what a view there was!
"This is the position they used to administer a birching over in Great Britain," said Dad, "they used to like to get as much of a boy's backside exposed to the sting of the birch as possible." I guess! The skin of the kid's ass was pulled rather tight and his ass rounded over and his anus showed like a bullseye in the center of his crack, even the insides of his parted thighs and ball sack were in plain view, about the only thing hidden was his willie and that was in the hollow on the bench and under his belly. "They call a frame like this a 'birching pony'," Dad said, "I guess they figured it looked like someone laying on a pony's back." All I could think of was how exposed all the tender areas of the kid's backside were.
"You're kidding me," I said, "they used to smack a guy on his private areas on purpose?"
"Well, from what I've read they didn't target those areas but if they got a switching that was perfectly fine," Dad said, "it stung like mad and might even draw blood but didn't cause any real damage. The embarrassment factor was just as important as the thrashing itself. Back when birching was still in vogue the authorities were not too fussy about where a miscreant might get welted up and the sensitivity of a person's crack and nuts was well known and taken advantage of." Dad paused for a minute and gazed at the kid trussed up like the Thanksgiving turkey. (and ready to be stuffed if the truth be known)
"Isn't that a lot of apparatus to just lay a stick across a kid's bum?" I asked.
"I think you have a birching confused with a caning," Dad said, "a caning is indeed done with a single stick, kind of like a switch, but a birching was done with a bundle of freshly cut birch branches about three feet long or so for the longest branches, up to six to eight inches shorter for the others. There were normally anywhere from six to ten branches in the bundle and they tend to wrap around the boy's entire posterior and cause some pretty stinging welts. The shorter branches would wrap into the boy's crack and surrounding areas and give them a pretty good bite as well. Boys punished this way said that it felt like you were sat on a hot stove."
"You have to remember," Dad continued, "that this was considered a humane punishment for youthful offenders back in those days. They still used to lash the skin right off of an adult's back with the cat-o'-nine-tails which was a pretty bloody operation and would leave the man scarred for life. A good birching made it feel like all the skin was being flayed right off of your ass but in reality the cutting would be minimal and little scarring would result. A normal sentence would be half a dozen strokes for a first time offender up to two dozen for a really bad offender but it was rare that a boy went back for seconds when it came to a birching, it hurts that much."
As Dad pushed the buttons on his invention I could feel my willie straining at the fabric of my underpants, darn it all but this talk of a 'birching' made me horny! I had been spanked by hand and paddle and of late had the belt used on my ass quite a bit but just couldn't imagine what it would feel like to be strapped down over that machine with everything hanging out and getting a bunch of tree branches slapped across my rump. I unstrapped the kid from the frame and then just had to see what it felt like myself so I stripped down naked and lay down over it, tucking my stiffie into the hollow on top of the bench.
A guy sure feels pretty helpless laying there naked with his wrists and legs restrained and a wide belt over his back and although the reform school position left me feeling pretty exposed it was nothing compared to the birching pony position. Now that position in itself is nothing new, I mean it is one that the kid and I have used quite often but not for spanking purposes but it feels really nasty and makes a guy feel pretty darn vulnerable to know that he could not escape anything that someone wanted to do to his exposed areas. My butt hole and balls did feel like the bullseye on a target for sure.
Dad adjusted the frame back into the reform school position and said, "I've got a surprize for you. I tracked down one of the men that used to work at the reform school and also used to be one of the men that would apply strap to boy hide when needed. It took a bit of talking on my part but I got him to part with the very strap that he used to use for that purpose." He then asked the kid if I had been a bad boy lately.
"Bad," said the kid, "he's been a rotten brat!"
"In that case," said Dad, "I reckon that maybe I should try this thing out. Maybe we'll try half a dozen and see how much that improves his behavior."
"I'll get you for this," I informed the kid.
There was a 'whoosh' through the air and then the reform school strap bit my backside. As a hot blaze bloomed right in the middle of my stuck out ass, the second swat landed, just underneath the first one. The third one landed high and then the process started over again, one in the center, one low and the last one high.
I didn't yell from the whipping, it didn't hurt that much though if it had gone on for much longer all bets would be out the window. It burnt, oh, my, how that leather burnt my hide but I guess I'm getting used to being spanked by now and although I could easily see how the strap would work wonders on a teenage boy it would take more than just six whacks to get me hollering. What was worse about it was being restrained and only being able to kick my legs about eight inches or so before the chains brought them up short and just knowing that in real life if I was fastened down on this thing the whipping would go on until the person got bored with whaling on my butt and there was nothing I could do about it. It was with a blazing, red fanny that I was allowed to get up from the frame after the kid unstrapped me from it.
I stood there naked rubbing my sore ass very conscious of my stiff willie sticking out. "But, Dad," I whined, "he's been pretty bratty himself, it wasn't just me!"
Dad nodded at the horse. "Your turn," he told the kid.
