The Headmaster’s Study
DECEMBER 2017 Yet   another   year   has   come   to   an   end   at   the   ‘Headmaster’s   Study’.   Thank   you   to   all   who   have   visted   during   2017. Have a great Christmas and New Year and see you all in 2018. JANUARY 2018 It has been some while since my last full update. Hopefully, this one will make up for it. The   Headmaster’s   Study   has   now   been   open   for   10   years!   Where   has   the   time   gone?   The   study   will   continue   to welcome   adult   pupils,   old   and   new,   throughout   the   coming   year.   If   you   are   thinking   of   making   your   first   visit   or   making a   return   visit   then   there   has   never   been   a   better   time   to   get   in   touch.   If   you   are   considering   visiting   someone   like   me for   the   first   time   then   please   remember   that   you   will   be   treated   with   understanding,   respect   and   confidentiality throughout   your   time   with   me.   Please   don’t   hesitate   to   get   intouch   via   my   email   or   on   the   number   you   will   find throughout my website. Please enjoy this full update and blog post. During   the   second   part   of   the   2017   I   was   visited   by   a   new   (and   novice)   adult   schoolboy.   Our   session   together   was excellent and afterward he sent me a review of his experiences. With his permission I reproduce it below. Steven gets summoned to the Headmaster I   have   been   thinking   about   this   scene   for   quite   some   time.   After   some   searching,   I   came   across,   not   a   female,   but   a male,   taking   the   role   as   a   boarding   school   headmaster,   and   no   mention   of   BDSM   /   rubber      etc.,   as   he   stipulates   that he doesn’t entertain any other kind of role-play except Headmaster / Uncle / Akela. I   studied   his   website   with   great   detail   and   his   website   ticked   the   boxes   for   me,   as   my   reasons   why   I   started   to   look   in to   this   scenario,   was   because   of   all   the   things   I   had   done   and   not   been   caught,   or   not   done   and   got   away   with   when   I was   between   twelve   and   fifteen,   some   of   which   were   pretty   serious,   and   caused   others   including   my   whole   school year to be punished, had built up over time, and I needed to release them, and talking wouldn’t do it. I   finally   got   the   courage   to   give   the   Headmaster   a   call.      We   spoke   for   about   twenty   minutes   once   he   could   establish   I was serious, and not just another time waster, and before hanging up, I had made my first ever appointment. He   asked   me   to   supply   him   with   a   brief   scenario,   of   how   the   session   was   to   be   played   out,   any   implements   that   I   did not   want   used,   and   also   all   my   measurements,   as   I   didn’t   have   any   school   uniform,   I   would   be   loaned   a   full   uniform including   the   short   trousers,   tie,   socks,   blazer,   &   cap.      The   only   items   I   was   required   to   take,   were   underwear,   and shoes, and writing equipment. I   sent   him   all   the   details   of   the   scenario,   and   my   measurements,   and   I   quickly   got   a   response   back   that   he   was   also happy with the details I provided. A   couple   of   days   before   my   appointment,   as   requested,   I   telephoned   him   again,   just   to   confirm   that   I   was   still attending,   and   I   was   given   details   of   where   I   was   to   meet   him,   as   he   meets   all   new   clients   in   a   public   place,   before going on to his own house. On   the   day   of   my   first   ever   session,   as   we   discussed   earlier,   I   parked   up   in   the   public   car   park,   and   telephoned   him   to say I was there, and within a couple of minutes he joined me, and I followed him back to his house. Once   inside   his   large   Edwardian   house,   we   sat   downstairs   for   about   forty   minutes   over   coffee,   and   biscuits,   while   we got   to   know   each   other,   how   the   session   would   be   played   out,   and   I   had   printed   off   a   list   of   offences   that   I   had   actually done and got away with when I was at school. After   the   chat,   he   showed   me   upstairs   to   the   top   floor,   all   of   which   are   decorated   as   a   boarding   school   around   the 1950’s/60’s,    consisting    of    a    dormitory,    classroom,    and    Headmasters    study.        Once    in    the    dorm    and    with    the measurements   he   had   previously   taken   via   email,   was   a   full   prep   school   uniform   laid   out   for   me   to   change   into.      He left   me   to   change,   and   shower   if   I   wished,   and   told   me,   once   ready,   come   out,   and   knock   on   the   Headmasters   study door and await his instructions. Once   I   had   changed   into   the   uniform,   I   had   a   look   in   the   mirror   to   make   sure   I   was   as   smart   as   I   could   be   (including wearing   grey   short   trousers   for   the   very   first   time   ever!)   I   left   and   nervously   knocked   on   the   door.      