The Headmaster’s Study
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PHILIP’S NEXT ADVENTURE You   may   remember   that   in   my   last   blog   post   that   I   published   a   short   story   from   an   adult   schoolboy   who   has   become   a regular   visitor   to   my   study. You   can   read   the   story   by   clicking   here . The   previous   story   has   received   a   lot   of   favourable feedback   and   because   of   that   I   have   decided   to   publish   the   follow   up.   This   story   is   based   on   a   trip   that   Philip   made   to my study in early 2017. The story is published with the contributors permission. Philip visits the Headmaster again Philip   walked   along   the   street   shocked   at   how   mild   it   was.      For   early   March   it   was   a   clear   sky,   bright   sunshine   and warm.   He   was   delighted   that   of   all   the   days   they   had   planned   to   bunk   off   school,   he   and   Georgia   had   picked   the   best day   of   the   year,   so   far.      He   wasn't   worried   about   getting   caught,   after   all   he   had   snuck   out   of   school   during   the   lunch break,   and   the   afternoon   was   just   art   and   PE,   which   would   be   gymnastics,   which   he   had   no   interest   in.   But   most importantly,   he   wouldn't   be   missed   by   not   being   there.   He   and   Georgia   had   the   whole   afternoon   to   themselves   to   do whatever they wanted to do. He'd even acquired a bottle of vodka and had it in his bag, along with a bottle of coke. In   the   distance   he   could   see   Georgia's   blonde   hair   blowing   in   the   gentle   breeze,   as   she   walked   from   the   direction   of her   school,   the   all   girls   private   school   in   town,   whereas   Philip   went   to   the   all   boys   boarding   school,   however   he   was   a day   pupil,   going   home   on   an   evening.The   pair   had   met   a   few   months   earlier,   but   finding   time   to   be   together   was awkward   for   them   both,   as   her   father   wanted   to   know   her   every   move,   and   because   of   Philip's   recent   downturn   in behaviour   at   school,   his   parents   hardly   let   him   out   on   an   evening.   As   far   as   both   of   them   were   concerned,   they   were the most important things in each other's lives, and school work came a long way down their list of priorities. Philip’s   heart   started   to   race   as   he   saw   Georgia,   and   gazed   in   her   direction,   longing   to   hug   her.   Then   all   of   a   sudden his   heart   skipped   a   beat,   as   he   felt   a   hand   on   his   shoulder.   Turning   around,   he   saw   the   very   person   who   he   didn't want   to   see;   other   than   for   his   parents   or   headmaster   -   the   local   policeman!      "And   what   are   you   doing   out   in   the   town centre,   young   man?"   asked   the   officer.   Philip's   mouth   went   dry   as   he   couldn't   think   of   an   excuse   off   the   top   of   his head.      He   was   clearly   from   the   boys'   school,   as   he   still   had   his   school   uniform   on,   of   grey   flannel   shorts,   grey   socks   to his   knees,   a   grey   shirt,   grey   and   maroon   striped   tie,   and   the   distinctive   maroon   blazer.   He   had   put   his   maroon   cap   in his bag, as he hated wearing it.  Turning   to   his   left,   he   saw   Georgia   was   only   30   yards   away   from   him,   but   she   had   seen   what   was   happening   and   had stopped   walking,   and   was   almost   starting   to   back   away   in   the   direction   she   had   just   come   from.   He   turned   back   to   his right   and   glanced   at   the   policeman,   before   deciding   that   his   only   hope   was   to   run   and   hope   that   he   wouldn't   be recognised   again.   At   that,   he   made   his   escape   and   pushed   past   the   policeman   and   started   to   run   as   fast   as   he possibly   could.   He   was   an   athletic   boy   and   could   run   quite   quickly.   Georgia   saw   Philip   run   and   panicked   and   started running back to her school as fast as her legs could carry her. Philip   got   around   30   yards,   before   he   was   rugby   tackled   to   the   ground,   crashing   down   hard   and   his   bag   flew   off   and landed   on   the   pavement   several   feet   ahead   of   him.   Instinctively   he   started   to   struggle   to   get   the   policeman   off   him, kicking   out   a   few   times,   before   he   found   himself   getting   pulled   to   his   feet   by   the   hair   beside   his   ear.   He   was   lifted   right on   to   his   tip   toes,   where   he   found   he   was   unable   to   do   anything   but   follow   where   he   was   pulled.      