David (Dave) Redwell clearly remembers starting school. He was five years old and the school was a small private affair for boys only run by Miss Stanford a kindly middle-aged lady . She would limit the size of her class to about twenty pupils. The classroom was a wooden hall which Miss Stanford hired. She was quite a good teacher giving the youngsters a mixture of childish activities and serious learning. During his two years there Dave had learned how to do joined-up writing and some simple arithmetic. His arrival at the school was also the first time he had had any prolonged contact with other boys of his own age. Even at that tender age Dave was developing a fanatical interest in spanking! It is difficult to understand why, because there was no corporal punishment at the school and he did not get spanked at home. However, he could not keep his eyes off any of his fellow pupils who were dressed in tight-fitting short trousers and in his fantasies he would imagine them across their fathers' knees being spanked!

At seven years of age Dave went to a junior school. It was a state run school and corporal punishment was used at the school. However, such punishments were mainly administered to boys in the headmaster's own class. Mr Thrower took the top class – the ten year olds in their last year at the school. Boys from the three lower classes were only caned if they had committed an offence worthy of being sent to see the headmaster, which was rare. The two most common punishments in the first three classes were the time honoured favourites of lines and being kept in after school. There were only four teachers for the entire school and each one was responsible for teaching every subject in his or her own form.

When he was ten Dave and the rest of his class moved into Mr Thrower's form. In those days they still wore short trousers throughout their stay at the junior school. Mr Thrower, an old man who was nearing retirement age, had a reputation for strict discipline and he knew only one punishment whatever the offence – the cane! It would only be two strokes, but they were well laid on with force. The boys were told on the very first morning that he would tolerate no talking in his class. They were soon to find out that “talking” consisted of any sort of communication whatsoever such as gesturing to one another, and the headmaster had eyes like a hawk. Dave was still fascinated by corporal punishment but terrified of getting it himself!

The boys only had to wait two days to have a demonstration of the headmaster's zero tolerance when it came to talking. There was not a sound in the room. One could have heard the proverbial pin drop. The boy sitting directly in front of Dave suddenly nudged the boy next to him and started shaking his hand over his exercise book to indicate that he wanted to borrow an eraser. The other boy smiled and nodded and handed over the eraser when suddenly a booming voice bawled out:

“You two! You're talking! Come here!”

The headmaster was such an overpowering and frightening creature that no boy could ever plead innocence or answer back in any way. The two boys left their desks and went to the front of the class. The headmaster already had his cane in his hand when they arrived.

“Both of you! Legs apart, bend over and get hold of your ankles!”

The two boys had to bend over with their bottoms facing their fellow pupils, their short trousers stretched to the limits around those youthful buttocks. Dave was getting excited. he was going to see a caning for real!

“Any one of you who stands up or puts his hand across his bottom before he has had two strokes will get six!” said the headmaster.

Mr Thrower raised the cane. There was a swish and a loud crack as the rod made contact with its target! Then it was repeated! It was not until the boy shot up that it was apparent how much it had hurt him. His face was screwed up in agony and he clasped hold of his tortured buttocks. The headmaster moved to the other boy. The second boy reacted differently. As the cane lashed across his backside he burst into tears! It was probably the fear of getting six like that which enabled him to keep bending for the second stroke!

“Go back to your places!”

It was the boy whose desk was immediately in front of Dave who had taken it best. He returned to his place and ever so cautiously lowered himself down but shot up a couple of inches when his bottom made contact with the wooden seat. He pretended to sit down but was actually holding himself just off the seat by pressing down hard with his elbows on his desk, That in itself was an uncomfortable position to maintain for any length of time! The other boy could not sit down; he stood behind his desk clutching his buttocks with both hands while the tears rolled freely down his cheeks!

This piece of drama, which was to become commonplace over the following twelve months, had taken place at three-thirty in the afternoon and only a half an hour before the end of school lessons. Throughout that final thirty minutes of the day Dave could concentrate on nothing but the antics of the boy in front of him. The boy's arms were obviously aching to the point when he had to try and lower his bottom onto the seat. That sore part of his anatomy touched the woodwork and immediately shot up again. Then he tried putting both hands on the sides of the chair and holding himself off it that way. Eventually he had to abandon that position as well and let his bottom take his weight! As he did so Dave could see the side of the boy's face and could see the expression of pain on his face. At four o'clock the class was dismissed. The boy who had remained standing was no longer in tears but his eyes were red and it was obvious that he had been crying. The boy in front of Dave got up with a sigh of relief and unconsciously gave his backside a quick rub before filing out of the room.

