The following story is fiction about CP in a school setting. The story contains scenes of spanking and caning. If these subjects are offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please leave now. This is the first part of the trilogy. Please note that the setting is in a remote location of unspecified nationality so that all the usual conventions of a British public school do NOT have to be followed.
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I was discouraged. The summer was drawing to a close and I, now decorated with my shiny new degree, had not yet found a teaching position. Then I saw the advert for Staghorn Island Public School looking for a junior master. Although the school was on some small and distant island I had never heard of, the interview was right here in London. Acting immediately, I called emailed my CV and had an interview scheduled right away.
Dressed absolutely appropriately I arrived a few minutes early complete with the Times crossword puzzle partly done to pretend to work on it. I was surprised that there were several others waiting and that they were all boys each with an adult. I soon learnt that the school was also interviewing prospective students as well as staff.
The Headmaster who interviewed me immediately offered me the position as he was surly quite impressed by me. I was to be a general fill-in should any of the Masters be indisposed or require assistance, supervise prep and other things as the need arose. Experience had taught the Board of Governors that an extra person in such a remote place was absolutely necessary.
* * * * * * * * * *
The remoteness of the island really registered with me as I sailed on the trice weekly ferry on the long journey to the island to my first professional position. The island lived up to its description in the school's brochure and web site. The village was just that and looked practically mediaeval with a population of less than a couple of hundred people. They made their living from farming, fishing, a small tourist trade for old fashioned hunting and work at the school.© YLeeCoyote
The school was impressive. It was an old estate manor house, no, that does not do it justice for then it was more like a palace. Centuries ago the island was someone's fiefdom but now that time was long past. Land was cheap here and the school had playing fields for seeming everything. The pupils were all from rich families who wanted their troublesome brats safely stored as well as educated and were willing to pay high fees.
The building had suffered much damage over the decades that had been abandoned and then it was extensively renovated with classrooms and an extensive library for the school proper and quarters for the staff, dormitories for the students and a refectory. Even a modern plumbing system had been installed. It was made self-contained with extensive food and fuel storage to survive the sure to happen winter disruptions in deliveries. Villagers were employed for non-academic needs. The villagers were happy about the school because of the work it provided meaning coveted extra income.
For the most part the school was operated like a traditional British public school. There were classical school uniforms for the students and Masters' gowns for the teaching staff as required wear. Happily I can say that their blazers were not the clownish sort that some places require. The lower form boys even had to wear lined short trousers. They also had PE kits although they were allowed to be in casual wear off hours. It took me a few days to get used to wearing a Master's gown.
Of course, with such a traditional set up one would expect corporal punishment in the corresponding way. You would be only partially correct. It was there but instead of being sent to the Headmaster there was a Tribunal that dealt with it every Friday afternoon.
The Tribunal was essentially a court run by the students. Everything was public – the accused were called, charges read, witnesses and complainants gave testimony, defence was allowed and then the panel decided. It was surprising fair. There was not the undercurrent of resentment that I knew from back in my own school days where things were pretty much arbitrary. I was, to put it in just one word, astonished.
Watching the Tribunal at work was most interesting. The third time I found it very special so I shall report on those proceedings.
* * * * * * * * * *
I'll start with the case of two fourth forum boys. They were caught fighting by a couple of the prefects. Fortunately, there were two prefects so that the offenders could be pulled apart quickly. Both Prefects reported the same events and the defendants admitted that the reports were accurate. They constantly glared at each other as rival teens do.
The Tribunal came to a decision very quickly as there was not any dispute about the facts. The sentence was, literally, by the book as they consulted the standard punishment list although they had the authority to deviate from it. The two would each get eight cuts of the cane with the allocation being six for fighting and the additional two for messing their uniforms.
Punishment was, as always, immediate delivered. Each youth was required to drop his trousers and underpants prior to bending over conveniently placed stands, obviously designed for the purpose of supporting boys to be caned. Two Prefects were chosen by lot by having their names drawn from a bowl to carry out the sentence. Everyone else watched the fun happy that they were not on such an embarrassing stage with their bare arses (and a lot more) on display and awaiting painful caning.
The entire process of the sixteen cuts at the rate of four a minute took less than five minutes but it was a great show. The two swishers alternated and the targets were absolute models of stoic youths. If one watched closely, one could see how each butt flexed as the cane struck hard and then rebounded. The marks were slower to show but they came quickly enough. It was hard to tell if the process seemed to take as long as movie or was as quick as sneeze as it was so entertaining.
The Tribunal was not finished with the pair. There was an additional stipulation to the sentence – the two had to fight. It would not be a street like-brawl as before but under the direction of the PE Master the next day in gym. It turned out to be a wrestling match and quite a few turned out to watch, including your faithful narrator. It was a good fight since they were evenly matched and very enthusiastic. Afterwards they were happily talking perhaps on the way to being friends now having found some respect for each other from sharing the same ordeal and testing each other.
* * * * * * * * * *
I immediately felt sorry for the little first form lad who was next brought before the Tribunal. It was obvious that he was terribly scared of the process and being watched by the entire school which currently was the entire population of the, make that his, universe. He may have been crying even before since he was sniffing, blowing his nose and wiping his eyes with his handkerchief even before his case was called.
He had talked back to the most arrogant history master who not only knew everything but never made a mistake. Naturally, he was doomed in such a situation. I hoped that the Tribunal would be merciful.
The little one was sentenced to a spanking which certainly would be less horrid than the junior cane but perhaps far more embarrassing. However, he did not have any options and even if had he, probably would not have known how to exercise them.
The Perfect, chosen by lot, to administer the spanking took his place on the simple but sturdy chair in front of all. The lad had to remove his blazer and then face the music. The spanker opened the boy's belt and lowered his lined short trousers and briefs leaving him bare arsed. It was then over the spanker's lap and held in place.