I   was   told   to   wait, and   next   I   heard   him   swishing   a   cane,   which   for   someone   who   had   never   even   been   within   ten   feet   of   a   cane   before, made me jump a little. I   was   instructed   to   enter,   and   stand   to   attention   in   front   of   his   desk.      I   was   actually   starting   to   feel   just   like   I   had   been   a naughty schoolboy, and fearing what my new Headmaster would do next. All   the   time   using   my   list,   he   worked   on   a   few   of   my   minor   reasons,   and   my   first   introduction   into   CP   was   to   be   treated like a naughty little boy, and go over his knee, for a hand spanking, firstly over shorts, then underwear, then bare. During   the   first   thirty   minutes   or   so,   I   received   OTK   smacks,   bent   over   a   chair   for   a   dose   of   the   strap,   and   slipper,   over underwear,   and   bare,   before   more   corner   time,   which   happened   quite   often.      On   one   occasion   I   leant   on   the   wall,   and without warning, he came over and I got several stinging slaps to the backs of my legs. The   last   occasion   in   this   part   of   the   session   while   I   was   in   my   now   usual   corner,   I   was   told   to   open   the   cupboard   door, and   retrieve   its   contents.      This   was   my   first   ever   feel   of   a   cane   of   any   description,   which   was   a   junior   cane,   then   it   was back   bent   over   the   desk   and   shorts   back   in   their   becoming   familiar   place,   by   my   feet,   for   my   first   caning,   thankfully not bare (this time). Once   I   had   been   given   six   with   the   cane,   I   was   told   to   leave   his   office,   and   get   to   class,   which   was   another   room   over the landing area. I   went   in   to   the   classroom,   and   sat   at   one   of   the   traditional   style   desks   with   attached   wooden   chair.      Looking   around the   room   I   noticed   many   items   that   looked   familiar   from   my   schooldays,   including   the   chalk   board,   world   atlas   on   the wall, and some I wasn’t used to, like a strap and slipper on display on the teachers desk. By   now,   I   had   relaxed   a   bit   more,   and   was   also   pushing   the   boundaries   a   little,   and   not   showing   respect   for   adults, just   like   I   would   have   done,   and   because   of   this,   I   spent   more   time   bent   over   my   desk   than   sat   behind   it,   which usually ended up with more punishment, either with the slipper, or the strap.  Some were over underwear, some not. The   last   part   of   the   session   was   when   the   lesson   was   over,   and   I   was   to   be   back   outside   the   Headmasters   study   with my nose pinned to the wall, and hands on head, waiting for the inevitable “Come in Boy”. Once   in   again,   he   had   decided   on   which   of   my   more   serious   violations   I   was   to   be   punished   for,   and   I   got   a   stern   long lecture,   before   being   instructed   to   turn   and   get   myself   bent   over   the   Chesterfield   sofa   for   my   final   punishment.      His lecture continued, and I was expecting six strokes, but when he passed sentence, it was twelve of the senior cane. As   this   was   my   first   ever   experience,   I   was   a   little   more   nervous   now,   but   followed   his   instructions.      After   the   twelve had   been   given,   I   certainly   knew   that   I   had   been   punished   and   was   told   to   stand   when   ready,   and   once   redressed,   I could leave. Once   I   had   redressed,   and   left   the   study,   the   session   was   over,   and   I   was   to   dress   back   into   my   own   clothes,   and   if   I wanted to, I could take a shower. The   visit   from   start   to   finish   takes   around   two   to   three   hours,   with   around   one   and   a   half   hours   in   roleplay,   and   after we   had   an   interesting   chat   about   how   the   session   went,   and   what   I   actually   received   in   the   end,   and   the   levels   I   had received the various punishments.  This was also more time to come down enough to drive home. I   thoroughly   enjoyed   my   first   ever   session,   and   I   have   used   this   as   my   starter,   to   see   what   it   was   all   about.      We   were both pleased with the level I took, and I received around one hundred with strap/slipper/canes during the session. He   does   have   a   full   shop   online,   and   also   by   prior   arrangement,   can   view   any   items   that   may   be   required   if   you   were wanting   to   purchase   any   item   of   school   uniform,   cub   scout   uniform,   in   most   sizes   for   an   adult,   but   doesn’t   sell punishment implements. I   have   made   an   appointment   for   the   start   of   the   new   school   year,   and   I   know   that   I   am   in   trouble   when   I   get   there,   as   I have already sent him a scenario idea, which he liked, so I am looking forward to going back to school soon. He   does   have   a   safe   word   policy,   which   he   told   me   what   it   was,   but   I   never   thought   about   using   it,   as   I   wouldn’t   have had   the   option   when   I   should   have   received   these   punishments,   and   I   was   making   sure   I   wasn’t   going   to   get   out   of   it by using any safe word. I   am   now   off   for   the   school   holidays,   but   unlike   before,   I   have   a   very   good   idea   of   what   to   expect   when   I   go   back   to school   for   the   new   term,   because   I   ‘accidently’   left   the   paper   with   all   my   violations   on   his   desk,   and   he   has   contacted me   to   say   that   they   are   now   in   my   file,   and   we   shall   be   working   through   them   in   future   visits.      