The headmaster was at his most sonorous. He was reading a list of names. “And finally, Upper Sixth: Hawkes! Those people are to report for detention straight after school.” Dr Hines peered along the row of senior boys but Hawkes was not present.
“Creasey,” the headmaster moaned, “After assembly find Hawkes and tell him to report to my study immediately.”
“Yes sir,” the head boy smiled. It would be a pleasure.
Hawkes was in the bushes at the side of the school field. He popped out of the rhododendrons and looked down the slope to see if the classrooms were still empty. “Come on Janet, they’ll be out of assembly in a minute.”
They hurried through the bushes and over the muddy paths. Larry Hawkes ran across the wet grass, past the empty rooms and into the boys’ entrance round the side. Janet watched him go, then made her own way to the girls’ entrance.
Larry walked straight to a radiator and started to dry the two dark stains on the knees of his trousers.
When the assembly dismissed Larry still had his knees pressed to the radiator waiting for the natural colour to return to his trousers. His pal Terry Edwards joined him. “Hey up, Lar, where you been?”
“In the bushes.”
“Again! You’ll both get expelled if you’re caught.”
“I don’t intend to get caught.”
Creasy came in and watched Larry. “This is the third time you’ve been late this week and missed assembly, Hawkes,” the head boy whined.
“No it’s not,” Larry protested. “I’ve been here ages.”
“You haven’t,” Creasy snarled. “Dr Hines called out your name for detention. You weren’t there. He’s sent me to tell you to report to his study at once.”
“Oh heck,” Larry grimaced.
“It’ll be six, easy,” the head boy smiled malevolently. There was no love lost between the two.
“I’ll just dry off my trousers.”
“Shouldn’t bother,” Creasy smiled. “You probably won’t be needing them.” He hurried away to his first class of the morning.
Larry Hawkes took his time. He was in no hurry. Nothing he did or said could change the course of events. He had been summoned to the headmaster’s study, it would mean only one thing.
Satisfied that the knees of his trousers were dry he gathered up his bag and headed at a snail’s pace out of the building and across the quadrangle to Founders’ Building. The headmaster’s study was on the first floor. Larry gently tapped his own backside with his thumbs as he walked. He had been here before.
He stopped at a large oak door and tapped on the “M” of the nameplate. A voice echoed from within, “Come!” Larry turned the handle and put his shoulder to the heavy door. Dr Hines was seated behind his large mahogany desk. He rested back in his padded chair and peered intently at Larry as he stood in the doorway. “Close the door lad,” the headmaster snarled and snapped his fingers. “Stand there.” He pointed to a spot on the rug in front of his own desk.
Larry stood as generations of schoolboys in similar circumstances had stood: hands behind his back and head slightly bowed. The headmaster shuffled through some pages of foolscap paper. He paused, shook his head and growled. “Quite a litany of offences, Hawkes. You seem to have forgotten that you are a senior boy and as such are expected to show the younger ones an example. Instead you behave no better than a first former.”
“What have you got to say for yourself?”
Larry knew nothing he said would alter a thing. Matters had to take their course. “Sorry, sir,” he said quietly, although he wasn’t particularly. He was incorrigible and unable to follow rules. He would never learn. Not today. Not ever.
“Well,” the headmaster sighed, “If you insist on behaving like a junior boy, you cannot be surprised if I treat you as one.”
Larry looked transfixed as the headmaster slipped off his black gown and hung it on a hook behind the door, then took off his charcoal-grey suit jacket and hung that up too.
Then, slowly he crossed the study lecturing Larry about the headmaster’s shock and horror at his misdemeanours. He reached the cupboard. The door was already slightly ajar. He reached in an gripped a cane. He paced the large open space in the centre of the study, flexing the cane to and fro the whole time. He bent it almost into a circle, then let it spring back.
Larry’s head bowed lower and lower, his hands now clasped tightly his backside, as though trying to protect his tight bottom from the imminent chastisement.
“Right Hawkes. Take off your jacket, hang it on the door. Then stand in the middle of the room.”
Larry took his time. Matters had to take their course, but he was in no hurry to get on with them. He slipped the blazer off his shoulders and reached up to the hook. Slowly, he turned and took up the required position.
Dr Hines watched him thoughtfully. He flexed the cane once more and intoned, “Lower your trousers and underpants.”
Larry blanched. He had expected the cane. Perhaps even trousers down. But on the bare. That was unheard of. He looked intensely at the headmaster. His stare spoke volumes. He opened his mouth to protest. The headmaster cut him short, “Hawkes, you might want to consider the likely consequences if you refuse to accept your punishment. You will be immediately suspended from school and later expelled entirely. You are a bright boy and despite your abominable behaviour you should do well in your examinations. You could go on to the university. Why put all that in jeopardy?”
