Housemasters’ Difference of Opinion

 

Original Fiction – for adult eyes only

Two housemasters are having a conversation …

 

Six strokes across the bared buttocks, that should do the trick.

That’s your answer for everything.

That’s because it works. And I know the boys would agree with me.

Does it? Does it really?

Yes, it does. And it has done for years. For generations actually.

Except when it doesn’t

What do you mean by that?

When it doesn’t. What’s the purpose of it?

The purpose is to stop a boy repeating an offence. And to deter others from making the same mistake.

And that works?

Yes …. Well mostly.

Yes, mostly. It works except when it doesn’t.

How many boys do you know who come back for a second dose?

None, because I don’t beat my boys.

Look Wilkins, I’ve been a housemaster for longer than I care to remember, do you think I don’t know what I’m talking about?

And I don’t?

Look, I don’t mean to be rude but you’ve only just been appointed to your house, you should give it some time. I’m sure you’ll see I’m right.

You seem so very sure.

Because I am; you’ll see.

What about Hamilton?

What about him?

He’s a senior boy, eighteen years old. You gave him, as you say, six strokes across the bared buttocks this afternoon.

Indeed, I did.

Why?

Why?

Yes, why?

Because he broke the rules. He left school premises and went to the town. That’s two rules broken in fact. He did it deliberately. He knew the rules. He knew the punishment. He expected it.

Yes, I bet he did. Expect it.

What do you mean.

How many times have you caned him?

Since when?

Since ever. It seems to me that he is always in trouble. Always being told to present his backside – bared or otherwise – for caning.

Yes, you admit it, I’m not the only one who has had to cane him. The headmaster has dealt with him on numerous occasions.

By caning him. On the bare.

I do not know if the headmaster canes on the bare. He is quite entitled to by the rules the governors have set, and so am I.

Don’t you think it’s a little suspicious?

Suspicious?

That Hamilton repeatedly breaks the rules and is caned.

My good fellow I don’t see what you’re getting at.

I rather think you do. Admit it.

Now, Wilkins, I think you might be reading too much into all this.

Am I? I don’t think so. It is perfectly clear that caning Hamilton doesn’t improve his behaviour. So why keep doing it?

That my dear fellow, is not a conundrum. Any schoolmaster knows that there is a hierarchy of punishment. You begin with smaller, less severe punishments, you gate a boy or give him Virgil to translate. If the boy recommits the offence or indulges in a bigger offence so the punishment gets harsher. Until, the ultimate deterrent is used; a caning, trousers and underpants down.

Except in Hamilton’s case the bare bottomed caning hasn’t worked.

Yes, you have put your finger on a problem we all face. Once the ultimate punishment has been awarded if he recommits you can hardly give a lesser punishment. I couldn’t haver gated Hamilton and confined him to school for two weekends because that is a lesser punishment.

Madness, it’s madness.

Once he has been caned on the bare once, future punishments must be as harsh or harsher. That is a fact of life.

So, what happens? You flog him with birch rods, the cat o’nine tails?

Now you’re being facetious. You know the rules do not allow us to go beyond six on the bare.

What if he enjoys it?

What? Who?

What if Hamilton enjoys being caned?

Who on earth enjoys being caned. Don’t talk tommyrot.

What, you’ve never come across a boy who wants to be caned?

Well, yes, it is true that some desire to be caned to show to the other chaps that they can take it without blubbing and so forth. It’s an honour thing.

I’m not talking about that. I do not doubt what you say. I mean the boy who gets some kind of excitement from being caned.

Excitement?

Yes, the thrill of submitting himself to an older man, a figure of authority. Going through a ritual. The summons to the study. The cross examination, the trial if you will. The admission of guilt, or the finding of guilt. The heart racing as the master determines that punishment must be forthcoming. A beating. The master selects his cane. Do you not recognize the scenario?

Well, yes, but even so.

Then there is the ceremonial movement of the furniture. ‘Place that chair in the middle of the room, Hamilton.’ The master flexes and swishes the cane provocatively. Hamilton’s mouth is dry and his palms run with sweat. ‘Take down your trousers and underpants.’ Now, Hamilton’s hands shake; shake but not with fear, they tremble with excitement. What he has been dreaming of for days is about to transpire. A bare bottomed thrashing with a cane administered by an older man, the figure of authority.

Have you taken leave of your senses, man?

Slowly Hamilton unbuckles his belt and loosens his trousers. They slip down his legs and puddle onto his shoes. Now, it’s the turn of the underpants. In the past few moments they have tightened considerably. Carefully he hitches his fingers into the elasticated waistband and turning his back to you slowly, so that you cannot see the truth, he slips the pants down as far as his knees. He waits with feelings of intense anticipation. ‘Please get on with it,’ he urges silently. ‘Please, the final order.’ At last it comes. A curt command ‘Bend over the chair.’

You appear to be sweating somewhat yourself Wilkins.

Hamilton veritably leaps over the back of the chair. He cannot wait to display his bared bottom to you. He is submissive. He wants to be submissive. You are the master and he is the slave. ‘Beat me, beat me,’ he wants to tell you. ‘I am a naughty boy and I need to be punished. Do it. Do it severely. I am bad. I deserve this. Please sir, correct me.’

Pah! I really don’t have to put up with this.

Then the preparations. The tapping of the cane across the buttocks. The sawing as you find your aim. The excitement of anticipation. Hamilton’s head is exploding with want. The cane lifts away from the bare cheeks. It wobbles in the air for a moment before you bring it swishing down across his bottom. A red line throbs, the pain is intense. Hamilton gasps, but with pain or joy? What do you think Harris?

Balderdash! What has gotten into you.

Six swipes. Six of the very best. Hamilton’s on fire. The agony. The humiliation. He has submitted.

You are quite mad, quite mad.

And I haven’t yet spoken of the delight the schoolmaster might feel when presented with an eighteen-year-old’s bared buttocks.

I rather think Wilkins you should take a cold shower. Good day to you. I have a class to teach.

Picture credit: CP Services, London

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