This   will   be   my   first summer holiday knowing what my first lesson is going to be when I return, “A Painful One”! ‘Steven’ I   would   like   to   thank   ‘Steven’   for   taking   the   time   to   write   this   review.   I   hope   that   it   may   encourage   those   who   are thinking about taking the first step to get in touch. I   have   also   received   this   story   from   an   adult   schoolboy   who   has   become   a   regular   visitor   to   my   study.   The   story   is based   on   a   trip   that   he   made   to   see   me   in   late   2016.   There   is   also   a   sequal   which   I   may   publish   if   there   is   enough interest. This story is published with the contributors permission. A trip to the Headmaster’s Study “ENTER"   the   voice   boomed   from   the   other   side   of   the   large   oak   door.   Young   Phlip’s   knees   had   been   knocking together   in   nervousness,   but   he   had   a   surge   of   panic   run   through   his   body   as   he   reached   for   the   cold,   metal   door handle   to   open   the   door.      Entering   Mr   Prendergast's   office,   it   was   exactly   as   he'd   remembered   from   previous   visits   - the   oak   panelling   on   the   walls,   the   large   desk   in   front   of   the   window,   overlooking   the   playing   fields   and   the   chair   was still set off to the right of the large desk. Mr   Prendergast   cut   a   daunting   figure.   He   was   a   traditional   headmaster   who   could   put   the   fear   of   God   into   any   errant pupil   who   had   the   misfortune   of   having   to   visit   him   to   explain   their   indiscretions.      He   may   not   be   the   biggest   man,   but his   flowing   black   academic   gown,   his   tweed   waistcoat   underneath   gave   the   air   of   authority.      The   look   from   over   his glasses was enough to turn the room an icy cold, despite the sun streaming in through the windows.  "Well boy, would you like to tell me why you are before me today?" boomed the voice from behind the desk. Philip   couldn't   raise   his   eyes   from   the   desk,   as   he   nervously   fidgeted   with   the   hem   of   his   burgundy   blazer.      He   may have   been   trying   to   stand   as   steady   and   as   still   as   he   could,   but   the   nerves   were   getting   to   him,   and   he   could   feel sweat building on his brow, despite shivering with fear.  Hesitantly he replied "About the school trip, sir." "Indeed   Stevenson,   indeed.   Before   we   go   into   the   appalling   details   of   what   this   report   before   me   contains,   can   I enquire   whether   you   have   anything   to   say   for   yourself?"   Mr   Prendergast   boomed   while   waving   a   sheet   of   paper   in young   Philip’s   face.   Philip   may   have   turned   14,   but   as   he   was   stood   there   in   grey   flannel   shorts,   he   felt   about   4.   He could feel his face burning with shame as he could only mutter "I'm sorry, sir" "SORRY?      SORRY?      Boy,   I   can   guarantee   that   you   WILL   be   very   sorry   by   the   time   you   leave   this   office.   I   will   NOT tolerate   behaviour   the   type   of   which   I   have   read!"   said   Mr   Prendergast   waving   the   sheet   of   A4   paper   in   the   ever increasingly   nervous   Philip's   face.   "Have   you   got   any   excuses   for   this   appalling   behaviour   boy?"   he   asked.   Philip shuffled   his   feet   again,   cleared   his   throat,   took   a   deep   breath   and   looking   beyond   his   headmaster   and   out   of   the windows into the distance muttered "I was bored, sir." "BORED?   Boy,   this   school   pays   extremely   good   money   to   widen   your   education   and   give   you   the   best   possible   start in   life.      Not   many   boys   your   age   get   the   opportunity   to   visit   such   museums,   indeed   most   would   give   anything   to   go   on a   trip   like   that.   And   you   were   bored?"   Shaking   his   head   in   despair,   Mr   Prendergast   launched   into   detailing   the contents   of   the   report   in   front   of   him;   disrespect   to   teachers   and   staff,   touching   the   artefacts,   causing   damage   to   a rare plate, running off and making the bus late. "My   time   is   precious   boy.      Momentarily   we   will   deal   with   each   of   these   matters   in   turn,   but   it   will   not   accept   this   sort   of behaviour   from   any   boy   in   this   fine   establishment."   