The Call Out


by Basil <Basil2_uk@yahoo.com>

It was the fourth stroke that brought the first groan. I was using a senior dragon cane and laying them on hard - swearing was a very serious matter in my school - but the boy was well built, even for a 15 year old, so I needed to make sure that the message was received.

I had him over my desk. It was high enough to allow him to remain on his feet but be fully supported and grasp the far side. Even though he still wore his trousers he clearly had very muscular thighs and buttocks. The groan told me I was getting through to him.

And the phone rang.

"Stay were you are!"

I answered, holding phone in one hand and cane in the other. It gave me time to study my target!

It was a message from the school office. Mr Watkins was having trouble with a class and required some support. I said that I would be along shortly, and replaced the receiver.

I needed to walk back to my victim so used the slight motion of the trip to add to the force of stroke five which conseuqently came before he was expecting it and caused a further groan.

As did stroke six which was VERY close behind. And also landed very close to the previous stroke.

"Stand up."

I like to see the boy's face immediately so gave him no time to settle. I laid the cane on the desk and sat down facing him, withdrawing the punishment book from my drawer as I did so. I quickly entered the details and closed the book.

"I don't expect to see you in here again."

"No sir - and thank you for caning me, sir". An annoying little ritual of mine but I like these nicities.

"Straight back to class."

The boy turned and left and I glanced at his large shapely buttocks, imagining the stripes beneath his underpants. But I had pressing business to attend to, so I picked up the cane again and made for the door.

I hadn't checked which class it was I was going to: was this the right cane? If they were very young boys I could scare the daylights out of them with this, but if they were older I would want to put it to use and this model might be too heavy.

I went to the umbrella stand by the window which held my collection and started to rummage among them. Then I found what I needed, and seldom used. It was actually and army swagger stick and being only about 2 foot 6 rarely caught my eye. It was made of malaca, slightly thinner than a senior cane but extremely whippy. It made a note much higher than any other cane I had and left a sting that took a long time to fade. I used it when one stroke was all that was required but needed to be a stroke to remember.

I swished my choice through the air a couple of times and then set off for the class.

When I approached things were not riotous but neither were they as quiet as they should be. As with most classes, the sight of the headmaster, cane in hand, was enough to silence them. I needed someone to make an example of. Boys as ever provided the solution as Mason, a lively yet promising lad whose backside I had striped on several occasions, was the last to stop speaking.

I pointed to him with the cane.

"Yes, Mason? You have something to say?"

"Nothing, sir."

"But I heard you speak, Mason, so you must have said something."

"I meant that what I said was nothing, sir."

"But you were speaking?"

"Well, er, yes, sir, but..."

"So what were you saying?"

"It doesn't matter, sir." He was staring to sound apprehensive.

"Stand up, boy. Now, what did you say?"

"I said 'Oh, no' sir."

"Was that comment of use to the situation? Was it valuable? Did it contribute to the lesson?"

"No, sir."

"Precisely the sort of comment that, when multiplied, causes the disruption that I am called to deal with." I gave him no time to reply; "Come out here!"

There is a certain way that boys walk to the front of a room for an inevitable caning that Mason now demonstrated perfectly. As he did so, I spoke to the rest of the class.

"Gentlemen, you have 30 seconds to deice the answer to a simple question: has your own behaviour in the lsson so far been good enough?"

By now Mason was standing before me. I brought the caneround in front of me and flexed it between both hands in the traditional manner.

"Bend over!"

Mason moved to my left and, keeping his back to the class, bent over and placed his hands on his knees. For a longer beating I might have bothered to get him bent lower, or feet further apart, but this would suffice for my demonstration.

"SWEESHTHWACK!!!"

I felt the silent class go even quieter as they registered the sight and sound of the cane in action. If they missed the main event the encore left them in no doubt, as Mason flew into the air and grabbed his buttocks with both hands. I left him smarting and struggling to gain some semblance of composure.

"Time's up gentlemen. If you feel that you might have behaved better in this lesson than you have, please stand up."

There was a moment before anyone moved but then one by onea dozen or so boys stood up.

"Quite a guilty number, Mr Watkins. Return to your seat, Mason."

My eyes followed him as he did that other famous walk, of the newly caned boy back to his place, and remained on him while he gingerly sat down (not easy), while he pondered his pain, while he looked back up, while he registered that I was still ooking at him, while he also registered that he too should be standing, - and while he stood up. Fear and discomfort was written all over his face.

"Mr Watkins, are there any boys still sitting who, in your opinion, should be on their feet?"

Mr Watkins surveyed the gloomy class.

"Yes, headmaster, Parsons, Bailey and Miller."

All three stood as he called their names - clearly they did not disagree with him.

"Out here, you three!"

They were expecting as much and made their way to the front as Mason had moments earlier. I lined them up to my left with their backs to the class.

"Bend over!"

Over they went together, lined up for execution.

"A degree of honesty..."

"SWEESHTHWACK!!!"

"...is a characteristic...

"SWEESHTHWACK!!!"

"...to be valued in a man..."

"SWEESHTHWACK!!!"

"..and a worthwhile lesson to learn."

one stroke had landed forcefully on each pair of buttocks to great effect!

"Back to your places, gentlemen".

The same reluctant walk back and painful sit down. I raised my voice now:

"I thought we had just established that you three should be standing!"

Embarrassed and fearful, they leapt to their feet.

I counted eighteen boys now standing. one by one they came to the front of the room and took a stroke from my cane. And they really felt it! For four of them it was the second trip in a matter of minutes.

"You may sit. Mr Watkins, note the names of any boys that cause any further bother this lesson and I shall return at the end to see them."

So saying, I left.

I did return but disappointingly there were no names on the list. I had, however, delivered 22 good strokes and felt pleased with my morning's work.

Perhaps I should use this cane more often!


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