It was a long speech and Larry listened to every word of it. The headmaster held all the cards. Larry had no choice. A bare-bottomed beating would be a terrible humiliation, but what choice did he have.
“Trousers and underpants down,” the headmaster repeated solemnly. Larry reached for his belt. It was the second time that morning he had lowered his trousers and pants; the first time had been ecstatic. The trousers tumbled down his thighs and bunched at his shins. He slipped his thumbs under the waistband of his Y-fronts and helped them slip down. He cupped his hands over his privates; they were still a little sticky.
“Bend over. Touch your toes,” the headmaster swiped the cane through the air. “Touching your toes is a position normally reserved for the junior boys,” he said, “but it seems appropriate for you Hawkes since you are being punished for the sort of behaviour we normally associate with first or second formers.”
Larry reached for his toes. He was an athletic boy, the star of the nearby youth club’s football team, and his body was lithe and supple. Many of the local girls admired it. He stared down at his trousers bunched at his ankles. He concentrated on the label giving cleaning instructions. He felt his shirt being folded back so that he was bare from halfway up his back down to his ankles.
His buttocks were creamy white, hard and smooth, in spite of the hairs elsewhere on his body, particularly his legs.
Larry was humiliated and blushed red, but the headmaster had not noticed, he was looking at the cheeks of his bottom not the cheeks of his face. Larry reflected that only a few minutes ago he had had sex with his girlfriend. He was eighteen years old, but here he was, bent over touching his toes, like a junior boy, waiting to have his bare bottom lashed by the cane.
The headmaster stood to Larry’s left. He was a man of action. He studied the rounded buttocks presented before him and saw how the naked orbs seemed to twitch slightly and the two cheeks pulled tightly together as though trying to reduce their size so the cane would not have so much to whip down upon.
He didn’t waste time, tap-tap-tapping, taking aim. He drew back the cane and let fly. There was a hiss followed by a barely audible “hhhha.” Larry sucked in his breath sharply. Across the middle of his bottom was a crimson blotch that was slowly fading into a pink stripe. His bottom looked like a hot cross bun with a thin line at right angles to his deep dividing cleft.
The headmaster raised the cane and then whipped it down again, not too hard but with enough strength to make Larry hiss wildly.
The third vigorous stroke landed across the full meat of Larry’s backside, very close to the line of the first. His bottom danced franticly. Larry sagged and the agony was intense, Larry struggled to stay down in the “touch toes” position, he wanted to leap up and rub away at his scorching bum but he wouldn’t give the headmaster the satisfaction of seeing he had hurt him so much.
The headmaster laid the cane across the fullest part of Larry’s buttocks, making them jiggle. Then smoothly he raised it and brought it down with a quite a sickening Thwack! Larry gave a strangled gasping cry.
The cane bit into his hard bottom again. Once more he jerked as another scarlet line blazed across the firm flesh like a red-hot needle. Larry moaned softly.
Larry was expecting six strokes and bit his lip in anticipation that the final cut would be awesome. The cane whipped into the gentle underswell of his buttocks and needles of fire lanced through his whole body. He gasped and all the breath was expelled from his lungs, causing him to gulp for air, exaggerating and prolonging the sharp pain and hurting him beyond belief.
He writhed and moaned and yelped a bit while wriggling his backside from left to right.
“Stand up. Get dressed.”
Slowly, Larry unfurled himself and rose. It felt like his bum was on fire. He desperately wanted to rub away the pain. But that would have to wait until he was far away from the headmaster’s study. He pulled up his pants, wincing as the cotton pressed against his scorched skin. Soon his trousers were up and fastened and he was climbing back into his blazer.
Dr Hines was not a cruel man. He knew he had punished Larry severely and that the senior schoolboy wanted nothing more than to run away to the lavatories for a prolonged howl. He dismissed him curtly and Larry half-ran and half-stumbled down the stairs and out to the quadrangle.
He had a free period and so no class to run back to. As he entered the school building he saw Janet waiting. She greeted him with a beaming smile. “Been to the headmaster, I see.”
“Does the whole school know?”
“Probably, you know what they’re like.”
Larry made a joke of rubbing his bottom vigorously and kneading pretend tears away from his eyes.
“Well,” Janey shrieked, “Let’s see then?”
“Do what?” Larry laughed.
“Let’s see the marks then.”
Larry blushed, his heart raced. He took Janet by the hand and together they raced towards the bushes.
Picture credit: Sting Pictures
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More stories from Charles Hamilton II are on the MMSA website
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Charles Hamilton the Second