Sheer   frustration   got the   better   of   him   as   he   started   shouting   and   swearing,   he   had   wanted   this   afternoon   with   Georgia   so   much,   and   now   it was   destroyed.   Their   relationship   was   probably   going   to   be   over   now   too,   because   try   as   they   might,   they   just   couldn't spend any time together, and she was never going to hang around long for him, as she was just perfect in his eyes. Within   minutes,   Philip   found   himself   getting   bundled   into   the   back   of   a   police   car,   with   the   officer   who   had   caught   him keeping   his   school   bag.   Glumly,   he   sat   in   the   back   as   the   car   pulled   up   first   of   all   at   the   school   gates,   and   then   pulled onto   the   driveway   and   parked   right   outside   the   main   entrance.   The   rear   door   opened   and   Philip   was   pulled   out   of   the car   roughly,   and   led   by   the   arm   into   the   school.   Mr   Prendergast,   the   headmaster,   had   seen   the   car   pull   up   to   the entrance,   and   ran   down   the   stairs   as   fast   as   he   could   to   meet   them,   all   the   while   wondering   what   had   happened.      As he   got   to   the   bottom   of   the   stairs,   he   saw   Philip   and   let   out   a   huge   sigh   and   rolled   his   eyes.   If   it   was   going   to   be   any   of the   pupils   at   his   school,   it   just   had   to   be   this   boy!   One   officer   continued   to   hold   onto   Philip   as   the   other,   the   one   who had   caught   him   went   into   Mr   Prendergast's   study   for   what   seemed   to   be   an   eternity.   Eventually   they   emerged,   with the   headmasters   face   as   red   as   Philip   had   ever   seen   it.   If   it   was   possible   for   steam   to   come   out   of   someone's   ears, then his head would have resembled a boiling kettle! "Get   in   here   now   boy!"   Mr   Prendergast   shouted,   making   Philip   jump   and   swallow   hard.   He   was   in   his   own   world   of self   pity   to   even   notice   that   the   two   police   men   were   looking   back   at   him,   knowing   he   would   be   sorry   for   his   actions soon   enough.   Philip   slowly   walked   into   the   headmaster's   expansive   office,   a   room   he   knew   only   too   well   these   days.     The   headmaster   started   with   his   usual   rhetorical   question   "Do   you   why   you   are   before   me   today,   boy?"   Philip   cleared his   throat,   he   knew   he   was   caught   red   handed,   so   decided   that   discretion   was   called   for,   and   replied   "Unfortunately, yes   I   do   sir."   The   lecture   then   began   about   boys   playing   truant   when   they   should   be   studying,   after   all   this   was   a vastly   important   year   in   his   education,   his   general   deterioration   in   his   behaviour   over   the   last   term   of   two,   his   distinct lack   of   respect   for   his   teachers,   not   to   mention   the   fact   that   he   had   let   the   school   and   he   headmaster   himself   down   by his   behaviour   today.   Not   only   had   the   police   had   to   attend   the   school,   but   they   had   been   subjected   to   all   manner   of disgusting   language,   not   befitting   a   pupil   of   this   establishment.      And   it   hadn't   just   been   the   police,   but   the   public   as well. Mr Prendergast was furious, and about to seriously blow his top. Philip   stood,   fidgeting   in   front   of   the   desk,   as   he   new   only   too   well   that   he   was   in   serious   trouble,   and   he   couldn't   even start   to   talk   his   way   out   of   this   one.   He   had   been   caught   fair   and   square.   His   only   relief   was   that   Georgia   had   got away   and   wasn't   in   any   trouble,   until   the   last   time.   Although   the   lecture   had   touched   on   fraternising   with   girls, thankfully   no   one   had   put   the   pieces   together   and   he   hoped   that   Georgia   might   be   safe,   and   wouldn't   be   in   the   same position   as   he   was   at   this   very   moment.   Philip   sort   of   wanted   the   lecture   to   go   on   forever,   but   at   the   same   time   he wanted   this   moment   over   and   done   with.   He   soon   got   his   wish,   as   the   headmaster   told   him   to   hang   his   cap   and   blazer on the back of the door. This was the cue for him to meet his destiny. When   he   turned   around,   he   saw   Mr   Prendergast   had   pulled   a   chair   into   the   centre   of   the   room   and   was   sat   down   on it.   