Joe sipped on his pint in the crowded bar and tried not to seem too obvious checking out the two lads with him at the table. Everything felt fine, he thought, they’d finish their beer, maybe have one more and then head off upstairs for a little fun.
He already knew one of them, at least by sight and reputation. He was short, fresh-faced with closely-cropped black hair. He was about twenty but put him in school uniform and he could pass for seventeen. He called himself Chad. Chad!, Joe guffawed when he first heard this said, he wants us to think he’s American, he scoffed, ‘I bet he’s never been further West than Swindon.
He didn’t know the other lad’s name. He was taller, wiry, fair haired. He could never pass for a schoolboy, not with his broad shoulders and pock-marked skin. His teeth were pretty bad too. Joe didn’t mind, it wasn’t the lad’s face he was interested in. He had already checked out his flat stomach, snake hips and sturdy legs. He hadn’t had the pleasure yet but he was sure the kid had a backside to die for.
They sipped beer together as if they were old pals rather than three people who were meeting for the first time. The Three Fishers was that kid of pub. People came to meet other people, people with similar tastes, the same interests. The two lads knew why Joe, who must be somewhere in his sixties, and who had nothing obviously in common with the twenty-somethings, had got a conversation going. Everything was relaxed. They would enjoy this evening.
Joe was telling them a story, a true one, about himself back in the 1970s when he had been at college. He stayed in a rooming house, there had been six ‘paying guests’ in total, all of them young men, students at the nearby university. At some time in its recent history the house had been a school, you could see how one or two of the classrooms had been converted.
‘There was a building, in the ground but a long way from the main building,’ Joe explained the background of the story between sips of beer. Chad listened politely. Old people were like this, they knew, always wanting to talk about the Good Old Days.
‘We were warned never to go in there. It was dilapidated and the roof was in danger of caving in. Somebody could get killed, that’s what our landlord told us.
‘Well, somehow we got to thinking he was lying to us. That there was something mysterious hidden in that building, something that he didn’t want anyone to know about.’
‘I had a pal called Tim, he liked a bit of adventure – and so did I – and one day, late autumn it was, he sidled up to me at the university one lunchtime and he said, “Meet me back at the digs after lectures, I’ve got something incredible to show you.”
‘Well, you can imagine I was hooked. What did he mean? I couldn’t wait for my tutorials to be over and late that afternoon I hurried back to our rooming house.
‘So, what do you think it was?’ Joe asked and when his two companions were unable to answer, he continued, ‘It was only a key, the key to the ramshackle building. Well, I was so excited I can’t tell you. We were going to explore inside this old mysterious building that nobody had been in for maybe thirty years; before we were even born.
‘It was dark and I couldn’t help but feel a sense of exhilaration,’ Joe said and then trying to inject some suspense into his tale, he added, ‘Little did I know what our escapade would lead us to.
‘The lock was rusted and Tim had to sneak back to his room for a can of the oil he used on his bike. It took maybe an hour before at last we got inside.
‘There was no light so I’d brought a torch and the thin beam that produced made the whole room feel eerie. In the gloom we could just about see the place was full of old-fashioned school furniture: desks, a couple of blackboards, cupboards with doors hanging off. Well, I can’t tell you how disappointed we were. Did we expect to find a chest of treasure? Well, maybe in my imagination I had hoped for something like that.
‘Then Tim gave a whoop of delight. Yippeee!, something like that. “Look what I’ve found!” He had opened an old wooden chest and was pulling out several of those old academic gowns schoolmasters used to wear. The black, flowing ones that made them look like Batman. And there were some fine-looking school blazers; blue with white stripes, very posh.
‘He pulled a blazer on and it fitted him quite well, he was a small kid so that wasn’t a surprise. I could never get into one.
‘It was while I was having a go tugging one on when Tim went back into the chest. “Yippeee!” he went again. It wasn’t actually “Yippeee!”, but you know what I mean. My eyes popped out on stalks. He was holding a long, thin, whippy curve-handled school cane.
‘I’d never seen one before. True, this was 1975 and the cane was still legal in schools but I went to a liberal comprehensive and we didn’t have C.P. I’d seen drawings of canes in comics and there were one or two films on TV with schoolmasters with canes. I remember drawling over Goodbye Mr. Chips, when it was shown one afternoon. Of course, we didn’t have videos and the Internet back then, we were starved.
‘So, Tim is just as excited as me with this wonderful find. He starts swishing it through the air and flexing it in his hands. It was quite a heavy cane, not the sort of thing you’d use on little kids. This was definitely one for the senior boys, sixth-formers getting six-of-the-best. Well, my imagination ran wild.
“‘Bend over and touch your toes, it’s a swishing for you m’lad,” Tim was really getting into it. I’d never told anyone before about my dreams, my fantasies, I was too scared people would think I was a freak. I couldn’t tell anyone that I wanted to have my bottom spanked. Slipper, belts, hairbrushes, the cane, I thought about them every night in bed. I assumed I was the only one who had these feelings and now here for the first time I’d met a pal who seemed to have the same thoughts.
‘So, of course, I leant forward and touched my toes. It was a strange feeling. I’d often done this at home on my own in front of the mirror in the passage, just to see what I would look like, bending over in my school uniform as if I was in the headmaster’s study at some posh public school, submitting myself to the cane.
‘But this time, it wasn’t just me on my own. I was actually bending over, touching my toes, so someone could give me a real caning.’
Joe took a long swig of his beer and eyed his two companions. They were listening politely. They might have the same desires as he but they had quite a different personal experience. The cane had been banned before they were born but with videos and online shops it was perfectly easy to see ‘real’ spanking and caning acted out on screen. Canes, paddles and all sorts of C.P. toys were easy to find. And, there were places like The Three Fishers. No, Joe concluded, the youngsters today didn’t know they were born.