The kid got onto the horse again and I gleefully strapped him down and stood back and watched Dad ply the strap six times across his nice, white ass. It was still nice, maybe even nicer when Dad was done, but it sure wasn't white any longer! His rounded buttocks were now pretty darn red from the six strokes of the strap and even glistened a bit from the fresh application of Neatsfoot oil that Dad had put onto the strap. I went over to untie him from the machine, playing with the center of his crack just a bit when my body blocked my hand from Dad's view.
We all went back into the living room, the kid and I carrying our clothing with us, heck, we weren't going to bother to get dressed again this late at night, and sat down for another drink before bed. Dad picked up a couple of loose leaf binders and handed one to the kid and one to me. "I've been doing a little research," he said.
Dad is like that, yes, he is. He tends to just research the heck out of any subject that catches his fancy and in this case I guess the reform school spanking horse set him off because both of these loose leafs were all about judicial corporal punishment, narrowing down on the age old use of the buttocks for the site of said punishment. Complete with pictures.
For example, just the simple punishment of laying a cane across a culprit's backside, the various methods used are incredible. About the only similarity among all these whippings are for the most part they are administered on the malefactor's bare ass. This is always the case among adults, the only time it is applied to the pants is among school children. And even then most of the time the boys have to put on gym shorts with nothing on underneath them actually providing little protection at all.
Most of the time a boy was just made to bend over and grab his legs, sticking out his backside for the strokes of the cane though some were made to bend over the back of a chair with their head low. Only on very rare occasions was a school boy caned on his bare rump, this was reserved for especially heinous crimes. In school, anyway, most of the time a school caning was followed up by a considerably longer and stiffer punishment from their father once the boys got home, pants were almost never an option during these spankings.
When it came to adults getting whipped with a cane it was done differently in different countries. In Singapore the prisoner was bent over a frame, stark naked and bent at the waist while standing with his hands restrained in front of him, his ankles restrained and a padded belt fastened across his lower back to protect his kidneys and spine from damage. The strokes were given square across both the man's buttocks.
In Pakistan the caning was done standing up at a slight angle with normally just the man's pants and underwear down and once more across the buttocks. In some Asian countries the person is tied down naked over a barrel type thing with his ass stuck up to receive the strokes while in other countries yet a person is tied down to a frame like an exercise bench with his legs low and straddled over the top of the thing, spreading his cheeks a bit to make sure that the tender insides of his crack gets whacked as well.
One of the stranger systems involves a padded pair of pants that are put on the man to be caned that cover everything but his buttocks which stick out to receive the strokes.
Regardless of the method used the results were about the same, loud screams from the recipient of the strokes which were given as hard as possible by a very strong man and the frequent loss of bladder control. A caning tended to cut the skin and leave scars for the man's life behind them, it was not uncommon for a caned man to not be able to resume clothing for several days after this treatment. One other interesting note--it was very rare that a man was caned more than once, the first treatment this way tended to convince him of the errors of his ways.
One of the more interesting use of a cane for punishment was done in China. In certain areas of the country people are allowed only to reproduce themselves and the man is held responsible for any pregnancies after the first two. If caught the man receives a stroke of a light, limber bamboo cane across his bare buttocks for each day that the pregnancy has advanced, up to about 280 strokes for a full term. This technique has had marked results in limiting the over population problem in China.
All these punishments pale in comparison to what they used to do in the Spice Islands. They used a cute little technique where a man was suspended naked between two upright poles set in the ground and if he got 100 strokes they were administered by four men with bamboo or rattan canes, one on each side of his buttocks and one on each side of his feet. Each set of strokes counted as one and so he would get 200 whacks on the ass and another two hundred on the soles of his feet. A sentence of five hundred strokes was not unusual. A man could be crippled for life without proper treatment from the lashes on his feet and needless to say getting your ass whipped that way as well was rather uncomfortable indeed.
Dad even had a bunch of reproduced pictures, actual snap shots, of boys getting punished on that self same horse that he had replicated. He got these from the same man that he got the strap from and had them duplicated. All told there must have been fifty pictures of boys of various ages tied down naked over that horse with flaming bottoms. One picture actually showed the strap in full stroke flattening out the boy's cheeks with the force of the blow and his feet flying upward as far as the chains would allow them to go. He even had two pictures of a late teen age boy getting birched, one after six strokes had been given, one after the full dozen. Boy, his bottom looked like it had been run over with a hay rake, all welts and stripes and even a bit of bleeding. Another shot of the same boy a week later showed that his bum just showed a few stripes left over where the birch bit into the sides of his thighs. It was a far cry from the picture right after his whipping while he was still tied down on the pony, every part of his bum was raw and red and that included anything in the area, even his nut sack had gotten whipped by the birch sticks.
I don't think I have to say that these articles and pictures were making me incredibly horny so I made our excuses as quickly as it was polite and the kid and I headed upstairs to my bedroom. Neither one of us really wanted to wait to cum off so we did the simplest thing and took each other in hand and jerked each other off. When the pressure was relieved from our lower regions we lay there in my bed just wrapped around each other and idly talking about Dad's new invention and how darn effective that reform school strap is until we fell asleep.