Without   a   word   needing   to   be   said,   the   headmaster   tapped   his   knee   with   his   left   hand,   and   Philip   reached   forward and   bend   across   his   lap.   Shuffling   slightly   to   make   himself   comfortable,   the   lecture   continued   about   his   behaviour being   akin   to   a   little   boy,   and   as   such   he   would   be   punished   like   one.   Philip   settled   in   for   the   long   haul,   as   he   knew very   well   that   the   headmaster   would   smack   his   bottom   for   a   long   time.   Initially   over   his   shorts,   the   repeated   smacks may   have   sounded   loud,   but   they   had   very   little   impact   on   him;   he   could   undoubtedly   feel   them,   but   his   bottom   was used   to   far   worse   than   this,   and   it   was   easily   bearable   as   he   focused   on   the   floor   and   even   started   to   read   the   spines of the books in the bookcase right in front of his face. After   around   two   minutes   or   so,   Philip   was   told   to   stand   up,   so   pushed   himself   back   up   to   his   feet. As   he   stood   to   the headmaster's   right,   he   took   a   deep   breath   as   his   jumper   was   pushed   up,   and   the   catches   of   his   shorts   were unfastened,   with   them   falling   to   the   ground.   As   quickly   as   he   could,   he   bend   himself   back   over   the   headmaster's knees   and   prepared   for   the   next   few   moments.   He   knew   this   wouldn't   be   anywhere   near   the   end   of   the   matter,   but   he didn't   need   reminding   of   that   fact   as   Mr   Prendergast   starting   smacking   his   bottom   once   again,   this   time   over   his   tight white   y-fronts.   The   headmaster   continued   lecturing   the   stricken   boy,   not   that   Philip   was   taking   any   notice,   as   the continued   smacks   started   to   sting   his   bottom.   Philip   started   to   follow   the   lines   in   the   wooden   flooring,   grunting answers   in   hopefully   the   right   places,   as   he   tried   to   take   his   mind   of   the   building   sting   on   his   backside.   The   smacks that   landed   lower   on   his   bottom,   almost   on   the   back   of   his   legs   really   made   him   take   a   sharp   intake   of   breath,   as   he tried   to   appear   to   be   as   nonchalant   as   possible,   not   letting   the   headmaster   see   that   he   was   starting   to   have   any   effect on him. Philip   then   felt   his   underpants   being   pulled   down   off   his   bottom.   Once   this   was   complete,   the   smacks   rained   down   in earnest,   with   each   one   seemingly   echoing   around   the   wood   clad   room.   Each   one   stinging   slightly   more   than   the   last one.   The   ones   that   landed   on   his   left   cheek   seemed   to   sting   more   than   the   ones   on   his   right   cheek,   and   given   that   the headmaster   seemed   to   alternating   cheeks,   Philip   had   to   grit   his   teeth   every   other   smack,   knowing   that   it   was   going   to actually hurt him. But he had to make out he wasn't bothered by anything... Eventually   after   what   seemed   to   be   an   eternity,   Philip   was   allowed   to   stand   up   and   was   sent   to   face   the   wall,   still   with his   shorts   and   underpants   around   his   ankles.   As   he   was   stood   with   his   hands   on   his   head,   he   heard   the   headmaster telling   him   to   turn   to   his   left   and   bend   over   the   chair,   placing   his   hands   either   side   of   the   seat.   Philip   took   a   deep breath   and   spun   around   and   bent   over.   He   knew   this   was   still   the   very   beginning   for   him,   and   he   was   almost   relieved to   hear   that   he   was   getting   a   dozen   with   the   slipper,   unfortunately   this   was   just   for   his   repeated   misbehaviour   in school   over   the   past   few   months,   not   for   anything   that   had   happened   that   day.   He   braced   himself   as   twelve resounding   strokes   of   the   slipper   landed   on   his   bare   bottom,   with   the   last   two   really   leaving   their   mark   on   him,   as   they landed   low   down   and   really   stung   him.   The   last   one   forced   him   to   raise   his   head   and   stare   at   the   wall   for   a   second before regaining his composure. Mr   Prendergast   put   his   black   slipper   down   on   the   desk,   before   announcing   that   for   playing   truant   again,   he   was   to receive   a   double   dose   of   the   Irish   strap. Again,   Philip   breathed   a   slight   sigh   of   relief,   as   although   the   strap   was   bad,   it wasn't   in   the   same   league   as   other   implements   the   headmaster   had   used   on   him   in   the   past.   