Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. *************************************************************************** ********************************************************* *************************************************************************** ********************************************************* *************************************************************************** ********************************************************* * * AN ILLUSTRATED .PDF VERSION OF THIS STORY MAY BE OBTAINED FOR FREE FROM robertgreen@operamail.com * *************************************************************************** ********************************************************* *************************************************************************** ********************************************************* *************************************************************************** ********************************************************* I woke up, dismally wishing that I did not have to go to school. I usually enjoyed school, but I was really not looking forward to it that day. I dressed carefully, making sure that I was wearing full school uniform. I didn't want to give the Headmaster any excuse to give him extra strokes. As I pulled on my underpants my hands felt the soft skin of my bottom. I knew only too well what the cane would do to the tender pink flesh? I briefly considered wearing another pair of underpants, but discarded the idea immediately. I had heard a rumour that a boy had tried this on with The Headmaster, who had made him take down my trousers and both pairs of underpants and had caned him on the bare. I did not know if it was true - no one ever knew who the boy concerned had been - but if the story was told then it was clear that boys who knew thought that there was nothing unbelievable in supposing that The Headmaster could notice an extra pair of underpants worn for protection. If that was so I wasn't going to take the risk. I drew on my grey school shorts wishing that my parents had let him wear long trousers. They had insisted on my wearing the shorts because they knew that I was going to be punished and thought it more humiliating for me to have the others boys seeing me in short grey trousers. I winced at the sudden thought that some of the strokes might be aimed low and land below my shorts onto my bare flesh. Desperately I grabbed at a more comforting thought - The Headmaster might go easier on me, thinking I was younger than I was. At school I was not surprised when in the second lesson a prefect looked in and said that I and Christopher Collins should report to the headmaster's office after school. I found it very difficult to concentrate after that for the rest of the day. Christopher was worried too but found it easier to mask his concern than did I. Unlike me he had not been caned before so didn't know how hard the Headmaster laid the stick across boys bottoms. At four I and Christopher made our way down the corridor to the headmaster's office. They knocked at the door and went in. The headmaster was really very angry, he said that he knew the sordid little games that Christopher and I indulged in and that he was not going to tolerate that sort of perverted behaviour at his school. He was, he said, determined to make examples of us that would deter both them and any other boys from being tempted to play such deviant games with each other. The Headmaster launched into a long lecture about the awful thing the boys had done by playing with each other and how we had damaged the school's reputation and upset our "poor" parents. I felt thoroughly ashamed of myself when he had finished and Christopher had tears running down his face, due to embarrassment at being found out I suspected. The Headmaster turned to a cupboard behind him and selected the senior schoolboy cane. The headmaster bent the cane almost into a semi-circle to demonstrate just how flexible it was. Then I told Christopher to move a chair into the middle of the room, and to bend over it. He looked almost as though he was going to be sick when he was selected to be first. As he bent I was presented with a perfect view of his bottom, clad in its long light-grey trousers. The Headmaster warned Christopher not to get up until told to, but didn't tell him how many strokes he would be getting. I was shocked at how hard he lashed the cane down. It was much harder than a caning in class. Christopher screamed loudly at each stroke but just managed to retain his grip on the chair. After the sixth stroke there was a pause and finally The Headmaster told him he could get up. He was sobbing loudly and cradled his bottom in his hands as if it was too painful to touch. He was made to stand against the wall, facing it, with his hands on his head. Now The Headmaster turned to me. 