The new Head at Albion School
Original Fiction – for adult eyes only
I soon discovered that discipline was extremely lax
across the whole school from the youngest to the most senior boy. Morale among
the staff was low as they had few sanctions to use when the boys misbehaved.
The imposition of lines or an hour’s detention are sufficient for minor
indiscretions, but what could one do with the repeat offender or the boy who
commits a serious matter.
I make it my business to teach at least one sixth-form
class each term and that gives me the opportunity to get to know some of the
senior boys. I was aghast from the very first moment I set foot in the
classroom. The boys were slovenly in their dress (and a great number of them
were overdue a visit to the barber), inattentive in my lessons and slack in
their studies. I would not have tolerated this at my previous schools and I did
not intend to do so at Albion.
The sixth-form boys were not that different from
others I had taught. Like all eighteen-year-olds they were under the
misapprehension that they were no longer children. And as ‘adults’ they
supposed the rules of the school did not apply to them. There was also the
occasional act of rebellion. That is quite natural, however, it is the
schoolmaster’s duty to reign the boys in. They must be given clear boundaries
as to their behaviour. They are told these are the rules and here are the
penalties for breaking them. Naturally, the whippy, rattan cane is the ultimate
penalty. But not at Albion.
My sixth-formers were out of control. As soon as I
realised this I announced a clear set of rules. I expected homework to be
handed in on time. All the boys should be prepared for the lessons and be able
to contribute intelligently to the class discussions. They would wear correct
uniform (including the school cap). They would be expected to be on the school
premises at all time, even when not required in the classroom.
So far, so good. I had set out the boundaries, but I
was unable to announce a set of sanctions for those who broke the rules. Drat,
the Board of Governors, did they not realise how they hampered the smooth
running of the school. I have to report that there was no change in the boys’
behaviour of any note. I imposed extra essays to boys who failed to do their
homework. I realise the futility of such a punishment when the original offence
was not doing work. I was loathe to set detentions as I would have to supervise
them and that would eat into my valuable time. Oh how I yearned to swish a cane
across a few backsides. That would bring the brats to their senses.
I was at home one evening sinking into a depression
when the solution struck me. You might say it was a ‘eureka moment’. The answer
was simple. I almost slapped the heel of my hand across my forehead when I
thought of it. The blithering Chairman of Governors had said he opposed the use
of the cane but he had not forbidden me to use corporal punishment. I settled
back with a glass of whisky and began to plan.
Of course, the cane is not the only instrument of
punishment used by schoolmasters. There are many who use a gym shoe, or a strap
of some kind. Our Scotch friends have used a two or three tailed taws for
generations. Our American cousins use some kind of miniature cricket bat to
paddle the backsides of their boys. In truth none of these were easily
available to me. If I wanted to make an immediate impact on the level of
misbehaviour at Albion I would have to be creative.
I had the opportunity to launch my new regime the very
next day. Rawlinson and Anderson were two of the more incorrigible rogues of
the sixth-form. In the past I had cause to berate each of them over their
personal appearance and their slacking in class. Now, they had been discovered
‘out of bounds’ during school day. They had skipped into town for reasons of
their own. This action was against my expressed instructions. They would have
to be punished severely. At any other sane school that would have meant
six-of-the-best across the seat of the trousers. But not at Albion.
I am a man of great self-confidence (I could not have
attained the position of headmaster if I were not) and I had no doubt at all
that my plan would work. It was lunchtime when I heard a timid tap on the door
of my study. As expected it was Rawlinson and Anderson. I have to report that
they did not have the manner that I would expect from boys sent to the headmaster’s
study after breaking a clear rule. In short they did not seem in the least bit
worried. They did not actually say out loud, “What do we have to be worried
about?” but I could read their thoughts in their expressions. I would soon
knock the cockiness out of them.
They had not bothered to attend in their full school
uniform. It was as if they had just popped in for a social chat. My blood began
to simmer. They wore the regulation white shirts and pale-grey trousers with
the dark-blue tie with the school crest. Where were their blazers, their school
caps? When I demanded an explanation all I received were incredulous stares.
Clearly, it had not occurred to them to dress formally. Rawlinson had neatly
cut hair but his companion’s mop of unruly curls fell across his forehead and
threatened to cover his eyes. I decided not to press the point; I had bigger
fish to fry.
I snapped my fingers indicating that they should stand
in front of my desk. They slumbered forward and slouched. “Stand up straight!”
I barked. My tone of voice disturbed them and they made a perfunctory effort. I
have many years of experience dealing with naughty schoolboys. I don’t beat
about the bush (only about the bottom – sorry that’s a headmaster’s joke) I
read the charges, they offer explanations, I pronounce sentence and it is
carried out immediately.
So it was that I asked Rawlinson and Anderson if they
knew the rules about leaving school premises. They did. Had they been out with
out permission. They had. So they were guilty as charged. Now I was ready to
pronounce sentence. “You will take off your trousers and underpants and place
them on my desk.”