Philip   braced   himself   as the   strap   lashed   down   a   dozen   times   across   his   ever   increasingly   sore   behind.   This   time   he   had   to   count   the   strokes, and   by   the   time   he   reached   "Twelve,   sir"   he   could   feel   his   voice   was   starting   to   go   a   bit   crackly.     As   he   moved   his   hips from   side   to   side   to   try   and   ease   the   sting,   his   heart   sank   as   he   heard   he   was   getting   another   twelve   strokes,   so   to remain   in   that   position.   This   time   it   was   for   the   police   attending   the   school,   and   not   for   the   first   time   because   of   him.     The   poor   bending   teenager   breathed   in   hard   and   tried   to   get   as   much   composure   as   possible,   knowing   that   the   next minute   or   so   would   be   very   painful.   Staying   in   position,   he   relaxed   as   best   he   could,   before   the   strap   started connecting very hard with his backside. Each   and   every   stroke   had   poor   Philip   take   a   deep   intake   of   breath,   followed   by   the   count   of   the   stroke,   and   closing his   eyes   before   each   stroke   landed,   in   anticipation   of   the   pain   as   it   landed.   Each   stroke   seemed   to   get   harder   and harder,   and   louder   and   louder,   up   to   the   final   stroke   which   almost   knocked   him   over   the   top   of   the   chair!   Never   had   he been   so   relieved   to   be   allowed   to   stand   up   and   face   the   wall,   despite   his   shorts   and   underpants   around   his   ankles, stood with his hands by his sides.  As   Philip   looked   at   the   small   groupings   of   particles   of   dust   in   the   intricate   wood   panelling,   he   heard   Mr   Prendergast starting   to   lecture   him   about   hanging   around   with   girls,   and   how   boys   of   his   age   shouldn't   be   with   a   girl   unless   they had   a   chaperone.   Philip   just   rolled   his   eyes   at   that,   safe   in   the   knowledge   that   the   headmaster   couldn't   see   him   do   it.     This   was   just   a   pedantic   rule   made   by   adults   to   spoil   teenagers   fun,   in   his   opinion.   He   was   told   to   completely   remove his   shorts   and   underpants,   then   kneel   on   a   foot   stool,   and   bend   forward   so   his   head   was   on   the   seat   of   the   leather chair.   Slowly   Philip   got   himself   into   position,   and   felt   very   exposed   as   his   bottom   jutted   backwards   at   an   awkward angle.   He   heard   that   he   was   going   to   receive   the   plimsoll,   and   glanced   to   his   left   and   saw   a   large   white   plimsoll   in   the headmaster's hand. He had never received this from him, but it couldn't be much worse than the slipper. It   was   announced   that   Philip   would   receive   24   strokes   of   the   plimsoll,   in   batches   of   a   dozen.   He   wasn't   sure   how   well and   quietly   he'd   be   able   to   take   them,   as   his   bottom   was   extremely   sore   from   the   strapping   he   had   just   received,   but braced   himself   as   best   he   could,   to   take   them   in   absolute   silence,   beside   the   count.   He   felt   the   plimsoll   rest   on   his bottom,   then   felt   it   land   with   a   red   hot,   searing   pain.   No   sooner   as   he   had   blurted   out   "One,   sir",   then   the   second stroke   landed.   By   the   end   of   the   first   set   of   twelve   strokes,   Philip   was   more   than   happy   to   have   a   second   to   compose himself   again,   as   he   felt   sweat   running   down   his   chest   and   his   forehead.   He   reflected   for   a   second   about   the   situation he   found   himself   in,   agreeing   that   he   was   in   this   position   of   his   own   making.   The   second   set   of   a   dozen   strokes   stung him far more than the first batch, leaving him gasping for air by the end, almost whispering the count by the end. After   remaining   kneeling   on   the   foot   stool   for   a   few   moments,   Philip   was   allowed   to   stand   up   and   return   to   face   the wall,   and   put   his   underpants   and   shorts   back   on,   slowly   easing   them   over   his   sore   bottom.   He   was   desperate   to   see how   red   it   must   be,   but   couldn't   see   without   making   it   obvious,   but   as   he   pulled   his   shorts   back   on,   he   could   feel   the heat from his bum and could feel that the lower parts of his cheeks felt slightly swollen. Once   he   was   decent   again,   Philip   was   ordered   to   turn   and   stand   in   front   of   the   desk.   