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The following story is fiction about school CP.  The story contains scenes of slippering and caning.  If these subjects are offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please leave now.

This work is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission.  Personal/private copies are permitted only if complete including the copyright notice.

The author would appreciate your comments – pro and con, including constructive criticism and suggestions.  Please take a moment to email.

Justice Served


Lansford was in a daze.  His last memory was that just a couple of seconds ago he was running across the gym with his slipper raised high and poised to bring crashing down on his favorite bare bum which was being duly proffered as a sacrificial target as he had commanded for the second WHACK.  Then less than a second before it was to smash the target again there was an intense flash of light.

Then black.  Darker than pitch.  Totally black and totally silent.  Lansford was falling.  No, more like being in a twister.  Or plummeting into an abyss.  Perhaps in a wormhole.  To say that he was startled would be the understatement of the decade.  He was also terribly confused.

Again without any warning, things stabilized drastically once again.  "Stand up, Lansford," were the words that first got through "The judge is entering the courtroom." as he was poked in the ribs.

That last word echoed in his head.  Courtroom?  What courtroom?

"Pay attention, boy." the barrister whispered.  "You don't want to irritate the judge."  Gradually, as voices droned on, his head cleared and he heard the charges against himself being read out in open court for the world to learn of his supposed crimes.  How could this awful thing be occurring to him – a fine upstanding young gentleman of almost eighteen years and even the Head Boy in an outstanding school?  They were such strange charges like assault, abuse of power, using a deadly weapon and more.  Obviously this was serious but surely there was a mistake.  It must be some sort of mixup and, most certainly, he should not be here in the first place.© YLeeCoyote

There was a long parade of witnesses.  They were all young males who were lower class boys or perfects at his very own school.  The former group made horrendous false accusations about him being a vindictive, sadistic bully who abused the powers of the Head Boy repeatedly and even boasting about it while the latter group surprisingly supported them.  His own barrister seemed reluctant to challenge the bloody lying accusers.

Even the jury looked strange.  They were ever so young and they all were boys in school uniforms although they did not match.  Didn't jurors have to be adults?

"They are your peers." was all the barrister would say when he questioned him.

It was all so confusing.  And never had he been attacked with such vengeance.  Everything was wrong.  It went on for hours, many long draggy, painful hours.

Then the jury retired to discuss and decide.  Surely they would be right back and the nightmare would be over.  But once again time was dragging.  The barrister suggested that they might be disagreeing on the sentence rather than the verdict.  Surely that was wrong – there was probably some stupid holdout.

Then they returned.  Lansford almost fainted when the foreman said: "We find all proven as charged!"  The judge looked grimmer than ever.  The now convicted defendant was called before the bench for sentencing immediately.  The judge spoke in a solemn tone but all that registered was the end of the sentence.  "… and six-of-the-best every Friday publically for a year."  In a wink the courtroom cleared and his barrister bid him farewell as the court officers took him back to the holding cells.

Lansford made the big mistake of resisting and the officer gave him a good hard shove that propelled him forward into the cell.  He slammed into the wall hitting his head with a great thud and dazed, crumbled to the floor.


And all went black once again.

* * * * * * * * * *

Lansford was on the floor of the gym.  He had crashed into the coach which was like running into a brick wall as the huge man was built like the proverbial brick shithouse.  "Get up Lansford." he barked.  Slowly, he got to his feet.  "What the hell were you doing?" continued the coach angrily.  "Running to slipper a boy is forbidden!"

Lansford was glad he was back in the normal world where he had power and the opportunity to exercise it and away from wherever it was where he would be swished every week.  But he knew, even here, he was in trouble and as the scalding lecture went on the hole he was in seemed to get deeper and muckier.  "Give me that slipper."  He obeyed and the illicit can of shoe polish fell out.  "And weighted as well.  What in the world were you thinking, boy?"  The coach was a stickler for the rules and good sportsmanship.

