Your recent story The Smacked Bottom Exchange reminded me of my own attempts to engineer a caning after being teased by my mates. I was the only one of my group, at the age of 16 in 1968, who had never been caned and the others teased me incessantly about it. I was also the only one who was at the grammar school.
One day, I stayed behind at the last lesson so I could speak to the teacher, Miss Mason (name changed). She saw me loitering and asked if she could help. I knew she was willing to cane pupils as some classmates had been caned by her, so thought she might agree to my request.
I explained to her that I wanted to be caned and why. Sadly, despite my best efforts, she would not agree to it – but did hint that it might be ‘arranged’ if I misbehaved in her class. I replied that I would find that difficult as she was a good teacher. Dropping what was obviously another big hint, she replied that even a minor offence, such as chatting in class, might be sufficient. I left her at that point and spent the night, pondering on what she had said.
The next day, Miss Mason was teaching us in the second period, and I decided to chat to a classmate see what her reaction would be. She spotted me and immediately sent me out of class for disrupting her lesson.
About five minutes later, I heard the distinctive sound of a lady’s high heels clipping along the corridor. Shortly afterwards, I saw Mrs Grant (name changed), the Senior Mistress, approaching. She spotted me and asked me why I was outside the classroom. I explained and she sent me to her office. As I made my way there, she went into the classroom to talk to Miss Mason. At this point, my emotions were extremely mixed – part of me was excited that I might get caned, but a bigger part was fearful of the pain that punishment might entail.
Mrs Grant re-appeared a few minutes later and ushered me into her room. She immediately laid into me, accusing me of talking in class and being cheeky to Miss Mason. She then walked to the corner and selected a senior cane and ordered me to remove my blazer and bend over the chair.
I bent over obediently and Mrs Grant lined up alongside me. The first stroke whistled down centrally, making me gasp as the pain burned across my bum. Four more strokes duly followed, well spaced down my bottom, before the sixth hit the sit spot where a boy’s bottom meets his thighs. To my relief, Miss Grant walked away and told me to stand up. I rubbed my bum as she made an entry in the punishment book. Finally, she read me the riot act before dismissing me.
I walked back to the classroom via the toilets. I checked my bottom in the mirrors and saw six neat red lines. I touched them carefully and felt the ridges. I washed my face and walked back to the classroom.
When I entered the room, Miss Mason looked apologetically at me before telling me to sit down. At the end of the lesson she called me over. She asked if I was alright, to which I replied yes, even though the pain was unbearable. She admitted she had set me up somewhat, knowing that Mrs Grant was doing a patrol that lesson and she a;sp embellished my offence. I smiled as thanked her, then left for my next lesson.
That evening I showed my stripes to my friends, proud at finally having joined the group. It had been my first caning and I felt fulfilled. I went to bed that evening and touched my stripes, realising that the feeling sexually stimulated me, and I was soon masturbating madly.
That should have been the end of the story – but there was a twist in the tail, if you’ll pardon the pun. The following week, I forgot my homework and was awarded a detention. In turn, I completely forgot about the latter and failed to attend, resulting in a visit the next day to the headmaster’s study. He gave me six strokes on top of my previous beating, resulting in even more pain. Even worse was the fact that my set up caning had been unnecessary.
Nevertheless, I found the caning arousing and got another two beatings before the end of the school year, one from Mrs Grant and one from Miss Mason herself, in the last week of term. On that occasion, I wondered whether Miss Mason realised I was deliberately cheeky to her as I really wanted her to cane me. She was a stunner and the sight of her holding the cane soon had me erect inside my pants. As soon as she finished, I hurried home and again masturbated wildly.
The result of those canings led me into the spanko world which I have enjoyed. I met Miss Mason a few years later but she never mentioned my canings, despite my best efforts to lead the conversation.