He   looked   down,   and   his   eyes opened   wide   in   panic.   On   the   table   was   a   small   bottle   of   vodka,   the   same   vodka   that   he   had   in   his   bag   for   him   and Georgia.   The   headmaster   then   started   lecturing   about   the   evils   of   alcohol   and   how   appalling   it   was   that   he   had alcohol   in   school,   let   alone   be   drunk.   Philip   just   rolled   his   eyes   at   the   lecture   as   he   had   drunk   alcohol   before   and   it didn't   bother   him,   in   fact   he   quite   enjoyed   being   able   to   relax   and   not   have   a   care   in   the   world,   but   this   seemed   to   be a   huge   deal   for   Mr   Prendergast   who   told   him   that   he   was   going   to   cane   him   so   severely   he   wouldn't   want   to   touch   a drop   of   alcohol   again,   until   he   was   old   enough   to   drink.   He   was   told   to   bend   over   the   desk,   and   get   a   good   grip   of   the opposite side of the desk. Philip,   for   once,   did   as   he   was   told,   and   stretched   across   the   desk,   his   legs   straight,   his   fingers   wrapped   about   the   lip of   the   desk.   He   stared   out   of   the   window   as   he   discovered   he   would   receive   6   strokes   in   this   state   of   dress,   then   six with   his   shorts   down,   and   finally   six   more   strokes   on   his   bare   bottom. Another   sharp   intake   of   breath   followed   from   the bending   boy,   and   he   then   felt   the   cane   tapping   quite   hard   across   his   by   now   very   tender   bottom.   The   first   five   strokes were   all   very   normal   for   a   caning,   with   each   making   Philip   blink   with   the   sharp,   burning   pain,   with   the   intense anticipating   and   trepidation   of   the   next   stroke   playing   with   his   mind.   Most   of   the   strokes   had   been   clustered   around the   centre   of   his   bottom,   and   the   final   one   landed   across   a   previous   stroke,   causing   him   considerable   pain,   leading   to a gasp and taking a second or two before counting the stroke. He   was   told   to   stand   up,   drop   his   shorts   and   resume   the   position   across   the   desk,   which   he   did.   By   now,   Philip's bottom   was   feeling   very   tender   and   exposed,   and   even   the   slightest   tap   of   the   cane   made   him   jump.   He   gritted   his teeth,   and   endured   the   next   six   strokes,   each   one   doubly   as   painful   as   the   previous   six   strokes,   to   the   point   that   he didn't   think   his   bottom   could   get   any   more   painful.   He   was   sure   it   must   have   looked   like   he   had   sat   on   a   red   hot   grill, as   he   stood   up   and   lowered   his   underpants,   before   bending   back   over   again.   Once   more,   the   anticipation   was   almost unbearable   for   him   as   the   cane   tapped   his   bottom   several   times,   very   hard.   Then   it   landed   with   an   almighty   swish, causing him to jump, bite back a yelp and count the stroke out loud.  This   was   repeated   for   all   six   of   the   strokes,   each   one   hurting   him   to   the   very   limits   of   what   he   thought   was   possible.     From   some   very   painful   experiences,   he   knew   that   he'd   feel   those   strokes   for   a   few   days.   His   relief   was   palpable   as the   sixth   stroke   landed,   as   he   caught   his   breath   and   whispered   "Six,   sir"   as   he   rocked   forwards   and   then   backwards over the desk, trying desperately to ease the burning in his hindquarters. Once   again,   he   was   told   to   go   and   face   the   wall,   still   with   his   clothing   around   his   ankles.   Philip   was   desperate   to   rub his   bottom,   but   didn't   dare   for   fear   of   receiving   any   extra   punishment.   He   was   sure   his   punishment   had   to   be   almost   at an   end,   partly   because   his   bottom   didn't   seem   capable   of   taking   any   more   beating.   He   was   then   given   a   further lecture   about   disrespecting   the   local   constabulary   and   members   of   the   public   who   had   witnessed   his   disgusting behaviour,   also   how   he   had   let   down   the   school   and   not   least   the   headmaster   himself.   Mr   Prendergast   told   him   how disappointed   he   was,   but   that   he   had   also   promised   the   police   man   how   severely   he   would   punish   him,   so   he intended   to   do   just   that,   and   ordered   Mick   to   once   again   remove   the   lower   part   of   his   uniform   and   bend   over   the   back of   the   sofa,   to   receive   TWENTY   FOUR   strokes   of   the   tawse,   across   his   bare   bottom.   