Hissed   Mr   Prendergast   while   still   looking   over   his   glasses.     Walking   around   his   desk,   he   picked   up   the   cane   chair,   and   moved   it   into   the   centre   of   the   room.      "Hang   your   cap   and hat   on   the   hook   on   the   door   boy,   and   come   back   here."   Philip   knew   only   too   well   not   to   argue   or   delay,   and   turned   on his   heels   and   slowly   took   his   burgundy   blazer   and   cap   off   and   hung   them   on   the   two   hooks   on   the   back   of   the   large study   door.   He   noticed   his   hands   were   shaking   and   sweating,   as   he   wiped   them   on   his   grey   jumper   as   he   walked back and stood to the headmaster's right leg. "COME   ON   BOY,   OVER."   Philip   lowered   himself   over   the   headmaster's   lap,   and   felt   his   shorts   being   smoothed across   his   bottom.   "If   you   are   going   to   behave   like   a   small   child,   then   this   is   a   suitable   punishment"   said   Mr Prendergast   as   he   started   raining   smacks   down   onto   the   teenagers   bottom.      After   24   sound   smacks,   Philip's   bottom was   starting   to   tingle   and   feel   warm,   but   he   knew   this   was   not   going   to   be   the   end   of   his   punishment,   which   was confirmed   by   the   headmasters   words   "And   don't   you   think   for   a   second   that   this   is   going   to   end   with   me   smacking your   clothed   bottom   boy,   now   stand   up."   Philip   pushed   himself   up   and   straightened   himself   up,   as   he   saw   the headmaster   reach   for   the   clip   on   his   shorts   and   pull   them   to   his   knees,   ordering   him   back   across   his   lap.   Philip   took another   deep   breath,   as   the   embarrassment   of   having   his   white   underpants   on   display,   and   readied   himself   for   the next instalment of pain on his bottom. The   first   thing   Philip   noticed   was   the   higher   pitched   smacking   sound   as   a   further   24   smacks   rained   down   on   his bottom,   raising   the   heat   even   further.   Philip   was   used   to   taking   considerably   more   and   severe   punishment,   and   could take   these   smacks   without   even   making   a   sound.      He   then   felt   his   underpants   being   pulled   down,   then   a   further   24 smacks   to   his   bottom.      By   the   end   of   this   batch   of   strokes,   Philip   was   starting   to   breath   quicker   and   the   smacks   were starting   to   smart.      When   this   was   finished,   Philip   was   told   to   face   the   wall,   still   with   his   shorts   and   underpants   around his knees, with his hands on his head. He   could   hear   the   chair   being   moved   back   to   it's   position   beside   the   desk,then   heard   the   order   to   bend   over   it,   hands on   each   side   of   the   seat.      Instinctively   he   did   exactly   as   he   was   told,   and   felt   the   familiar   touch   of   the   slipper   tapping his   exposed   bottom.   "I'VE   HAD   ENOUGH   OF YOUR   DISRESPECT,   BOY"   shouted   the   headmaster   as   he   announced the   next   instalment   of   the   punishment.   Philip's   heart   sank   yet   further   at   hearing   he   was   to   receive   6   strokes   of   the slipper   for   disrespecting   his   teachers   supervising   the   trip,   and   a   further   6   for   disrespecting   the   staff   at   the   museum.     He   braced   himself   as   the   blue   plimsoll   alternated   his   cheeks,   first   right,   then   left,   working   from   the   centre   of   his bottom   to   the   very   bottom   of   his   behind.   He   knew   from   painful   experience   that   the   headmaster   was   an   expert   at   the application   of   corporal   punishment,   and   the   passage   of   time   hadn't   finished   the   headmaster's   expertise   at   punishing with a slipper. Philip   counted   the   12   strokes   in   his   head,   and   stood   up   after   the   last   one,   jumping   to   his   feet   with   the   sting.      "Did   I   say you   could   stand   up   yet,   boy?"   Enquired   the   headmaster   with   more   than   a   hint   of   sarcasm.      "No,   sir"   said   Philip   with regret   as   he   bend   back   over.      "You   will   listen   to   me   boy.      Let's   see   if   my   strap   can   improve   your   concentration.      I   will count   the   stroke,   and   you   will   say   'I   will   not   disrespect   my   elders   and   betters,   sir'   after   each   stroke.      Is   that understood."  Philip sighed, and mumbled a pained "yes, sir" as he braced himself for the agonies of the strap. Taking   a   deep   breath   as   he   felt   the   cold   leather   touch   his   now   warm   bottom,   he   felt   the   intense   thud   of   the   strap   and the   intense   burning   sensation.   Gritting   his   teeth   to   stop   making   a   sound,   he   heard   "One"   and   he   managed   the required   phrase   through   gritted   teeth.   