'Crunch!'

That hurt, though not as much as it hurt him; and without that squigie feeling you get when their nose breaks.

“Arrgh, you bastard!” screamed Jenks.

“What's going on here?” stormed Bennett.

Oh shit, I thought. Now a fucking prefect is involved.

We stood waiting while the prick strode up the corridor towards us.

“Well?” said Bennett, coming up to us and looking very pished. “I asked a question”.

Because Jenks was still suffering from the Glasgow kiss I had given him, and could not speak while the blood dripped from his nose, I said, “Just a wee disagreement between us, Bennett, nothing to concern yis.”

“I'll be the judge of that, McIntyre. I saw you head butt Jenks. Why did you do that?”

“We were having a difference of opinion, is all. He would'na listen to me, and I just lost it.”

Truth is the wee cunt has been winding me up since I arrived here two weeks ago. Why my Da had to get a job in Hong Kong and not take me with him, I canna fathom. What pished me off even more is having to come to this place. It's a British Boarding school, which thinks it is the creme de la crème; but I'm telling ye; theys all bastards and cunts o' the first order. “Gentlemen” my arse! (And too many o them look at my arse!) And while I have tried to behave, I do have a bit o a temper on me, and this Jenks was the last straw; so I kissed him; not too hard, mind. His nose isne broken, just sore and bleeding. He'll be fine in a wee while.

Bennet says I am to report to the Housemaster at three thirty, which is after lessons. Then he takes Jenks off to the San.

As the day drags on, I wonder what they are going to do to me. I suppose it will be a 'beating' or a 'swishing', though hopefully not a 'flogging'. Mind yous, I don't know the difference. When I meet Al, my only mate in this place, he is all concern.

“Davy, dear boy, what HAVE you been up to? I hear you seriously damaged Jenks, what?”

Al, or The Right Honourable Algenon Templeton-Smythe, is the son of a Lord, and speaks with a right cuntish accent. He is though a great mate. I think he rather likes my 'take no shite' attitude; though has warned me that if I push too hard, 'They' will get me. “You cannot be too individual here you know, Davy. They won't tolerate it.”

“Aye”, I said, “I let the bastard get to me. What d'you suppose they will do to me?”

“Who have you to report to?”

“Housemaster, after classes.”

“Umm, well he may deal with you himself, which would mean a swishing. Or he might send you to the Head, which could be much worse. Do you want to be sent down Davy?”

Now that is a question, and if you had asked me yesterday if I would rather not be here, I would have said Aye. However, if I am expelled, my Da would be livid, and who knows what other trouble I would be in. So probably, best to try to avoid that.

“No, I think it best to stay.”

“Right, well you need to be ready to plead for that. And it will go easier on you if you show some repentance; genuinely I mean; none of your back chat. And try not to speak Scottish. The accent I realise a peasant like you can do nothing about; but curb the language and attitude.”

“Aye, fine. So what is a swishing?”

“Simple, a caning. Housemasters can only cane, or send you up, so if he thinks that's what you deserve he will give you one. He can decide to do it in private, or in front of the House. What ever either of them say, be polite, and take it without fuss. Once a beating is given, and taken well, all is forgotten. The slate wiped clean.”

“You English are cracked!” I said.

“Who reported you?”

“Bennett.”

“Could be worse. He will meet you at the Housemasters room. Do not knock, just wait outside. He only reported you because the offence was too serious for Prefects to deal with. And remember, he is on your side, so take his advice and let him help.

* * * * *

What a fool that McIntyre is!

Still I have some sympathy given the winging ninny that is Jamie Jenks. I took him to Sister and she confirmed that his nose is not broken, though swollen and sore. It should be fine in a week or so. He moaned and fussed like a girl all the time. I could see me thumping him too; but restrained myself, manfully. As McIntyre has taken all the blame, I have not told Jenks to report; though warned him I do not believe he is entirely innocent.

The Housemaster was rather difficult. Wanted to send Davy to the Head forthwith, but I persuaded him to at least wait and see the lad. It might come to a flogging, though if he just keeps his mouth more shut than open, a swishing should be enough. He does deserve one; and if so, I am sure it will be memorable. He is a good looking lad, and I get to watch! There are some opportunities for fun around here!

