I recently read the story Waiting for it on this site and it struck a chord with me, as I am sure it did with other readers. I went to a strict grammar school in the 60s and all caning was carried out by the deputy headmistress, Miss Halsall (name changed – Ed). I am not sure why corporal punishment was not administered by the headmaster, but I didn’t know anyone who had been caned by anyone else.
I found myself getting aroused when waiting for the cane once in the fourth form but noticed it my erections more in the fifth form, perhaps partly because my bottom was tougher by then and the pain of the cane seemed less.
I got caned three times before my GCE exams and realised that would probably be my last experience of such a punishment, as I was not planning to stay in the sixth form. Despite my best efforts to earn a caning in the two weeks after the exams, I was not successful – it was almost as if teachers tolerated more rowdy behaviour during this period.
I decided that I really wanted that feeling one last time before leaving school, so I came up with a plan. I sneaked into my form room and found a pad of ‘incident report’ forms in the teacher’s desk. I took some and immediately left.
That evening, I forged one of the forms, entered an offence of disruptive behaviour in class and used my form teacher’s name, forging her signature as best as I could. The next day, I reported to the school secretary with the forgery. She entered the details and told me to report after school. I was really excited and could hardly wait for the end of the school day.
When the final bell rang, I was already excited and reported to the secretary. I was told to wait outside Miss Halsall’s office. Two fourth form girls were already awaiting their fate and a younger boy joined us shortly afterwards.
I felt myself getting aroused, both at the thought of my own caning but also at the prospect of the girls getting their bottoms whacked too. My manhood was soon erect and a bulge appeared in my trousers. One of the girls obviously noticed it and whispered something to her friend, but before anything could be said Miss Halsall came out of her office and called the young boy in.
The two girls and I listened intently as he received his whacks. Shortly afterwards, the boy came out and ran off down the corridor, rubbing his sore bum.
Then Miss Halsall summoned the first girl in. Her friend forced a smile at me as we listened again. We heard four strokes before the door opened and her friend emerged, red faced and also rubbing her behind. She whispered something to her friend before walking off. The other girl was soon called in, I heard four more strokes, and soon afterwards she emerged like her friend and walked off.
My time had come and I was ushered in. Miss Halsall was very calm. “I’m surprised to see you here, Peter,” she said. “Now then, why do you think it’s acceptable to disrupt lessons?” I didn’t really have an answer to that. I mumbled an apology and hoped she would just get on with it.
Then she dropped a bombshell. “Well, Peter, I have spoken to your form teacher. It may surprise you to learn that Mrs Taylor (name changed – Ed) told me she couldn’t remember such an incident occurring.”
I felt a blush spread across my face as she continued. “Indeed, she denies filling in this form and, as she pointed out to me, the signature on it is nothing like her own. So, now I’m waiting for an explanation.”
My throat was bone dry – naively, it never occurred to me that Miss Halsall would speak about the matter with my teacher. In the end, because I couldn’t think of anything better, I stammered: “It…it was a part of a dare, Miss.” Her face grew graver. “I see, and who else was party to this stupid prank?” Of course, I couldn’t have ‘told’ even if it wasn’t part of the unwritten schoolboy code not to, so I just hung my head and remained silent.
She picked up the cane. “Very well. I am going to cane you severely for forging an official school document. Take off your blazer, Peter.” My head was swimming as I obeyed. “Now, stand at the side of the desk and drop your trousers.”
This wasn’t a surprise – I had been done like this before. For serious offences, Miss Halsall operated the ‘one item of clothing’ rule. I slipped down my trousers, noticing as I did so that I still had a hard-on in my pants. Miss Halsall came over to my side with the cane.
“Right, Peter. This is a very serious matter indeed and I’m afraid I have no option but to give you the severest punishment I can. Take down your pants too, then bend over ready.”
I was now horrified that Miss Halsall would see just what was in my pants and I protested but she cut me short. “It’s a very simple choice: either I cane your bare bottom – and it will hurt very much – or I will recommend to the headmaster that you are expelled.
I knew that having being expelled on my school record would have a serious effect on my future job prospects, so I was left with no choice. I awkwardly drew the front of my pants down over my erection, then hitched the back down and slipped my underwear down to my ankles. I bent over and felt the cane being tapped against my bare bottom as Miss Halsall took aim.
She gave me six absolutely of the best, much harder than any previous canings I had received. Finally, she ordered me to stand back up and turn to face her. I had not anticipated this either and was now totally aware of my stiff penis pointing straight up. There was a smile playing around Miss Halsall’s lips as she read me a final lecture before telling me to get dressed and dismissing me.
As I examined the cane marks on my bottom at bedtime that evening, I had a feeling that Miss Halsall had known that my story about the dare was a lie and guessed at my desire to be punished, even if she couldn’t herself fully comprehend a boy actually wanting to be caned.
This feeling was confirmed some years later when our paths crossed again at a school reunion. Miss Halsall and I got chatting about old times and eventually the subject of the cane came up. As we chatted, I felt my penis harden once more. Miss Halsall noticed the bulge in my trousers and remarked wryly: “I see it still does something for you, Peter.” I blushed like I was a schoolboy again.
Who knows where the conversation might have gone – sadly, others came over to join us and the chat once again became more general.