This   continued   for   the   following   four   strokes,   until   his   annoyance   at   being treated   like   a   small   child   got   the   better   of   him;   "Six"   Philip   winced   as   the   pain   bit   home,   breathed   loudly   through   his nose,   looked   straight   ahead   at   the   bookshelf,   steeled   himself   and   said   in   the   clearest   voice   he   could   manage   "I   will not   disrespect   my   elders,   sir."      Mr   Prendergast   reminded   the   boy   of   the   required   phrase,   and   repeated   the   stroke, swinging   his   two   pronged   Lochgelly   tawse   towards   the   now   bright   red   bottom   bending   before   him.      "Seven".   Philip blinked   hard,   doing   his   best   to   stop   the   tears   which   were   building,   grunted   loudly   then   took   another   deep   breath   and announced "I will not disrespect my elders, SIR." Philip   felt   a   warm   feeling   inside   himself   at   this   flagrant   disrespect   he   was   showing   his   headmaster,   and   the   stand   he was   making   about   his   elders   may   be   older,   but   they   are   not   necessarily   his   betters.   Unfortunately,   Mr   Prendergast didn't   share   this   enthusiasm   for   this   rebellion.   The   times   may   have   been   changing,   it   was   1961   and   popular   culture was   spreading   across   the Atlantic,   however   this   was   an   English   public   school,   and   the   culture   there   was   more   akin   to the   1930s,   not   the   new,   more   free   era.   Mr   Prendergast   threw   his   strap   onto   his   desk,   and   announced   that   he   would not   tolerate   this   and   he   would   teach   a   lesson   with   his   three   pronged   tawse,   informingn   Philip   that   he   was   going   to start again from the beginning and he should just count the strokes. Philip   started   to   regret   his   defiance,   knowing   just   how   painful   this   strap   was,   and   braced   himself   as   twelve   agonising strokes   felt   as   if   they   took   the   skin   from   his   bottom.   Each   stroke   made   him   gasp   and   grunt,   and   towards   the   end   he was   stamping   his   feet   to   try   and   relieve   the   burning   sensation.   But   he   was   proud   of   himself   that   he   didn't   cry   out   or plead   for   mercy.   Mr   Prendergast   stood   back   and   admired   his   handiwork   as   he   sent   Philip   back   to   the   oak   panelling, standing   with   his   hands   on   his   head.   Philip   tried   to   wipe   his   sweaty   palms   on   his   hair   as   he   was   lectured   about touching   the   artefacts   and   how   disgusted   the   headmaster   was   at   having   to   pay   to   repair   some   minor   damage   he   had caused.   Philip   was   by   now   thoroughly   ashamed   of   his   actions,   with   a   tinge   of   regret   at   what   punishment   was   still   to come.      But   his   heart   missed   a   beat   at   hearing   "I   think   six   strokes   of   his   strap   across   your   hands   will   teach   you   not   to touch things you are banned from, in future. Pull your shorts up boy, make yourself decent, and face me." Philip   slowly   eased   his   underpants   and   shorts   back   up   over   his   painful   bottom,   and   fastened   the   clip. As   he   smoothed his   jumper   down,   he   took   the   opportunity   to   wipe   the   sweat   from   his   hands   on   it,   as   he   gathered   his   thoughts.   He   had been   strapped   on   the   hands   before,   but   not   the   3   pronged   strap   his   headmaster   was   holding.      Knowing   what   to   do,   he held   his   right   hand   up,   with   his   left   hand   underneath   it,   tucking   his   thumb   into   the   side.   He   steadied   himself   as   Mr Prendergast   measured   the   stroke,   before   pulling   the   strap   back   to   his   shoulder.   Philip   watched   wide-eyed   as   the   strap tore   down   onto   his   outstretched   palm.   The   explosion   of   pain   made   him   yelp   loudly   and   pull   his   hands   away   and   cup them to his chest. "It's   meant   to   hurt   boy!   You   have   only   yourself   to   blame   for   this.      Now   get   your   hand   back   out."   Philip   slowly   went   on proffer   his   palm   again,   and   as   he   tried   to   straighten   his   fingers,   he   flexed   them   several   times   to   try   to   relieve   the   pain.     He   saw   the   strap   resting   on   his   palm,   watching   as   it   covered   his   fingers   and   palm   entirely.      He   continued   to   watch   as the   headmaster   drew   it   back   to   his   shoulder   and   watched   it   down   until   it   connected   with   his   palm   again.      If   he   thought the   first   stroke   had   hurt,   then   the   second   stroke   was   agony,   and   he   pulled   his   hand   away   and   nursed   it   with   his,   as yet,   uninjured   left   hand.   Looking   at   it,   he   saw   it   was   scarlet   and   was   throbbing.   On   being   told   to   present   his   hand again,   Philip   continued   to   open   and   close   his   hand   as   much   as   he   could,   before   presenting   it   again.   This   time   he   was unable   to   watch   as   the   strap   ripped   down   onto   his   hand,   causing   a   third   dose   of   agony.   