* * * * *

So the arrogant young scot is in trouble. I am surprised it has taken so long, as the reports I have been getting suggest that he does not know how to conform. This school is here to create gentlemen, and thuggish behaviour, wilfulness, and a failure to play the game will not be tolerated.

Bennett says McIntyre is an asset to the House and School, being very good at games, and quite bright. The other Masters also say he is clever; too cleaver by half as far as I can tell. Still I have agreed to see him and will hear what he has to say for himself.

* * * * *

The waiting is hell, but at last the bell goes for end of lessons. At the break I tidied myself up, polished ma shoes, and such, as Al suggested. When I arrived at the Housemasters door, I stood next to it and waited. I could'ne hear anything from inside, and as this is a dead end corridor no one passes. Bennett arrived.

“Now McIntyre, I am sure that Jenks is not an innocent party, so tell me now, between us, did he provoke you?”

“No Bennett. It was my fault. I should'ne have lost ma rag.”

“Right. Well old chap, I must warn you. The Old man wanted to send you straight to the Beak, but I have got him to see you himself. Your best option is to get him to deal with you, so play meek, mild and a model pupil, and it may not be too bad.”

“What does 'not too bad' mean?”

He looked at me as if I am thick. “The least you can expect is a stiff swishing, maybe eight. Have you been caned before?”

I shook my head 'no'. He gave me a supportive shrug and told me to wait here, then knocked and entered the room, closing the door behind him.

They did not use the cane in my other schools. I am not sure they used them in Scotland at all. We just got the leather. Sometimes a flat strap, though more often a taws with three or four tails at the striking end. I had it fairly often, about twice a term I suppose, and it left your hands red raw and swollen for a couple of days. The most important thing was not to show it hurt. The teachers tried their hardest to make you greet; and you did your utmost not to let them see they got to you. Of course all your mates were watching, so you had to keep face in front of them too.

* * * * *

When I went to fetch him I noticed a lot of the bravado had gone. He looked pale and vulnerable, which accentuated his beauty, and I felt rather protective towards him. Why this boy gets to me so much I cannot say; I just find myself looking at him whenever he is around.

At five feet nine, curly blond hair (too long), a masculine face, long straight nose, and wide mouth, with big straight teeth, he is very attractive. The bruise on his forehead reminds everyone what he is here about. He has broad shoulders and a narrow waist. Naked, you can see he is very fit, with no fat, just muscles, though clearly has not finished growing yet. Big feet and hands, with limbs too long for the body, which will balance out in a year or so.

It is very rare that we get new boys his age, just sixteen, and never before after the beginning of a term. So it must be difficult for him to join in. Still, his demeanour is actually quite a tonic. Though most of the school think he is an oike and scoundrel, I rather like him!

Standing before the Housemaster, looking more penitent than I have ever seen him, he looks the old man in the eye all the time.

“So, young man, you think assaulting your fellows and behaving like a delinquent is appropriate behaviour for a member of this School?”

“No Sir. I'm sorry Sir.”

“Have you any explanation for your conduct; or should I just put it down to your nationality and upbringing?”

(Crickey! The old goat really should not have said that! Davy's eyes flared like a flame thrower. Fortunately he kept calm.)

“It was neither of those, Sir.” (He said through gritted teeth – careful lad.) “I do have a quick temper, and do not suffer fools; but I know I should'ne have hit Jenks Sir.”

“So, he provoked you!”

“No deliberately Sir. It was my reaction that was at fault. I'm solely to blame.”

The master pondered for a moment. Then almost to himself said, “So what are we to do with you?”

“Please Sir, I know I have not made the best start here, it is all so new to me. Please don't send me down. I want to stay and benefit from this place.”

Another short pause and the Master stood, and while continuing to speak, went over to the book case behind him and took up a senior cane. He said, “Very well. Have you in your short time with us, had call to attend Prefects Common room for chastisement?

“No Sir.”