Lansford looked about and everyone had vanished except the boy he had been slippering and who had already redressed to the point of putting on his blazer and was watching quietly.  "Why was he slippering you?" the coach asked him.

"Because I went on the grass in the quad to get my hat where some upper classman threw it, Sir."

Lansford admitted that was the offence and he had decided on the slippering.

"Drop 'em and get over the horse, Lansford."  Lansford complied although he was shocked that he would be in such a position considering his exalted rank especially with a lower class boy watching.  His thanks to his lucky star that nobody else was about was immediately shown to be premature for just as the loaded slipper connected forcefully with his bare bum for the first whack, a huge gaggle of boys entered for their gym period.  They immediately gathered close to watch the coach demonstrate the proper slipperring technique.

Each smack was nerve shattering being expertly served by the very strong and very angry coach especially with the extra weight of the shoe polish can.  They hurt almost as much as the cane had a couple of years before.  Over and over they came until his bottom was flaming red, swollen and extremely sore.  He had no idea of how many hard painful whacks he had received before he was dismissed although he had no doubt that he would vividly remember this painful and embarrassing experience for a very long time.

As they observed the boys quickly came to the unanimous agreement that getting slippered by the coach, compared to by a prefect, was a far more painful experience.  However, they all enjoyed watching the hated Head Boy getting it.

* * * * * * * * * *

The real horrors occurred the next morning in assembly.  The Head talked about responsibility and fairness as he publically lectured the disgraced Lansford in front of the entire school even citing many complaints.  The first part of his punishment occurred immediately as he lost his highly prized position.  On signal, Matron snipped a few threads and then the Head dramatically ripped his treasured head boy badge from his blazer.  It goes without saying that he would have to vacate the wonderful suite he enjoyed as Head Boy and rejoin his classmates in far more pedestrian and shared quarters.

"You are getting twelve-of-the-best, Lansford." said the Head continuing with the punishment.

And then things got worse for that would not be in the privacy of the Head's study for he commanded: "STRIP, Lansford."  The disgraced ex-head boy was stunned and hesitated.  "Strip, boy, for that is what you made your victims do."  Slowly Lansford complied as everyone watched.  His many victims were especially delighted as they saw justice in action.

"Over the bench." was the next command and Lansford saw that a heavy punishment bench had been wheeled to the front of the dias and that there were two prefects standing by it.  Lansford was amazed at how quiet the assembly hall was as he got into position which immediately exposed his most hidden parts to all the school.  The two prefects each grabbed a wrist so that he could not jump up.  Nor could he prove that he was man enough not to jump up as he was thrashed.  No matter how well he took the punishment, it would be remembered that he was held in position.

Without any delay, Lansford felt the cane on his naked bum as the Head got into position.  He heard the fearsome SWISH and then felt the painful first impact that seared deeply.  It was the heavy senior cane, he realized, that the Head had chosen as he clenched his teeth to keep from yelling.  The pain was most intense.

Then cane bit again and again seemingly with ever growing fangs.  He so much wanted to jump up and yell and to rub the pain away but the two prefects held him tightly in position.  He had to stay put and bear it without any sense of control.  He had quickly lost count to make things even worse.

The third time the cut landed in the sensitive crease between bum and thigh he screamed.  The pain was unbearable.  Perhaps it was good that he was being held.  There were snickers in the audience.

The last two cuts crossed the others on his ravished bum as the Head made a double diagonal gate.  Both cuts elicited screams to the observers' delight.  He was not permitted to get up until everyone had left passing close by to see his well-beaten booty.  He could hear the Deputy Head Boy telling them to move on.

It was not until after all classes that he was able to collect his stuff and move to his new quarters where he was assigned the least desirable bunk in the dorm.  He could feel how his status had totally crashed.  He was dreading the future already.

The End

© Copyright A.I.L. August 28, 2019

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Last updated:  September 15, 2023