Blinking   back   the   tears,   he changed hands, rubbing his injured right hand on the back of his left hand. The   same   process   was   repeated,   until   the   fifth   stroke,   which   brought   a   shout   and   a   "fcuk"   under   Philip's   breath,   as   the pain   hit   home   again.   "I   will   NOT   tolerate   profanities   in   this   office   boy"   as   the   sixth   stroke   crashed   down   onto   Philip’s outstretched   left   palm.   Philip   once   again   blinked   back   the   tears,   as   he   was   shocked   at   the   intense   pain   his   hands were   in,   as   he   shook   them   both,   trying   his   hardest   to   cool   them   down.      He   was   relieved   to   hear   that   the   next   part   of the   punishment   was   that   he   was   to   write   a   letter   of   apology   in   the   headmaster's   detention   room,   which   was   next   door to the office.  At least this would give him some brief relief from the incessant pain in his hands and bottom. Following   the   headmaster   into   the   room,   he   was   led   to   a   desk   and   told   to   sit   down.   Gingerly   he   lowered   himself   onto the   hard,   cold   wooden   seat,   which   despite   the   pain   was   actually   a   relief   to   Philip,   as   it   was   cold.      He   reached   across the   desk   trying   to   find   anything   cold   to   rest   his   hands   on   to   cool   them   down.      The   headmaster   handed   him   a   sheet   of lined   A4   paper   and   enquired   if   he   had   writing   materials.   Philip   once   again   blinked,   as   he   knew   that   would   draw   a punishment   as   he   hadn't   brought   a   pen   with   him.   Duly   a   single   mark   was   made   on   the   blackboard   as   the   headmaster handed   the   errant   pupil   a   pen.      After   listening   carefully   to   his   instructions,   Philip   carefully   set   about   his   written apology,   which   was   genuinely   remorseful   by   the   point.   Unfortunately   he   was   so   engrossed   in   the   letter,   that   he   didn't hear   or   see   Mr   Prendergast   walk   back   into   the   room.   Looking   up   as   the   headmaster   put   another   mark   on   the   board, Philip   realised   he   hadn't   stood   up   when   he   had   come   back   into   the   room,   although   he   thought   he   might   be   able   to excuse this lapse. Once   he   was   finished,   the   headmaster   told   Philip   to   read   the   letter   out   loud.   Philip   started   to   read,   but   had   only managed   half   a   dozen   words   before   being   interrupted   by   the   headmaster   as   another   mark   was   added   to   the blackboard.      Shocked,   Philip   asked   why,   only   to   be   told   in   no   uncertain   terms   that   he   was   to   stand   to   properly   speak, with   his   head   up   and   paper   in   front   of   him.      Dutifully   he   did   so,   while   at   the   same   time   cursing   his   lack   of   attention.     Once   the   headmaster   was   content   that   the   letter   was   sufficient   he   moved   onto   the   three   demerit   marks,   informing Philip   that   for   his   repeated   lack   of   bring   a   pen,   he   would   he   strapped.      Ordering   him   to   stand   up   and   drop   his   shorts and   underpants,   Philip   bent   over   a   desk,   holding   onto   the   seat   for   his   life.   Six   sound   strokes   later   and   the   burn   in Philip's now tender bottom had returned as he blinked back the tears. He   was   ordered   to   stand   in   front   of   the   blackboard,   while   the   headmaster   lectured   him   further   about   a   lack   of   respect for   not   standing   up,   not   once,   but   twice.      And   for   not   standing   up,   he   would   ensure   he   wouldn't   want   to   sit   down.   Mr Prendergast   sat   on   a   chair   and   invited   Philip   across   his   lap.      Picking   up   his   slipper,   Philip   lost   count   after   18   strokes, as   the   slipper   repeatedly   bounced   off   his   bottom   and   tops   of   his   thighs.   By   the   end,   Philip   was   yelping   loudly   and fighting   back   the   tears,   as   he   was   determined   not   to   cry.   The   headmaster   then   decided   that   the   final   part   of   the punishment should be made to remember, and instructed Philip to pull his shorts back up. Philip   took   the   opportunity   to   rub   his   bottom,   which   felt   swollen   and   very   sore   to   the   touch,   before   he   heard   a   clatter behind   him.      Half   turning   round,   his   heart   stopped   as   he   saw   the   headmaster   had   a   cane   in   his   hands.      Bending   it   in   a semi   circle   in   front   of   Philip,   he   told   him   to   bend   back   over   the   desk,   his   punishment   for   failing   to   stand   was   six   of   the best.   Philip   took   a   deep   breath,   and   was   thankful   for   still   having   his   shorts   up.   Counting   the   strokes   out   loud,   Philip managed   to   reach   four,   without   too   much   of   a   problem,   before   the   fifth   stroke   made   him   jump   and   shout   out   in   pain, as   did   the   sixth   stroke.     