“They cannot cane you, only the Head Prefect of the School. The offence that brings you here necessitates a rather more”, he took a long thoughtful pause, while flexing, or caressing the cane, “exemplary thrashing. In part punishment; part deterrent. I trust that it will persuade you from repeating this barbaric, thuggish behaviour. Bennett, get him ready please.”

“Yes Sir”, I said, very relived that Davy was not going to the Head. “McIntyre, come here.”

* * * * *

The reasons I decided to cane McIntyre myself, despite believing that he richly deserved a birching, were firstly the sight of him, when he came into my study. Such beauty, and an independence of spirit that I felt it my duty to tame! And Bennett had said that the boy was a cane virgin. It has been many years since I had the opportunity to deflower one of those, not since my time as a junior prefect, when we took great delight in breaking in the new boys.

Still, inexperienced or not, he is in for a treat.

The look on his face when I let him see the weapon was a picture!

* * * * *

The Housemasters study was huge; almost the size of our wee apartment. I went in and stood in front of his desk, where he sat looking old fashioned in that cunty gown. With a bald heid and massive whiskers, the man is a joke. Still I canna help being frit. I try not to let him see it. It is warm and quiet in here. Book cases all round as far as I can see, though I keep my eyes front and at attention.

All the jaw! Back home they just called you out and belted you. The cane though!

Fuck, fuck fuck!

That thing looks dreadful. It's longer than I imagined, and thicker too, with ridges along its length. It's going to really mash up ma hands.

When he tells Bennett to 'get him ready' I canna think what he means. Bennett said something but I didna hear him. He comes over and steers me to the left, so I get to see more of the room.

One side is the study area, the rest a sort of front room, with big leather chairs and sofas round a fire place. Bennett turns me to a space behind the door, where there is a table like thing. It is higher than most tables, level with ma waist. Only eighteen inches wide, and five feet long, it is dark oak, with the near end badly warn. Bennett moves a wee stool away and tells me to stand at the end. Then speaking very quietly he says to take ma jacket off.

“Now lower your trousers and pants.”

What! Oh shite, I get it. I am going to get swished on ma arse. My bare arse! I nearly refuse but glancing at Bennett he nods and the look on his face says “Just do it.”

I have to bend over and lie on the top of the table, reach down and hold the legs on the far end. My chin is on the top, and Bennett says, “Put this between your teeth” and holds what feels like a wee stick to my mouth. I bite on it. Then he tells me I am to try to be quiet, though crying out will not increase my punishment. “What ever happens, do not get up until he or I tell you to, as you will get extras.”

Just then there is a knock at the door, and the Master muttering “who can that be?” goes to open it. There is talking going on, which I canna hear as the door is in the way. Bennett comes round the back of me and lifts ma shirt clear folding it over my back, and then pushes my trous and kecks down to ma ankles. I am naked from just below ma shoulders to my lower calfs. I am getting more frit and very angry.

As Bennett knelt down behind me, I felt some breath in my crack. What's that about?

All this waiting is hell. And now ma cock is getting up.

* * * * *

The interruption from Matron was annoying. When I had got rid of her and shut the door, I swished the cane as I took up my position. The view was all I could wish for; round pert and smooth skinned buttocks just waiting to be lashed. I take a position on McIntyre's left, with Bennett standing the other side, line up and take a couple of aiming taps. Nice tone and bounce on the bum, and it looks even better when the boy clenches. He will do more than that in a moment.

“You will receive ten strokes”, I announce. Bennett, damn him, gasps, and I silence him with a withering look. I take the cane well back, and after a suitable pause to confuse the boy, swing hard and fast, the whistling giving at least some warning. It strikes dead centre, and slides off. I do not know what McIntyre was expecting, but this seems to have been rather a shock.

A lot of panting and shaking, though the position over so high a table I have always found, minimises the ability to move. The deep red line acts as a marker for the subsequent strokes, which I lay alternately above and below the first.

* * * * *

Ten! That really is a bit steep, though he could have had a dozen or more with the birch. The most I ever got was nine, two years ago, and that was hell. Probably the same cane; you can tell by the deeper spots on the stripes caused by the knots, though if he follows through on all the strokes Davy will be bloody by the finish. I shall have to take care of him afterwards.