Philip   glumly   walked   across   the room and bent over the back of the sofa. Stroke   after   stroke   after   stroke   of   the   strap   landed,   each   one   bringing   yet   more   stinging   and   burning   to   his   bottom.     Each   stroke   seemed   to   knock   him   forwards   over   the   back   of   the   sofa,   and   his   hands   slipped   on   the   leather   seats,   as his   palms   were   soaked   with   sweat.   By   the   end   of   this   ordeal,   Philip   was   sure   that   was   it,   as   his   head   was   almost   on the   seat,   as   he   had   been   gradually   been   knocked   further   and   further   over   the   back   of   the   sofa,   with   the   power   of   the strokes, and possibly with trying to get away from that strap descending towards his backside at 100mph! He   breathed   heavily,   trying   to   get   his   breath   back,   as   his   heart   raced   trying   to   process   the   intense   pain   he   was   in.   His heart   then   sank   yet   further   as   he   was   told   he   would   receive   six   of   the   very   best   with   the   cane   to   really   make   him regret   letting   the   good   name   of   the   school   down.   No   amount   of   bracing   himself   helped   as   the   cane   repeated   bit   into his   buttocks,   each   causing   him   to   yelp   before   counting   the   stroke   out   loud.   No   matter   how   much   he   wanted   to   keep his   muscles   relaxed,   he   couldn't   help   but   try   to   tense,   in   a   vein   attempt   to   prevent   some   of   the   incredible   pain.   After the   sixth   stroke,   Philip   was   left   rocking   over   the   back   of   the   sofa,   trying   to   come   to   terms   with   what   had   just   happened to him. Finally   he   was   allowed   up   and   allowed   to   get   dressed.   He   was   hugely   relieved   to   be   told   to   get   his   blazer   and   cap from   the   door,   as   this   meant   that   it   was   all   over. A   very   chastened   boy   stood   before   the   headmaster   who   told   him   that he   would   be   writing   a   letter   home   to   his   parents.   Philip   didn't   have   the   energy   to   protest   or   beg   for   him   not   to   do   that.     Besides,   previously   when   he   had   done   that,   he   had   received   extra   punishment   from   the   headmaster,   and   he   was fairly   sure   he   couldn't   take   another   cane   stroke   just   yet.   On   being   dismissed,   Philip   slowly   turned   and   shuffled   out   of the door to go home. Philip   finally   got   home   and   handed   the   letter   to   his   father,   who   wasn't   entirely   happy   with   his   sons   behaviour   of   late   to begin   with,   but   that   afternoon's   exploits   were   far   beyond   acceptable.   He   started   to   rage   as   he   read   what   Philip   had done,   and   decided   that   this   meant   a   serious   punishment   was   necessary.   He   had   known   his   son   had   been   testing   the boundaries   of   late,   and   on   a   trip   to   America,   he   had   bought   a   couple   of   implements   he   had   seen   for   sale,   and   after seeing   how   well   behaved   teenagers   of   a   similar   age   were   there,   compared   to   his   own   son,   he   had   bought   them.   If   a wooden   paddle   and   a   'Jonathan'   strap,   a   wide   strap,   as   wide   as   his   belt,   but   more   than   twice   as   thick,   with   holes   in didn't   improve   his   son's   behaviour,   then   nothing   would.   He   had   hoped   he   would   never   have   to   use   them,   but   today was the day that he would find out how effective they were. He   sat   on   the   sofa   and   told   Philip   to   bring   him   the   paddle   from   the   sideboard,   then   drop   his   shorts   and   bend   over   his lap.   Philip   was   exhausted   from   earlier   in   the   day   and   didn't   have   the   energy   left   to   fight   or   protest,   so   did   as   he   was told,   although   not   without   regret.   He   felt   his   underpants   being   pulled   down,   and   then   received   a   considerable   amount of   smacks   by   hand.   These   smacks   just   reignited   the   fire   from   earlier,   but   didn't   seem   to   cause   him   any   further   pain.     He   then   heard   that   he   was   going   to   get   the   paddle.   He   braced   himself,   expecting   it   to   feel   like   a   slipper,   but   no   sooner had   it   swotted   hard   across   his   bare   bottom,   he   realised   he   hadn't   felt   pain   like   it   before   in   his   life;   it   hurt   more   than stung,   and   was   causing   him   to   keep   yelps   under   control.   