Dave went home that afternoon enthralled by what he had seen. For five years he had harboured the seeds of his enthusiasm for bum smacking and on that afternoon those seeds had been fertilized! For the whole of that evening he could see the cane slicing into those two bottoms, the clutched buttocks, the tears and the sheer agony of the boy pretending to sit down when it was too uncomfortable to do so! Dave would wonder how those two boys were feeling that evening. He liked to imagine that they were still suffering from sore bottoms when they went to bed, and he wondered how one of them explained away his red eyes when he got home! Would he admit that he had had to bend over in front of the class and have his behind caned? Dave could just imagine his mother insisting that he take his trousers down so that so could put some soothing lotion on his stripes. In fact Dave let his imagination run riot.

Dave's hunger for more corporal punishment – providing it was somebody else getting it – was soon satisfied! Rarely would a week go by without somebody getting a burning rear end! Nearly all were from Mr Throwers own class but there were one or two cases from the lower forms. Perhaps the most notable was when two eight year old boys from the second form had been caught stealing chocolate from the little shop on the corner of the street which the school was in. The shopkeeper had reported them to the school rather than the police. The following morning just after nine o'clock Mr Thrower sent for the two boys. Justice was quick and painful! There was no long lecture. They were told that they were to go and apologise to the shopkeeper. They were handed a note which the headmaster had written which indicated that they had apologised satisfactorily and they were to bring it back with the shopkeeper's signature on it. But before being sent on their way came the important part!

“Both of you bend over!” said the headmaster as the took the cane from his desk.

He gave them the usual warning about not getting up until they had received two strokes and then let them have it! The punishment was always two strokes whatever the offence! Both boys were sent on their way to the shop gripping their bottoms and with the tears cascading down their faces! They returned twenty minutes later still sobbing and with the precious piece of paper containing the shopkeepers signature. It was learnt later, through rumours coming from the shop staff, that the shop owner had made the boys drop their trousers and show him their stripes before he would sign the note! This Spurred Dave's fantasies to greater heights. He could imagine the two boys being made to bend over and grab their ankles in the shop and having their bottoms examined! Soon he was thinking up all sorts of embarrassing situations for naughty boys!

It was perhaps inevitable that Dave would not survive a whole year without falling foul of the strict Mr thrower! One his friend Duncan Ward slipped a note across to him in class. It read: “Wait for me outside after school. I want to tell you something,” Dave read the note and then without thinking he looked across to Duncan, smiled and nodded. Instantly, almost like a bomb going off, came the thundering roar:

“You two! Redwell and Ward! You're talking! Come here!”

Obedience had to be instant in Mr Thrower's class! With hardly time to start shivering both boys stood up and advanced towards the headmaster who stood with cane already in his hand! The headmaster had no interest in what they were talking about. There were no questions, no lectures – just the ominous words:

“Bend over and get hold of your ankles!”

For Dave, who had for so long enjoyed seeing others getting their bottoms stung, the dreaded moment had arrived when he was to find out what a couple of cuts of the cane felt like! Trembling, Dave bent over to present his tightly clad bottom to his fellow pupils. Duncan bent over beside him. It so happened that Duncan was to the left of Dave and would get his two strokes first. There came the familiar swish and crack! Duncan blurted out a pitiful “Arrrrgh!” Then a second swish and crack. Duncan burst into uncontrollable tears. It did nothing to calm Dave's nerves!

Dave braced himself as best he could and clenched his teeth together determined not to call out as Duncan had. Once again the swish and this time he felt as well as heard the crack! His bottom had been branded by a red-hot poker, or so it felt! He will never know how he managed to keep his teeth clenched and not call out, but somehow he did. Despite the pain he recalled the very first canings he had witnessed. One boy crying his eyes out and the other bravely trying to sit down. Now Dave was determined to be like that other boy. The second stroke lashed his buttocks mercilessly. He shot up and pressed his hands to his behind thankful that it was all over. The analogy with the other boys continued. Duncan remained standing rubbing his bottom and with tears pouring freely down his face while Dave made the attempt to try and sit down. Dave had been amused that afternoon by the antics of the boy in front of him. Now he found himself acting in exactly the same way! He kept shifting from one position to another in an attempt to keep his bottom just off the seat. His arms ached like mad and his bottom stung unbearably! It would have been much more comfortable to have stood up and admit defeat but Dave did not lack guts and somehow he held out until the end of lessons. Just what Duncan had wanted to see him about after school he did not find out, for the tearful Duncan ran straight off home as soon as school finished.

