Shaped by the cane

I attended an international school on the continent of Africa in the 1990s and 2000s – I can’t give any more specific details on the school to protect my own privacy.

The school had students from over 40 countries while I attended, primarily African nations though also students from the US, Australia, Canada, France, Germany, Hungary and a few other countries. Most students were children of diplomats, soldiers, CEOs of international companies and rich expats. It was a boarding and day school and I was a boarder for seven years and a day student for three, having attended a primary school in Wales until the age of seven.

The school was pretty unique, though none of us realised this until we were older – it was a blend of modern US and UK educational standards and traditional African values. In some classrooms, in the later years, we had modern electronic boards as is standard in the UK and US while in others we still had ancient blackboards stained with the film of years and years of chalk. The dormitories had mosquito nets over the beds and video games consoles in them.

The cane ruled the school. Officially, only boys were meant to get it and only up to ten cuts on the clothed behind in private – but this wasn’t the reality. Our teachers were mostly from the US and UK and our classes were all in English.

Positions for punishment varied significantly. Teachers from the host country had us assume a stance somewhat like a press-up to be caned, while teachers from the UK would have us bend over a desk or a table. American teachers, meanwhile, mostly had us bend over and put our hands on our knees.

We were caned often and hard, though severity of punishment varied widely, and often very unfairly. For example, my maths teacher was an older English man who gave six strokes for any and all infractions. However, I witnessed a 14-year-old girl getting six strokes for forgetting a textbook, while a boy who had set his desk on fire get exactly the same chastisement.

I had been smacked at home as a small child in Wales, but this ended before I got to the school, and I was never smacked at primary school because CP had been banned in UK schools by that time.

The first time I got the cane I was eight years old, and it was quite soon after my arrival. I was in a shellshocked state, in a new country, missing my parents and my old school. I didn’t understand the rules surrounding food in the mess hall and had taken too much food on my tray. We were obliged to finish all we took and I couldn’t finish the stew I had.

A supervising teacher took me to the hallway and told me to put my hands on the wall. I did so and he gave me three quite soft strokes. I cried a bit but the pain soon went and I understood the rules from then on.

Moving back to Wales when I was 19, after a period of living with my parents, was a very strange experience. I made friends and went to uni but discussing school was always rather bizarre. I’d tell stories of being caned for hunting beetles in the courtyard while my friends could only offer stories of detention for stealing crisps from the corner shop. The contrast was, and still is, quite surreal. 

When I see professional dominatrices now, they are often impressed by how much caning I can take without crying nor squirming. However, I learned it over 10 years at that school, and I enjoy delighting kinky friends with my stories from that period.

Perhaps surprisingly, I’m glad to have lived the life I have, including being caned so often as a child. It hurt like hell and I have a couple of scars on my backside from particularly strong lashings – but it has fed my erotic mind for years.

Contributor: Anonymous

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