Rawlinson’s jaw dropped; Anderson’s eyes stood on
stalks. They were dumbfounded. I repeated my instruction in a harsher tone,
adding “I am going to spank each of you.” for extra explanation. Rawlinson’s
chin wobbled. He now understood that I was serious. Anderson was made of
sterner stuff, “But sir,” he babbled, “You .. we .. you ...” He wanted to
protest but in the confusion of the moment he was unable to find sufficient
words. While he gibbered, I rose and took up a straight-backed wooden chair and
placed it in the middle of the study. Then I turned to the boys, “Don’t dawdle.
Afternoon school begins shortly.”
I will not trouble you with details of the
conversation that ensued. But in summary it went like this: They thoroughly
deserved the spanking they were about to receive, if they chose not to accept
it they would be sent home immediately and later suspended and expelled. They
would not sit their exams and their futures would be ruined. It was entirely
their choice.
I am pleased to report they saw sense. I grant you
that it would be difficult for eighteen-year-old boys to disrobe in front of
one another and their headmaster in the way I demanded, but Rawlinson and
Anderson were up to the task. Their regulation school shirts were long and
covered most of what the prudish prefer to call “their private parts”. I
ordered Rawlinson to face the wall, I sat on the chair, spread my legs, glared at
Anderson and in time-honoured fashion intoned, “Bend over my knee.” I have no
doubt that generations of naughty boys have heeded the instruction from their
fathers or other family members but not from a headmaster. I grant you my
method of discipline was unorthodox for a school but we must blame the blasted
Chairman of the Governors for that.
I have no knowledge of Anderson’s homelife. I do not
know his father or his father’s views on punishment. What I can say with total
conviction is that once my intention to spank him on his bared bottom was clear
he gave no resistance. He looked down at my lap, took a deep breath and then
slowly and with some expertise lowered himself forward. He stretched his arms
forward and placed the palms of his hands on the carpet. He was a tall boy and
he was required to bend his knees so that his toes brushed the floor. His
bottom jutted at a perfect angle to receive the attentions of my hand. There
was once more task to perform before I could start the deserved punishment. I gripped
the tail of his shirt which at that moment covered his buttocks and roughly
pushed it up his back. I was rewarded with two hairless buttocks, quivering
with anticipation.
I confess until that day I had no experience spanking
boys’ bottoms. Although I had occasionally caned a boy ‘on the bare’ I had
never seen a pair of naked buttocks up close. It surprised me that the palm of
my right hand appeared to be roughly the size of one of Anderson’s cheeks. When
I tested this theory by resting my hand on his bottom, Anderson’s shoulders
shuddered. I am not a man to rest on my laurels. Anderson had submitted himself
across my knee. He was ready to take his punishment, now I must get on with it.
Anderson’s bottom was firm and meaty and there was
very little ‘give’ in it. That is his bum did not wobble each time the palm of
my hand connected with it. I set to with gusto delivering hard spanks at rapid
speed. The sound of hand on bottom was a dull thud-thud-thud. Anderson’s body
tensed but beyond that there was little evidence that he was distressed. I
increased the power and in no time the imprint of my hand was reproduced dozens
of times across his bottom. I made it my business to catch every square inch of
his buttocks. The cheeks were small and my hand large so it did not take much
time to achieve this.
I turned my attention to the back of the thighs. Anderson’s legs kicked. It seemed to me to be a reflex action. I walloped away and very soon I realised that the palm of my hand might indeed be hurting much more than his bottom. Certainly, the boy lay across my lap stoically. He did not appear to be in much discomfort. Of course, an eighteen-year-old probably wouldn’t be much troubled by such a spanking. That is why the cane is a much more effective punishment tool. That said, I am certain that the fact that he had been spanked on his bare bottom while submissively bent across the knee of his headmaster would have a beneficial effect on his future behaviour.
I let Anderson stand and he hovered in some confusion
until I ordered him to the wall and called on Rawlinson to take his place. The
look of horror on his face was a joy to behold and that was before I had laid a
palm across his naked bottom. “Bend over my knee,” I realised I was quite
enjoying myself. He did as he was told. His bottom was a little softer than his
partner in crime and I took delight in the way that my hand sank into the
flesh. I have no idea whether a spanking hurts more if the bottom is hard or
firm. I cannot see how scientists could develop an experiment to find out.
Rawlinson took his spanking like a man (what a strange
figure of speech; what kind of spanking does a man ever receive?) There were
still a few minutes before afternoon school started so I ordered the pair of
them to stand and face the wall. That would give them time to contemplate their
behaviour. It also gave me an opportunity to admire my own handiwork. The
redness on their cheeks was disappearing before my eyes.
I concluded that spanking the two sixth-formers across
my knee was an unusual punishment and in terms of the amount of pain it
inflicted rather ineffectual. But the experience of the punishment (for them
and for me) was awesome and I concluded immediately that I would repeat it on
others. I doubted that Rawlinson nor Anderson would boast of their experience
in my study to their fellow pupils so it would have no deterrent effect on
discipline in the school.
Oh well, I sighed once the pair had left my study, I
would be obliged to spank a few more bare backsides before order was properly
restored.
Picture credits: Sting
Pictures
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