It is rather embarrassing actually, as I am getting excited by all this. The lad looks really good over the table, and he has to lift up onto the balls of his feet, as it is a little too high for him. Tightens everything up and really looks a picture. The bite stick is so far preventing him from crying out, though the loud breathing shows how much it must be hurting. He is getting clammy too.

I know I should not have done it; but with his pants at the top of his thighs made it so tempting. He smelt good. I wonder if he noticed me blowing down his bum.

* * * * *

He has shut the door and now is swishing the stick about. Frit increasing, ma heart pumping. He gives me a couple o taps. Hell, if it stings this much when he is just aiming, what is a real stroke going to be like?

'Swish, crack!' O fuck, that hurts. And it gets worse and worse. I clamp ma teeth onto the stick as hard as I can to stop cryin' oot. Breathe through ma nose like a fucking horse.

Now I'm used to pain. Had plenty o fights back in Glasgow, and the leather was hell, though I never had it on ma arse. The Head master was reputed to do that sometimes though no one I know ever got it like that. Even when Da belted me, it was not this bad. The sting and burn are terrible. Still I just let the pain drive ma anger and hate for this bastard. He's no getting to me.

* * * * *

Well that all went rather well. Very enjoyable. Stimulating if you know what I mean. The lad took it better than I expected. Still, serves him right.

I shall look forward to seeing Master McIntyre over my little caning table again as soon as possible. Do not expect it to take him too long to err!

Bennett needs to be less obvious. If I catch him having his wicked way, I shall ensure they are both flogged, with me as the Head's witness!

* * * * *

After it was over, I helped Davy dress, and took him to my study. He needed the damage seeing to, and so once he was stripped off below the waist, and face down on my bed, I gently washed off the blood. The welts were bad, thick and double ridged. The first eight were in parallel lines, though two were very close together. It had been the ninth, the first diagonal that broke him. Up till then he had held on and kept his mouth shut, though it was obviously agony for him.

The stick fell out of his mouth as he yelled. He stood up, which earned him two extra. Having got him to resume the position, I stayed at his head end and held his shoulders to stop him getting any more. From then on he yelled each time, the last strokes all being diagonals. These were the ones that caused the bleeding. The last two made him scream.

“What's your name?” he croaked while I was washing him.

“Adrian”.

“Thanks for helping me Adrian.” Then after a while, “Is that the way beatings always happen here?”

“Housemasters swishings yes, though rarely so many. Normally it's six, and with a smooth cane. The prefects, certainly at the house level, slipper. Though that's bad enough! The Headmaster of course can birch, though doesn't often.”

“Fuckin hell! What's that like?”

“Fortunately I have no first hand experience old son. I do know that it is different, and even a very modest six strokes will flay the skin off you. A dozen or eighteen are more usual. Just do your best not to find out, is my advice.”

* * * * *

It took quite a while for me to get up and dress afterwards. Bennett, Adrian his name is, though I must not call him that in company, was very helpful, and once I had shaken the bastard master's hand, and THANKED him, for whipping my arse (it's a fucking loonybin this place) we slowly left. I was all for slinking away somewhere quite, but Adrian said I had to get my 'bum out and washed off', so the blood didna stick to ma kecks, he took me to his study.

There I am, face doon, arse up, on this pansies bed, letting him ogle me, and clean me up, which I suppose is good of him, though he is obviously getting his rocks of doin' it. Thing is, I quite like it. Ma cocks up under me, so I hope he does'ne notice.

Its not that I have any experience with lassies either. Actually, the only experience I have had is wanking ma wanger. I havne been dein that long either.

After I have had a wee kip, he says to get up and dress. As I am about to leave he says that I must be careful, as no allowance would be made if I get in trouble again soon.

“Just because you have been caned, doesn't mean you could not be beaten again tomorrow, Davy”, he goes.

“Fuck me!” I say.

“Love to, old son; but better wait till your bum is healed up!”

I am speechless!

As I go down the corridor I think, 'Fuck me' again.

Later I cannot help wondering what it might be like!