My First School Caning
|by Ben Dover|
Copyright on this story text belongs at all times to the original author only, whether stated explicitly in the text or not. The original date of posting to the MMSA was: 07 Apr 2002
Despite attending a Catholic boarding school, I had reached the age of 15 and had never been caned. Even at prep school I had never had to bend over for punishment. By and large this was because I kept out of trouble. I didn't smoke, I kept my mouth shut and I studied hard. But corporal punishment was strangely fascinating and, well, arousing. Even at primary school when sexual arousal was infrequent, I think, the occasion of a beating caused me some predictable and slightly uncomfortable stiffness.
Although extremely curious about canings etc, I was also fearful and certainly never planned to get caned. I was not that anxious to satisfy my curiosity. So how did I find myself outside the form-master's study?
It was all a misunderstanding. In class there had been a discussion about pre-marital sex. Fr Bryan suggested that a man and woman should not live together unless they were married.
"Why?" I asked.
"Because one thing leads to another and they'll end up sleeping together."
"But the priests all live together...."
Some of my friends were in fits of laughter. I meant to conclude ".....but they don't sleep together " but I never got the chance. Fr Bryan was purple. He shook.
"Silence!" he shouted. And there was. My heart thumped.
Still shaking with anger, Fr Bryan took a piece of paper, folded it in two and handed it to me.
"Get out of my class" he said.
Embarrassed, I got up and walked awkwardly out of the class. In the corridor I opened the piece of paper and read:
Fr Moore, Please punish this boy for insolence.
My heart thumped again. Maybe it would be alright. I felt a bit dizzy. What was I going to do? Maybe I should nip up to the dorm and put on a second pair of underpants. Just in case things turned out bad. Could he tell if you padded up? And then what? I looked at the note again. Insolence was underlined. "Oh God" I thought. I was definitely going to be caned. What would it be like? What if I got a hardon? Shame upon shame. I headed for the dorms and hastily put on another pair of Y-fronts. I tried to arrange myself so that any tumescence was not too visible. My mouth was dry.
I stood outside Fr Moore's office, my heart pounding, my body trembling, petrified. I knocked softly. No reply. I waited. Still no reply. Now what? I knocked a little more firmly and held my breath. Still no reply. I shifted my weight. I could do with a pee. Should I go? Might as well, I thought, and started to head up the silent, empty corridor to main school toilets.
"Schawtz!" I jumped at the sound of my name and looked up from the floor. Lost with my thoughts I hadn't noticed Fr Moore glide down the corridor towards me.
"Why aren't you in class?"
"Um....Uh..Fr Bryan sent me, Father." I took the note out of my shirt pocket and handed it over.
Back down the corridor we went, much quicker than I'd been walking before. My heart was racing. This is really happening I thought. Events were moving towards a conclusion that would not be to my liking and I felt powerless.
We were now inside his office. I stood; he sat and listened to my story.
"You think you're funny, Schawtz, but your not funny. You've got away with smart Alec remarks for too long. Can you give me any good reason why I shouldn't cane you?"
I shook my head. He stood up from behind his desk and walked over to the cupboard near the window. I watched as he opened the cupboard and took out a cane. It had the traditional crooked handle. I had never even seen one before. He pointed to a spot on the carpet and said:
"Over there, facing the desk"
What terrible words. What fantastic words. I was scared stiff but at last I was going to find out what it was like. Would I be able to take it? How many strokes? Bending over with my hands on knees I looked at the floor. I could see his shiny black leather shoes out the corner of my eye.
I heard the cane singing through the air and then Whack! into my backside. The first stroke. Startlingly loud and with a bit of a sting but not as bad I expected. I'd be OK: I could take a few of these.
Ow. Now that really did sting.! Thank God for the extra padding. Did he mean to hit so hard? I closed my eyes.
I sucked in some air and held my breath. He must've landed that one right in the same place. It hurt like a burn. There was a pause. Were we finished?
"Aarh" I let out a little grunt. That was a vicious one. A little lower than the others. No more, please. Thank God, Fr Moore was returning the cane to the cupboard. I straightened up and put my hands on my burning buttocks. Looking down I hastily moved my hands in front to cover the slight tenting that had arisen despite the earlier precautions.
I was awash with adrenalin. I headed straight for the bogs to check the damage and have a wafty crank, as we used to call it. After all it's dangerous to to wander around with a loaded weapon.
My first caning. Quite a satisfactory one in retrospect.