The incident had not dimmed Dave's enthusiasm for spanking. It had merely reinforced his belief that it was far more fun if somebody else was getting it, or perhaps even if he himself was administering the punishment if only that were possible! It became possible in his fantasies. He loved to see himself as a headmaster with a boy bending over in front of him and a long line of other boys awaiting their turn! And once he was over the worst of the pain he was pleased that he had experienced the cane and no longer had to wonder what it felt like!

The year in Mr Thrower's class came to an end. To a ten year old it had seemed more like five years! Dave, now just eleven, was sent to an independent school as a weekly boarder. It was a different world. From the small town state run junior school with just four forms and four teachers Dave was thrust into the imposing conglomeration of Conerbury Academy with its acres of playing fields, a gymnasium, a heated swimming pool, a boathouse and a mixture of medieval and modern buildings. However, Dave soon settled in. Despite the reputation independent schools have for harsh thrashings the reality was that the discipline, although strict, was nothing like the rigid Victorian world of Mr Thrower. The prefects had no powers to use corporal punishment. They could impose other punishments or report boys the the housemasters or the headmaster. The housemasters were allowed to use the slipper but not the cane. The headmaster alone had the authority to wield the rod.

Unlike at the junior school boys were never physically punished in class at Conerbury Academy. Boys would either be sent to their housemaster's quarters for the slipper or to the headmaster's study for a caning. There were four four houses at the school and four housemasters. Dave was put in Bamberly house whose housemaster was Mr Williams. Dave was to get into trouble during his very first term at the school for consuming food in the dormitory. It was a strict rule that no food could be eaten in dormitories. The boys were allowed to keep food with a long shelf life, such as bars of chocolate, in their lockers but must not eat them in the dormitory. He had only himself to blame. He knew the rules!

Dave was not too worried about the prospect of getting six of the slipper, the maximum number of strokes allowed for juniors, or the “short pants brigade” as the seniors knew them! The boys had to wear short trousers up to the age of fourteen. The slipper could be no worse than Mr Thrower's deadly cane! But it was something else that was worrying him. According to the tales that the other boys had been telling him Mr Williams would punish senior boys in private in his quarters in the afternoons, but he made juniors report to him in the evening and would punish boys in front of his wife and two daughters. Mr Williams had two daughters aged nine and eleven who attended a girls school in the town. Dave had dismissed the story as a bit of scare-mongering by the “old hands” to make new boys nervous. It was certainly doing that as he approached the housemaster's door that evening. He knocked on the door. It was opened by a woman.

“Are you Redwell?” she asked.

“Yes er miss!” he replied.

“Come inside!”

She took him into a living room.

“It's the boy you were expecting Arthur!”

Dave's heart missed a beat! Mr Williams was seated in an armchair and at the table two young girls were playing a board game. Surely either Dave was going to be taken to another room or the girls would be sent out of the living room. But it seemed that neither was going to happen! Mr Williams stood up.

“Ah yes! You've come for six of the slipper haven't you Redwell?”

“Yer-yer-yer-yes sir!” Dave stammered out. He could not recall ever feeling so embarrassed as he did at this moment!

“Stand against the arm of that chair and remove your blazer!” ordered the teacher.

Dave obeyed the order. Things were to get worse!

“The slipper is always applied on the bare buttocks Redwell. Take down your trousers and underpants!”

If ever he wished that the ground would open and swallow him up it was now! The dice at the board game had stopped rolling. He knew that the two girls must have their eyes glued to him as his trousers and underwear slid down to his ankles. How could Mr Williams put a boy through such humiliation? He not only could but he seemed to delight in it!

“Bend over the arm Redwell!”

Dave bent over. He felt his shirt tail being pulled right back. His bare bottom was now on full view to everybody in the room!

WHACK!

Any thoughts Dave may have had about the slipper being a piece of cake compared with the cane were soon dispelled! It hurt! Then came the second stroke. It hurt even more! Dave had been so determined to retain one small morsel of dignity by showing how well he could take his punishment, but even that was to be denied him. The third blow had him squirming without constraint. The forth stroke caused him to put a hand behind him to try and protect his burning bottom. This prompted an angry warning to take his hand away and keep it away. On the fifth stroke the tears started to roll and the final blow left him crying profusely!