At   least   Philip   had   survived   this   ordeal   and   was   all   ready   to   go   back   to   the   headmasters   study, when   he   was   informed   that   three   demerits,   led   to   a   further   punishment   and   was   ordered   to   bare   himself   and reassume the position.  Cursing   his   luck,   and   trying   to   argue   his   case   that   he   was   engrossed   in   his   work,   and   genuinely   hadn't   realised   the headmaster   had   walked   back   into   the   room,   with   little   success,   he   felt   the   tap   of   the   cane   on   his   wounded   bottom.     Followed   by   the   familiar   swish   and   crack   as   the   cane   landed   across   his   bottom   extremely   painfully.   A   further   five strokes   in   the   exact   same   manner   brought   counts   of   'oh,   argh,   ow   two/three/four,   sir'   as   Philip   started   breathing   hard as   his   heart   was   beating   out   of   his   chest,   as   he   struggled   to   cope   with   the   pain.      Not   wanting   to   incur   any   extras strokes,   Philip   concentrated   on   the   count   until   all   six   agonising   strokes   had   been   administered   with   the   headmasters usual expertise. Once completed, philip was instructed to get dressed again and return to the study. As   the   headmaster   led   the   way,   Philip   took   another   chance   to   rub   his   burning   and   throbbing   bottom,   which   didn't   help his   hands,   which   were   still   seriously   painful.      Hoping   that   this   was   the   final   lecture,   and   then   he'd   be   dismissed   for   the day,   he   stood   in   front   of   the   headmasters   desk   again,   struggling   to   contain   the   burning   in   his   bottom,   his   hands   and his   face.   Mr   Prendergast   then   set   about   a   further   verbal   assault   on   the   now   timid   14   year   old   over   the   issue   of   running off   from   the   trip   and   making   the   bus   late.   Philip   was   also   reprimanded   for   putting   his   hands   on   the   desk,   instead   of   by his   sides.   His   hopes   that   this   was   only   to   be   the   final   lecture   soon   sank   when   he   heard   the   immortal   words   "GO   INTO THAT   CUPBOARD"   indicating   the   corner   of   the   room,   "AND   FETCH   ME   WHAT   YOU'LL   FIND   IN   THERE."   Philip knew   from   past   experiences   exactly   what   was   kept   in   this   cupboard,   and   his   feet   temporarily   seemed   to   have   turned to lead as he went to walk to short distance to the corner of the room. Opening   the   cupboard,   he   found   his   memory   hadn't   failed   him,   for   there   was   the   dreaded   senior   cane   hanging   on   a rail.   Picking   it   from   the   shelf,   Philip   took   a   second   to   feel   how   smooth   and   light   it   felt.   He   couldn't   believe   that   such   an inoffensive   length   of   wood   could   cause   such   agony.   He   held   it   by   between   his   finger   and   thumb   in   the   centre   of   it's length,   and   dropped   it   on   the   desk.   He   fidgeted   as   he   was   unable   to   take   his   eyes   off   it,   ignoring   the   headmasters continued   lecture.      His   mind   was   snapped   back   when   he   was   abruptly   told   to   remove   his   hands   from   the   desk,   or   they would   be   strapped   again.   Terrified   of   receiving   a   further   stroke   to   his   still   smarting   palms,   Philip   pulled   his   hands   away and held onto the hem of his blazer, to keep them from straying again. The   lecture   continued,   until   he   finally   found   out   his   final   fate,   twelve   strokes   of   the   senior   cane.   He   was   then   ordered to   drop   his   shorts   and   underpants   again,   then   kneel   on   the   seat   of   the   chair   and   reach   as   far   over   the   back   as possible   and   hang   on   for   his   life.   His   exposed   and   wounded   buttocks   felt   so   vulnerable   as   they   stuck   right   out.   Philip felt    the    dreaded    cane    tapping    off    his    bottom,    making    him    wince    and    flinch    at    the    impending    pain    that    would undoubtedly   follow.   His   final   instruction   was   to   count   each   stroke,   before   hearing   a   loud   cutting   SWISH,   followed   by the   now   familiar   CRACK   and   line   of   fire,   worse   than   anything   he   had   suffered   in   the   last   half   hour.      Rocking   forward, Philip grimaced, took a couple of shallow breaths and mummered "One, sir." This   continued   at   intervals   of   around   10   seconds,   with   each   stroke   causing   further   agonies   to   the   now   fully   repentant boy.   By   the   eighth   stroke,   Philip   was   rocking   forward,   almost   tipping   the   chair   over   with   each   stroke,   tensing   and relaxing   his   buttocks.   He   knew   fine   well   that   he   should   stay   as   relaxed   as   possible,   as   the   pain   would   subside   far faster,   but   that   went   against   every   ounce   of   logic   he   had   now   as   the   pain   was   unbearable.   Counting   them   off,   he   was desperate   to   reach   twelve.      