In   his   head   he   counted   the   strokes,   six,   twelve,   eighteen, twenty four. By the end he was utterly exhausted and didn't dare touch his bottom, as even the air touching it hurt. He   was   then   told   to   bend   over   the   chair,   in   the   corner   of   the   room,   as   his   dad   picked   up   the   strap.   Philip   took   a   look   at it,   and   from   the   size,   it   didn't   look   too   much   worse   than   the   Irish   strap   so   favoured   by   his   headmaster,   and   that   was bearable.   Again,   as   the   first   stroke   landed,   he   realised   it   was   much   worse   than   any   strap   he   had   ever   felt.   If   he thought   his   dad's   belt   was   bad,   this   was   at   least   three   times   worse!   Each   stroke,   of   the   twenty   four   he   received, knocked   him   over   the   back   of   the   chair,   and   lifted   him   onto   his   tip   toes,   as   he   struggled   to   deal   with   the   pain.   Philip could   hardly   see   for   the   sweat   running   off   his   forehead   into   his   eyes,   and   he   was   close   to   tears.   Finally,   when   it   was all   over,   Philip   finally   thought   it   was   all   over,   as   he   was   told   to   face   the   wall   and   put   his   hands   on   his   head.     Unfortunately,   his   dad   was   far   from   finished,   and   was   determined   to   teach   the   boy   a   lesson   he   wouldn't   forget   in   a hurry, and told him to remove his lower clothing and go and kneel on the sofa, and bend over the arm. Philip   slowly   did   as   he   was   told,   and   assumed   the   position,   feeling   terribly   exposed   again.   He   then   discovered   that   he was   to   receive   six   strokes   of   the   paddle,   six   with   the   strap   and   then   six   with   his   father's   cane.   He   took   a   huge   breath and   started   sweating   more   at   the   worry   of   how   he   could   possibly   take   any   more,   let   alone   of   what   he   had   just   had, and   another   caning.   He   placed   his   hands   on   the   floor,   and   tried   to   get   as   comfortable   as   possible,   before   six   of   the hardest   strokes   of   the   paddle   his   father   could   manage   were   administered   to   his   bending   bottom.   Each   swot   knocked him   forwards,   made   him   yelp   and   gasp   for   air.   His   heart   was   racing   as   the   pain   was   beyond   belief,   and   he   still   had more strap and cane to go. He   braced   himself   for   the   strap,   and   after   the   first   couple   of   strokes,   he   couldn't   decide   which   was   worse;   the   strap   or the   paddle.   Both   were   intense   in   their   own   way.   After   all   six   strokes   were   administered,   Philip   hung   his   head,   almost touching   the   floor,   as   he   braced   himself   mentally   for   the   cane.   His   dad   knew   how   to   swing   a   cane,   and   his   six   strokes were   as   bad   as   any   he   had   ever   received,   burning   deep   into   his   already   agonised   bottom.   Philip   breathed   a   sigh   of relief   when   it   was   all   over,   only   to   find   out   his   dad   intended   on   repeating   the   same   routine.   Panic   spread   rapidly through   him,   as   he   was   fearful   of   any   more   paddle   and   strap,   even   the   cane   was   preferable   to   those   two   implements!     He   took   a   deep   breath   and   focused   on   a   point   on   the   wall,   before   the   paddle   connected   with   his   bottom   with   such force,   as   to   nearly   knock   him   off   balance.   The   same   was   repeated   with   the   strap,   six   agonising   strokes   causing further   pain.   This   time   they   had   been   brought   down   hard   across   fresh   cane   strokes.   Philip   braced   himself   for   another six   strokes   of   the   cane,   thinking   it   couldn't   be   any   worse.   His   bottom   was   already   at   the   point   of   falling   off,   if   it   still existed,   and   any   more   strokes   of   anything   couldn't   make   it   any   worse.   Except   the   cane   did   its   normal   job   as   causing six   instalments   of   sheer   agony,   unbeknown   to   man!   Poor   Philip   fought   back   the   tears   as   he   begged   his   dad   that   he had   learned   his   lesson,   and   not   to   give   him   any   more   punishment.   When   he   was   finally   allowed   to   get   up   and   get dressed, he was as relieved as he was sore. Another big thank you to ‘Philip’ for allowing me to publish such a vivid recollection of another of his visit to my study. Until the next time. Mr Prendergast.
THE BLOG FROM THE HEADMASTER’S STUDY