Joe took another swig and continued his story, ‘Tim started to tap the cane across my bum. My heartrate was off the scale. My cock was straining against the front of my pants. “Do it, do it,” I silently implored him. Tap-tap-tap and then the cane lifted and he patted my bum with the cane. Nothing. Never felt a thing. I cannot describe my disappointment.’
Joe laughed and politely the two lads joined in.
‘“Come on,” I says, “you can do better than that. Really do it. Like you meant it.”
‘Just then the door flies open. I leap up totally embarrassed. Tim doesn’t know where to put the cane. It’s only Mr Thornton, our landlord.
‘Of course, he looks around the room, sees the open chest and the academic gowns and Tim wearing a striped school blazer and holding a cane.
‘“Boys,” he thunders, “what are you doing in here?”
‘Well, it was pretty obvious what we were doing, but Tim, who, now dressed like a schoolboy reverts to acting like one. Like he’s in the third-form at boarding school and been found out of the dormitory. So, Tim stammers, “We… we didn’t mean any harm, sir. We were just exploring.”
‘Even in the gloom, I could see Thornton’s eyes narrow as he quickly summed up the situation. Well, if Tim could play the little schoolboy then Thornton could play the headmaster. He put on this fake voice, speaking like an old-fashioned headmaster might, “Exploring were you,” he exclaims, “you have been expressly told never to enter this building. It is dangerous. The roof could fall in. You might be injured, killed even.”
‘He had a point. I did really feel a bit ashamed. But also very excited. This was just like being back at school. Not the modern comp. I went to but one of those Billy Bunter public schools that I read about and dreamed of attending. So, I kind of joined in with Tim. “I didn’t mean it, sir,” I went on like I too was thirteen.
‘“Didn’t mean it,” he explodes. “What tommyrot. How could you break into the building and rummage around without meaning it?” I saw him staring at the cane in Tim’s hand. “You deliberately disobeyed my express instruction not to enter this building.” Thornton was becoming more and more animated. He was no longer our landlord; he had become our headmaster.
‘“You are in enough trouble as it is, don’t add lying to the list of misdeeds.” I stood trembling. What with fear? Maybe, but more likely excitement. Then, he faced Tim and he says “Hand me that cane.” Tim does and I can see he’s as worked up as I am.
‘“I saw what you were doing when I entered the room.” He swishes the cane and my heart goes through my mouth. He is! He is! I couldn’t contain the excitement. “If it’s the cane you want,” he says in a really pompous headmaster’s voice, “then it’s the cane you shall have.”
‘Then he points his cane at one of the school desks and he says to Tim, “Bend over that desk.” I’m trying not to cream my pants with excitement and Tim must have been much the same because without a moment’s hesitation he’s striding across the room to the desk and he practically hauls himself over in his eagerness to offer up his backside to Thornton.
‘Headmaster Thornton stands beside Tim and starts to rub the cane across the lad’s beefy backside. Even in the gloomy room I can see Tim has a fantastic bum. I’m surprised I never noticed before. In his blue-and-white-striped blazer he looked every bit like a sixth-former at a posh school. Caught out in some misdeed and about to be punished by the headmaster. A good, old-fashioned caning.
‘I stood slack-jawed while Thornton took his aim, raised the cane and landed it with a resounding thwack across the seat of Tim’s jeans. Dust flew off the denim. Tim wriggled and held on to the far end of the desk. That hurt, I could tell. Any apprehension or fear I might have changed to envy. I so wanted to be Tim, bent across the desk submitting his backside to the headmaster for the whacking he so richly deserved.
‘He got six. Then it was my turn. If anything, I was even more eager than Tim to get over that desk. I had imagined this on so many nights in bed. Now, it’s for real. I’m stretched over the wooden desk holding on its legs for dear life. My bottom rests over the desk’s edge at an angle to receive strokes of the cane. I close my eyes and wait for the first stroke to land, determined to savour every moment of this, my first caning. Whack! I heard the cane swiping my bum maybe a second or so before I felt the pain. And what pain! Like a hot wire had been pressed into my flesh. It shot through my whole body and I had to grip hold of the desk legs to stop myself jumping to my feet and rubbing my bottom.
‘Mr Thornton took his time. There was maybe thirty seconds before he gave me the second stroke. This landed a little bit below the first and set my bum afire all over again. My hips were shimmering now, and my legs stomped up and down. In my fantasies I had only ever imagined what I would look like bent over an armchair, a desk or across Uncle Jack’s knee; never had I sopped to even consider what a spanking or caning would actually feel like.
‘It hurt like crazy, of course it did; that was the point of the exercise. Corporal punishment is exactly that: punishment. It is supposed to hurt that is the very point of it. It hurt but also it did something I never expected. It did something to my head, it made it lighter, I was euphoric, it was like taking mild drugs. I was enjoying it.
‘Of course, it turned out that Thornton had been into C.P. most of his adult life and he had a lot of experience wielding that cane. He quite took my arse off that evening I can tell you.’
Joe drained his glass, ‘Thornton had the building cleaned up and the roof made safe and he turned the room with the desks into a schoolroom of sorts. Me and Tim had many more visits across that desk and I must thank Thornton for introducing me into this world.’
He waved his glass at the two lads, ‘So, one more pint or shall we go upstairs for a little fun?’
David was first off his feet, ‘After that tale I can’t wait to get started,’ and so they made their way to the stairs.
Picture credit: Unknown
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Traditional School Discipline
https://traditionalschooldiscipline.blogspot.com/
More stories from Charles Hamilton II are on the MMSA website
Also writing school stories as Scholastic here
Charles Hamilton the Second
Male on male spanking stories 
West of Swindon, you say? Here be dragons.
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