The following story is fiction about an unfortunate lad whose has a very bad day running afoul of authorities who spank him repeatedly. The lad's bum is attacked by slipper, cane, tawse and even a spoon. If this subject is offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please leave now.
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Lamont Penrod did not get off to a good start this day. He managed to sleep through the alarm and would have spent the day in bed if his mum had not come in and roused him. He dressed quickly and rushed for the train with his satchel in one hand and breakfast, just a bun to eat on the train, in the other. He had to rush to entire way for he was late. He sprinted the last hundred yards and just managed to get on the last carriage. After he caught his breath, he devoured the bun which did not satisfy his growing boy's appetite. The school was at the end of the line and the train was delayed a few minutes because the opposing train that had the use of the single track was late.
Penrod bounded off the train and rushed to the far end. As he passed the station office door he saw that a sock was not pulled up and, reflexly, he paused to pull it up before a prefect or master saw that it was bunched about his ankle and slippered him. The other students were far ahead and he rushed to catch up. He would not be late if he was with the others. Before he could catch up to the group, they turned into a narrow alley. He was about to follow but he was too late. The way was blocked by a large bin being pushed slowly his way that was practically as wide as the narrow passageway. Penrod had to wait until it made its way through before he could continue. He rushed through the alley and ran after the others. They turned a corner as he heard the town clock ring out the hour. By the time he turned the corner and saw the entrance to the school the gate was already shut. He called to the gate keeper who slowly returned and let him in. "Late again, Penrod." the sour-faced man grunted as he pulled out a notebook and made an entry. "See the Head before the end of the day."
He hurried as fast as he dared to his first lecture fearing being caught running in the passageway. He was almost to the door when he heard his name being barked. He froze and saw that it was Fitchett, the nastiest prefect in the school. "The day has just begun and already your socks are drooping like an old man's thing. Now that you are in the fourth form you should know how to dress, Penrod. See me in my study before PE."
As he entered the classroom, a powerful voice boomed out: "How nice of you to join us, Penrod. Since you're late, you may read your prep for the day."
Penrod rested his satchel on his desk and searched for his prep in vain. "Sorry, Sagmiller, I left it at home."© YLeeCoyote
Sagmiller looked at his record book. "That's four times, Penrod. Front and center and get into position." The drill was familiar and he was soon bent over the stool with his blazer lifted up. "This is the fourth time, Penrod. Shorts off." The unhappy boy stood, undid his gray school shorts, letting them fall to the floor and resumed his position over the stool with his bare bum exposed to the delight of his classmates. He was not wearing pants with his lined shorts. Sagmiller took the cane from the wall and got into position. It took him less than two minutes to deliver three hard cuts perfectly spaced and straight across Penrod's bum. "You get an extra for having to be told to drop your shorts." That fourth cut was right in the crease and stung like hell. Penrod resumed his seat, smarting as he connected with the hard wood seat.
"Canings are fun", thought his classmates, "provided that another lad's bum is the target." They each planed to make a close examination in the showers at the end of PE.
He suffered through the lesson and the next one also.
His third period was PE but he had to see Fitchett first. More precisely, his now striped bum was scheduled for a discussion with Fitchett's slipper. Penrod pulled up his socks for the umpteenth time and knocked on the prefect's study door. The orders came fast. "Blazer off. Drop 'em. Position." which Penrod did. Only then as Fitchett was about to deliver the first whack did he see the tram tracks. "Well, I was expecting an unmarked canvas, but this one is better." WHACK! Penrod felt it all the more as it hit the ridges left by Sagmiller's cane. He got a full six leaving his bum quite red about the tram lines. "Get to PE now."
Penrod rushed to the gym and quickly stripped to put on his sports kit. It would not do to be late again. Since the others had run out before him, he was not an exhibit. He knew that after class, in the showers, it would be very different. Penrod was absolutely right about this. His forum mates knew he had been caned and wanted to see the marks. They were most delighted with the nice red background and a few even guessed that it had been Fitchett's slipper that applied the color. It was only the appearance of the PE Master that saved Penrod from the continuing attention of the others.