“Stand up Redwell!”

Dave stood up. His desire to comfort his bottom with his hands was soon shattered.

“Take your hands away from your bottom and put them behind your head. Then go over to the wall and stand facing it until you have finished blubbing!”

Dave had to shuffle over to the wall with his trousers and underwear still around his ankles. There he was left for ten minutes with his red bottom on full view until the tears had dried up.

“Very well Redwell. You may get dressed and go!”

Red faced, and with a bottom to match, Dave replaced his clothes.

“Good evening sir! Good evening miss!” he said.

“Good evening!” came a childish voice followed by “Good evening!” from a second childish voice!

Out of the corner of his eye he could see the smirk on the two girls' faces. He could not ignore them in front of their parents. He had to force himself to answer even though he knew that they were trying to humble him even further.

“Good evening!” he mumbled, not daring to make eye contact with either of them.

He went outside, leaned back on the wall, placed his hands on his sore bottom, took a deep breath and gave a deep sigh. He looked at his watch. He would have to go almost immediately to prep. He did not want to be late or it might entail another visit to Mr Williams. It had not been a very good evening!

Dave soon came to the conclusion that it was better to obey the rules and keep out of trouble. He could content himself with enjoying seeing others heading for Mr Williams' apartment and just imagining what they were going through! He managed to avoid the wroth of the powers that be for three years until he was fourteen years old. It is difficult to go through school life without being tempted to take the odd risk. He was just returning to the school buildings from the sports fields. He had been playing football.

“I left my towel in the gymnasium this morning by accident” he said to his friend “I'll just slip in and get it!”

“You can't go in the gym with football boots on!” exclaimed his friend.

“Narr! Nobody will see me! There'll be nobody in there this time of day. It won't take a minute!”

Dave went in the main door and through to the changing room. He could see his towel hanging from a hook. He unhooked it and headed back for the door.

“REDWELL!” shouted a loud angry voice.

Dave initially froze, then turned his head to see the PE instructor.

“What are you doing in here in football boots. You know very well that there are strict rules about what kinds footwear can be worn in here!”

“Yes sir! I just came in to get my towel I forgot....”

“I don't care why you are here! If any type of footwear is liable to damage this floor I can't imaging anything worse than football boots with studs on!”

“I-I only came in......”

“Save your excuses for the headmaster! I shall report you to him tonight!! Now get out of here in double quick time!”

Being reported to the headmaster could only have one result – six of the best with the cane! Dave left the gymnasium with butterflies already fluttering in his tummy! He well remembered the intense pain of the two strokes he got at junior school, but he tried to console himself with the fact at he had been only ten years old then. He should be able to bear the cane more easily at fourteen. The headmaster sent a message to his classroom the next morning that he was to report to the study at one-forty-five pm. This was the usual time the headmaster carried out punishments – after lunch and before afternoon school. Many a sobbing boy has turned up for afternoon lessons a few minutes late and unable to sit down! Dave presented himself on time and received a lecture on wearing suitable footwear on the precious gymnasium floor!

“And now I am going to give you six strokes of the cane!” said the headmaster.

The master stood up and turned to a wardrobe at the wall behind the desk. Most boys knew about the wardrobe even if they had never seen it. It was full of canes! The headmaster selected one cane, flexed it between his hands and swished it through the air. He replaced the cane, selected another and repeated the procedure. In total he tried eight canes before deciding on one. It was all part of his method of softening-up a boy and scaring the living daylights out of him. It was certainly working on the shaking and terrified Dave! The headmaster put a chair beside his desk.

“Kneel on the chair Redwell and get down flat across my desk!”

Dave got into position, his black trousers stretched tightly around his buttocks and reflecting a silvery shine in the light from the lamp on the ceiling. He felt three light taps of the cane across his bottom. He braced himself for what was to follow.

SWISH...CRACK!

Dave could forget any ideas he may have had that he could better stand the pain at fourteen than he could at ten. It hurt just as much now as it did then! There was one big difference. Then it was two strokes, now it was to be six! He tried every trick he could think of to avoid calling out and holding back the tears. But he failed! By the forth stroke he was yelling out and the tears were trickling down. After the fifth stroke he flung his hand behind him only to be told in no uncertain terms to remove it! He stood up after the sixth stroke, the tears flooding down his cheeks and his hands holding on to his bottom as if he was expecting it to fall off! He was ordered straight back to his classroom. The lesson had already started. He had to go up to the teacher's desk and say:

“Sorry I'm late sir! I've been to see the headmaster!”