'Get a move on, Green!' he said angrily as I hesitated. Drawing a deep breath I slowly bent over the chair. I closed my eyes, clenched my teeth and gripped the bar. My grey short clad bottom felt horribly exposed. I sensed the headmaster raise the cane and then heard the SWISSHH as he whipped it down. WHACKK! I felt the impact but there was a time-lag before the real pain hit me. When it did come it was much worse than I'd expected. My bottom was filled by a frightful burning, searing pain. Just as the stinging was reaching its most excruciating point the cane lashed in again. WHACKK! It took all my willpower to stop myself yelling. I could feel tears beginning to trickle involuntarily out of my closed eyes. But I didn't want my friend to think that I was a coward. I felt the headmaster rest the cane across the middle of my shorts and gripped the bar of the chair even tighter, my knuckles turning white. WHACKK! The third cut seemed to hurt even more than the first two, and I gasped audibly as the new level of pain blazed across my bottom. Desperately I tried to think of something pleasant, anything to take him mind off the agonising reality of the caning, but my mind refused to budge from the intense pain. I prayed that the next stroke would be the last. WHACKK! My hands left the bar, to go to my anguished buttocks. Somehow I forced them back. I felt my legs kick wildly; I seemed to have lost control over my body. I was breathing in deep quavering gasps and I realised that I had started to cry audibly. Surely The Headmaster would now tell me to get up. WHACKK! No. Instead I felt another stroke land over the existing weal's. This time I couldn't help himself and I yelled out loud. I wanted to beg The Headmaster not to give me another stroke, but before I could do so the cane had landed. WHACKKK!! It was the hardest stroke yet and sounded like a pistol shot. But I hardly felt it! The nerves in my bottom were already registering maximum pain and couldn't cope with any more! At last I heard the Headmasters voice telling him that I could get up. my hands went straight to my bottom. I could feel how wealed and swollen it was through the material of my shorts and underpants. I tried to bring myself under control. The Headmaster made me stand next to Christopher with my hands on my head as he was. I couldn't stop crying. Christopher was still crying as well. We didn't really speak on the way home, only once when Christopher asked how the school had found out, I knew it was because of a letter that my mother had sent, not saying that we were actually playing with each other but intimating that we might be. I think that Christopher would have blamed me if it wasn't so painful to walk with our newly caned bottoms. When I got back home I immediately went to my bedroom and took off my shorts and underpants. I looked at my bottom in the mirror, it was terribly bruised already and I knew from previous experience that it would turn blacker and mauve as the evening progressed. I started to cry again but I knew that if I didn't do the washing up that had been left from the morning I would be in even more trouble so I went to the kitchen and start it. There was a gentle tapping on the front door, not someone using the knockers or the bell just a light tapping. I went to it. I didn't know whether to open it or not, I was naked from the waist down to my grey socks, eventually I did open it but placed myself behind it so that only my head would show to whoever it was. It was Laura Collins. "You can't be here" I told her "we'll get into trouble" She looked up at me, sweetly. If you don't let me in Robert I'll tell my dad you touched my knickers under my dress" "But I haven't" I said "No but he won't believe you will he, and you know what will happen don't you" I nodded "Let me in then" I opened the door and she walked in, quite haughty as if she were in control. She looked at me, I tried to cover my little Willy but she wasn't interested. "My brother is laying on his bed crying, he's taken his pants off too, let me see you bottom" I turned round so that my back was towards her "Lift up your shirt" I obeyed her. "You're a lot worse than he is, how many strokes did you get" "Six, I think" "Let me count" I felt her tiny fingers on my bottom touching each of the welts. "One.......two....three...four.....five....SIX, yes SIX" she almost shouted at me "were you and my brother very naughty" "Yes Laura, we were" Suddenly she seemed bored with my bottom. "Would you like to see my knickers Robert?" "I.....er....." I turned to face her, forgetting she could see my little Willy. "Would you?" she began to lift her blue gingham dress, she looked coyly at me "would you?" I remembered Mr Collins wrath from the last time I had been in a situation like this. Her dress was halfway up her thin legs. "If you guess the colour I'll show them to you" she teased "you'd like to see them wouldn't you Robert" "Pink" I guessed "No not pink" she said "try again" "Blue, to match your dress" I said, getting more interested. "Why is your willy standing up Robert" she asked, I looked down at my nakedness below my waist, I had a small erection, which was getting bigger. "Does your willy stand up when you've had the cane Robert?" "Do you like it when daddy smacks your bottom Robert?" "Do you, shall I tell on you and get you the cane again Robert" "WHITE" I blurted out "YES" she confirmed "you win" She raised the skirt of her dress up above her waist, revealing a too large pair of white knickers with a cartoon duck on the front. I gazed at them, knowing I was getting even more erect "You are rude" she said, and was suddenly gone.