The   pain   meant   he   was   unable   to   even   work   out   how   many   strokes   were   left,   only   that   he had   to   keep   count   and   reach   twelve   as   soon   as   was   possible.   Fighting   back   the   tears,   he   finally   managed   to   reach twelve,   although   he   was   sure   he   would   have   no   bottom   left;   he   was   in   absolute   agony,   and   his   feet   were   unsteady   as he   climbed   down   off   the   chair,   slowly   pulled   his   underpants   and   shorts   back   up,   and   stood   shame   faced   in   front   of   the headmaster. Philip was given a final lecture and dismissed. The   15   minute   walk   home   took   Philip   around   half   an   hour,   as   he   shuffled   his   way   along   the   street   home.   His   father was   waiting   for   him,   knowing   exactly   what   had   happened   as   he   had   received   a   phone   call   from   Mr   Prendergast   in   the intervening   time.   If   the   conversation   hadn't   informed   Mr   Bell   of   Philip's   punishment,   then   the   miserable   look   on   his face   told   his   father   everything   he   needed   to   know.   Philip   was   made   to   stand   in   the   hallway   for   a   short   while,   hands   on his   head,   and   he   could   wait   until   his   father   decided   on   if   he   deserved   any   further   punishment.   Philip   stood,   aimlessly gazing   around   the   hallway,   not   giving   any   thoughts   whatsoever   to   what   he   had   done,   and   what   was   about   to   happen to him, as his bottom was still ablaze and his mind was too preoccupied with pain to concentrate on anything else. Within   around   a   quarter   of   an   hour,   Philip   was   daydreaming   when   he   felt   a   tug   on   his   ear   as   his   father   dragged   him back   into   the   living   room,   lecturing   him   all   the   time   about   disgracing   the   family   name   and   showing   him   up   by   his behaviour.   His   dad   informed   young   Philip   that   he   would   never   be   embarrassed   again   by   having   Mr   Prendergast   ring him   about   his   behaviour,   as   he   started   to   take   his   belt   out   of   his   trousers.   Philip   was   no   stranger   to   his   fathers   slipper and   belt   at   home,   but   he   had   never   received   either   so   soon   after   such   a   sound   beating   at   school. Although   part   of   him didn't   think   he   could   be   in   any   more   pain   than   he   already   was,   as   he   dropped   his   shorts   and   underpants   yet   again, and bent over the back of the sofa. As   his   father   continued   to   shout   and   lecture   him   about   his   disgraceful   behaviour   and   how   he   had   no   qualms   about taking   the   skin   off   his   backside,   Philip   had   a   silent   chuckle   to   himself   thinking   that   his   underpants   had   spent   more time   that   day   around   his   knees   that   where   they   should   have   been!   That   rare   moment   of   humour   soon   left   him   as   his fathers   belt   started   to   repeatedly   lash   down   across   his   seriously   marked,   striped   and   swollen   bottom.   Philip's   thoughts about   he   couldn't   be   in   any   more   pain   soon   left   him,   as   the   belt   really   made   him   yelp   and   howl   as   24   resounding strokes   thrashed   down   onto   his   bottom   and   the   very   top   of   his   legs.   Breathing   heavily   and   with   sweat   pouring   out   of every   pore,   Philip   hoped   for   the   best,   but   expected   the   worst,   then   felt   the   belt   start   lashing   down   again   across   his bottom.      The   pain   was   so   intense   he   was   unable   to   keep   count,   but   estimated   that   he   must   have   taken   another   10-12 heavy,   painful   and   punishing   strokes.   Then   as   soon   as   it   started,   it   was   all   over,   as   his   father   threw   the   belt   onto   the sofa and walked off, leaving Philipto get his breath back and compose himself before dismissing him to his bedroom. The   first   thing   Philip   did   when   he   reached   his   bedroom   was   to   pull   his   shorts   down   again   and   see   what   was   left   of   his bottom.   He   was   quite   surprised   to   see   it   was   still   there,   only   about   half   the   size   again,   and   redder   than   it   had   ever been.      He   could   see   a   number   of   very   visible   darker   red   stripes   amongst   the   midst   of   red,   and   couldn't   resist   running his   fingers   over   the   ridges   caused   from   the   cane.      He   had   to   admit   that   he   had   deserved   such   a   severe   thrashing,   and also   had   to   admit   that   both   Mr   Prendergast   and   his   father   were   pretty   expert   at   beating   him.     And   with   a   wry   smile,   he also had to admit that they had both had plenty of practice on him! ‘Philip’ A   big   thank   you   to   ‘Philip’   for   allowing   me   to   publish   such   a   vivid   recollection   of   his   visit   to   my   study.   If   anyone   would like to read the second installment then please drop me a line and let me know. Until the next time. Mr Prendergast.