He got twenty-four hard spanks by hand OTK. One could see that his bum was getting redder with each spank. Then the sole of large Plimsoll was employed for an additional six whacks on his already red arse for which he had to lean on the spanking stand. He had been crying by midway through getting the hand spanks which then changed into bawling from the painful application of the Plimsoll sole.
He was a wreck by the time the punishment was over. The Perfect stood him up and pulled up his underpants and shorts. The Matron took charge of the bawling lad immediately as he required comforting and perhaps more. I hoped that his mates would not tease him excessively.
* * * * * * * * * *
The third form boy who appeared before the Tribunal next was impeccably dressed. He admitted to having being a mess, with his socks down and his tie loose while running in the hall. "I had the runs and was trying very hard to get to class before I was late." he explained simply and directly. The poor lad had been in a no-win situation then and he knew that it was about to cost him now.
The Tribunal, in its infinite wisdom, gave him a choice with its decree, however. "We have lowered the severity because of the uncontrollable situation you were in, however, you are still culpable. You may select either twelve from the slipper or six from the cane." It was not necessary to state that they would be on the bare arse.
The lad responded within seconds. "The cane, please." It certainly was a brave act and would surely help his status with his mates. He continued with his macho response by immediately heading for the caning stands and getting into position. He certainly was a good model.
The selected Perfect did not keep him waiting but approached quickly. Perhaps he was impressed like I was. It was over in just a couple of minutes. The cane was brought down on the lad's exposed arse for the six cuts ordered. There were six neat and parallel tracks developing as the lad pulled up his briefs and trousers. I don't think it was as hard as it could have been which I was glad of. I was certain that his mates would carefully examine him later in their dormitory room. He really showed his mettle by shaking hands and thanking the Prefect in good form.
I wondered if he was the first of his form to get the cane. He took it apparently very imperturbably. I think it bodes well for him.
* * * * * * * * * *
I couldn't believe my ears when I heard the bailiff call out "Junior Master Troth". I immediately questioned my colleague, a long time Master at the school, sitting next to me about this being a joke. He was all seriousness when he replied. "There is never any joking at the Tribunal. You have been called. You had best go face the charges before they come for you."
There was not anything that I could do but stand before Tribunal and learn what this was all about. I did not have to wait long at all. There were charges from many of the pupils from various classes that I had. They all came to the same thing. I had not kept proper control on class discussions and so was failing at my job.
I argued that truly free discussion was necessary for the greatest development and a few withdrew their complaints. However, there were still a score left so I was trapped. The Tribunal took a few minutes to confirm my deficiency and to pass the sentence. "Six-of-best with the senior cane." was all the First of the Tribunal panel said passing sentance.
When the Perfect selected by lot was called he smiled broadly. I assumed that he knew that he would enjoy doing his duty. Later, I confirmed that it was very rare to have the opportunity to cane a master so it was a special privilege I hoped I would not disgrace myself in front of the entire school. I got help removing my Master's Robe and was lead to the punishment stand. I had to lower my trousers and underpants and then get into position by myself. It would have been really shameful to require any assistance or to have the hold down straps used. I just grabbed the handles and waited.
There was a practice swish and I knew the first cut was about to happen. Then I felt the cane on my bare arse as the Smiling Perfect got into position. I was nervous. I had not experienced the cane for almost a decade and I was not anxious to do so but I did not have a choice now. I hoped that I could take it as well as I did back when I was a school boy
And then I heard the horrid SWISH foretelling the imminent arrival of the red-hot rod to hit my tender flesh and sear it. I was thankful for the thing to bite on to keep me from yelling and disgracing myself. I could only imagine what I looked liked to the rest of the school as the pain reverberated through my body. Then came the second cut. It was just like the first and hurt exactly the same way. How could I not think how the pupils were enjoying a master, albeit just a junior master, getting caned in front of them? It was absolutely terrible. It got worse when the cane landed on my tender flesh for the third time. It took all my will power not to yell or jump up. I was concentrating on my reputation and it strengthened my resolve. I wondered if this happened to all new masters and especially new junior masters?
But that did not stop the onslaught for cut four was not delayed but right on time. It seemed like it was alongside the first three. I stopped thinking about the audience for the pain was filling my body got my entire attention. The fifth cut was across the first four. The bastard that was caning me had made a gate. That would hurt longer. And there was one more to go. I figured that it was going to be a double gate which would be even worse.
But the nasty Prefect had a different idea. He was through with my arse and instead went for the super sensitive crease twixt bum and thigh for the sixth and most vicious last cut. When it landed it was worse than the others. But, thankfully, it was the last one and the caning was over.
I pulled up my boxers and trousers without facing the audience. I wished that I could run and stick my marked tail into a cool clear lake of a soothing anaesthetic. But that was not to be. I had to just put on my gown and return to my hard and now most uncomfortable seat. Anything else would be 'suicide' for my job since I would be a laughing stock. Now quite humbled I had to grin and bear it.
Fortunately, there were only two more not so interesting cases for that session so twenty minutes later I was in a cool shower and wishing I had some cooling and smoothing cream to apply to my abused posterior. It was late, however, and I had to rush to dinner so I was already looking forward to a great jerk off session in bed like I had back in my school days. If only my friend, Prefect Lamont Hastings-Templer, when we were in school was here to take care of me as he did back in those days.
All I could do was wonder what the pupils thought and how they would react and treat me in the future. I did not get any indications at dinner, however. I was glad I was not on duty that evening and retired promptly to my quarters to get to bed early and take care of essential business.
© Copyright A.I.L. January 1, 2018
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Last updated: September 15, 2023