No one would need to ask what for! They could all see from the state he was in that the headmaster had not invited him in for an after lunch drink!

“Right! Go to your place and sit down!” said the teacher, and then amid laughter he added “If you can!”

Dave could not! he spent a very uncomfortable afternoon standing behind his desk!

That was to be the last time Dave got into any serious trouble at Conerbury Academy. He went on to the sixth form and left school at eighteen having passed his exams with flying colours. After taking a gap year he went on to university where he took a teacher's course. At twenty-three he was ready to find a job in the teaching profession. Studying the “Teacher Gazette” vacancy page he was mildly shocked to see that there was a vacancy at Conerbury Academy for a history teacher, a history was his speciality subject. He applied for the job and was granted an interview. It was here that he had a piece of luck. The headmaster he had known had left the school and a new man was in place, so Dave's past records, both good and bad, would not be known to the new incombent! Dave got the job!

There was one problem. notably his working relationship with Mr Williams. The housemaster could not have dreamt one of the old boys would return as a colleague! Dave would never forget the humiliation that Mr Williams had put him through that evening he had given him the slipper. Dave could not help himself mentioning it to him one day when they were in conversation.

“Oh come come David!” said Mr Williams, “Your surely not holding that against me! You broke the rules! You deserved six of the slipper!”

“It's not the slipper that's eating me!” replied Dave, “It's the humiliation you put me through in front of your wife and daughters!”

“Look David. I apologise for that. I realise now that I did wrong and if I can make it up to you in any way I will!”

The conversation was forgotten. One year later Mr Williams announced his retirement. The headmaster sent for Dave.

“I am sure you know that Mr Williams is retiring at the end of this term?”

“Yes, of course headmaster.” replied Dave “I believe he has a house on the south coast he's moving into.”

“Yes Eastbourne I understand. This means that there is a vacancy for housemaster of Bamberly house. Mr Williams has spoken well of you and has recommended that you take his place! Does it appeal to you?”

“Yes indeed! Thank you very much headmaster! I consider it an honour to be offered the post!”

“The apartment goes with the post. You will be able to move out of your somewhat cramped two room quarters and into Mr Williams place.”

When he left the study Dave went straight away to see Mr Williams.

“Thanks Arthur for recommending me to take over Bamberly house!”

Mr Williams smiled.

“I said I'd make it up to you!” he answered as he offered his hand to Dave.

The following term Dave was back at the school two days early so that he could move from his old quarters to the more spacious housemaster's apartment. There was no need to furnish it; the furniture came with the flat, including the comfortable armchair he had once had to bend over. Dave had now achieved his life ambition. Pleased though he was that he has experienced both the slipper and the cane so that he knew what they were like he nonetheless considered himself to be a top, not a bottom; a master, not a slave; dominant not submissive. Now he was the one who would wield the slipper and, who knows, perhaps one day he would be a headmaster somewhere!

Two weeks into the new term and he was awaiting his first case – that timid knock on the door that meant some trembling boy was standing outside! At four-thirty the knock came dead on time. Dave put on the best growl he could manage!

“Come in!”

It was indeed a trembling boy who entered! A fair-haired thirteen year old with chattering teeth looking very spankable in his short grey trousers!

“Ah yes Willerby! Six of the best isn't it? Come over to this chair, remove your blazer and drop your trousers and pants!”

Like a lamb to slaughter the boy did as he was told.

“Bend over the arm of the chair!”

Now came the exciting moment when Dave would lift back the shirt tail! As that vulnerable split peach came into view he mused that that must have been how his own bottom looked on that evening some ten years before. He felt his face flushing as he thought of those two little girls watching his bottom appear! All these years afterwards he still felt embarrassed whenever he thought of it! He raised the slipper and....

CRACK! CRACK!

Willerby gasped, wriggled and squirmed. Dave knew from his own experience just how much it was stinging. He could sense how the boy was using every ounce of willpower to try and put on a brave show. The boy held out until the last stroke. Number six was just more than he could take and the tears began to roll.

“Stand up boy.”

The inevitable bottom in hands followed!

“Get your trousers back up and then you may go.”

No corner time? No! He now wanted the boy out of the way. Dave had a restless piece of his anatomy crying out for attention!