Penrod went to the Head at the beginning of lunch. He had a long wait for the Head was very busy and then did not have time to discuss anything. He checked the note from the gatekeeper. "You were late again, Penrod. Six." He immediately ordered Penrod to assume the position as he fetched the cane from his cupboard. Because, he was in a rush, he did not tell Penrod to drop his shorts but immediately applied the cane to the bent over lad's covered bum. The Head's excellent technique, even though he was in a rush, had Penrod biting his tongue to prevent himself from yelling for each of the six hard cuts on top of the four he had received earlier.
Leaving the Head's study, Penrod immediately headed for the bogs to check out his most abused tail. He was glad that he was alone and quickly dropped his shorts and examined his damaged bum in the mirror. It was a mass of tram lines – ten of them – and still red from the slipper. It was then that two first form lads bust in and were immediately drawn to the spectacular exhibit. Penrod tried to pull up his shorts but the two did not let him as they were most anxious to study the art collaboration. Each of them held the waistband in one hand (preventing Penrod from pulling them up) and caressed the marks with the other. That was until the Head Boy entered.
"Stop. Stop immediately." he barked. "Penrod this is disgraceful conduct and with first formers." He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a slipper sole. "Bend over." The two first form lads backed away having decided that the risk of being slippered themselves was well worthwhile to see Penrod get it on his already sore bottom. It was a very good show. The Head Boy was delighted that the wicked lad he had just caught corrupting the two younger ones would feel his punishment even more. WHACK! Penrod yelled. WHACK! Penrod howled. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Penrod stopped howling and was crying. WHACK! WHACK! Penrod was bawling from the pain. Two delighted first formers left as soon as ordered knowing that all would want to hear their eyewitness report of an fourth form boy getting slippered to tears on his most recently caned bum. "You're a despicable." snapped the Head Boy, "Pull up your shorts and return to your class." Penrod obeyed and wished that he could clean up but there was not any time. There was certainly not any time to try to get something to eat. The next three classes dragged as he was starved and was hurting as well.
At long last the final bell rung and Penrod made his way back to the train station. It was hard to walk because of the pain from the two canings and the two slipperings he had received this disastrous day. His luck did not change even though he just caught the train. The platform man was just about to close the last door of the last carriage as the train was starting to pull out and helped him on. As the door slammed shut and the lock snapped, he knew he was in trouble. He was in a compartment with three prefects. He was trespassing on their turf and he was trapped.
He was trying to think of a way to apologize, when he was again cited for fallen socks. "You just don't learn, Penrod." said Fitchett. "I slippered you this morning for that." he reminded him.
"I guess that you did not do it hard enough Filchett." said another perfect. "But I have just the thing here in my satchel." Maloy then extracted a tawse. "This will make a proper impression." His mates readily agreed. It was a bit cramped in the compartment but Penrod was soon positioned. His shorts were pulled off and he was bent over leaning on the door. Each of the prefects gave him six cuts. He yelled and howled, sobbed and cried as he was severely strapped. He begged for mercy, but just got extra for being such a sissy. They ejected him at the next station and tossing his satchel and shorts out also. "Be sure to keep your socks up, boy." Penrod had a long wait for the next train.
It was dark as he made his home. As he crossed the motorway, he had to jump to avoid an auto but he slipped and fell into a mud puddle landing painfully on his very sore bottom. Penrod felt that safety was close by as he walked up the alley to the back door of his house after this disastrous day. Mum would be there making dinner and it would smell ever so good. He opened the door and as soon as he entered his house, his mum exploded. She had been stirring the cooking pot with the big wooden spoon. She grabbed Larmont and gave her mud covered son a half dozen on his thighs with the big spoon and sent him to change.
The bell kept ringing. He had fallen out bed and his alarm was going off. It had all been a terrible nightmare. He reached over and turned off the alarm and went to the bathroom. He realized that his butt hurt terribly. When he examined himself, he could not see any tram lines nor was his butt red. So why did his bottom hurt like he had been caned, slipped, tawsed and spooned? He wondered for the entire day.
NB: Brits are likely to have noted that the language is not pure British. This is intentional for Lamont is not an Empire lad and has only read about British Public Schools although he dreams about them.
© Copyright A.I.L. May 18, 2009
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Last updated: September 15, 2023