School Caning Stories

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School Caning Stories
When I attended secondary school in the early 1970s I was caned by my form mistress when I was in third year. There was detention every Thursday for an hour after school for girls whose names were entered in the detention book during the previous week. Teachers could put girls names in this book as a punishment. My English teacher put my name in the book on a Wednesday because I did not have my homework done and did not have the correct textbook in class. I did not turn up for detention. The following morning the form mistress came to my classroom holding a cane. She called me outside and brought me to a cloakroom at the end of the corridor. She then gave me two strokes on each hand. A stroke of this cane really hurt.

Sarah
Reading your recollection reminded me about what happened to my best friend at school. It was an all boys school :-( and corporal punishment was rare but usually meant a caned backside. My friend got a detention for smoking and genuinely forgot to attend. He was told by our form teacher he would have to take the detention the following week and nothing more was said.

When he turned up for the detention he was told he should go to the deputy headmaster's office first. He was very shaken - he'd just thought he was getting a regular detention. The deputy head said he didn't care whether he'd really fogotten or not - the school policy was that if you missed a detention you got the cane. He had to touch his toes and got four of the best. While he wasn't exactly crying he was very red-faced and a bit damp-eyed - normally if anyone got the cane they rushed to the loo to take a look at the damage, rub it a bit to try to ease the pain, and then rinse their face in cold water so they could go back into class looking untroubled. This time however he was immediately escorted to the detention and had to sit on a hard wooden sit with his hands on his head for the rest of the hour.

Hi there,

Only 4 strokes?!! I rarely got less than 6, and once over the naked arse. Painful.

Were you ever caned in front of anyone else?


My school used to use physical punishment in the past, I think I heard they stopped about 30 years ago.

If they still used it, I would definitely have gotten caned this year. I left campus during lunch and cut a class all at the same time, and then I repeated the offense of leaving campus during lunch, even after being warned of dire consequences if I did.

They gave me craploads of detentions, including Saturday, but no beatings. Your caning sounds pretty bad, and I guess it worked. I don't know how well detention works, judging by the number of people I know who get it over and over again.
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In my fifth year at grammar school, there was a girl in my class called Julie. She was a gorgeous-looking girl but was very much a loner. She was also something of a snitch, and one day she managed to get both myself and my friend Roger caned.
The next day, we decided we would get our revenge on Julie and set her bottom up with an appointment for the cane. The problem was how to do it. All the teachers liked Julie – she was generally a very well behaved girl and only occasionally committed minor misdemeanours, which were rarely punished. She had certainly never been sent for the cane.
In the end, Roger and I decided that the only way this would happen was if Julie was discovered to have committed one of those serious offences at our school which meant an automatic caning – such as playing truant, bullying or smoking. The latter was the only one we could think of that might work.
We got hold of an opened packet of cigarettes and somehow managed to sneak them into Julie’s school bag during the break. We had held one cigarette back – we this smoked sneakily between us and kept the butt. This we placed carelessly on the floor of the classroom, right next to the teacher’s desk.
Our plan worked perfectly – the teacher quickly noticed the butt and demanded to know who had been smoking. Of course, everyone denied all knowledge of it but our teacher wasn’t to be deterred – she announced that there would be a search of bags and desks. She made everyone stand up behind their desks so nothing could be moved, and began.
Julie was sitting on the front row, so it wasn’t long before here bag and desk were checked and surprise, surprise, the teacher found the partial packet of cigarettes. The fact that they were the same brand as the stub pretty much sealed her fate. Of course, Julie denied she had been smoking and said someone must have planted them, but the teacher wasn’t in the mood for arguments and continued with her search.
One unexpected consequence of our plan was that toward the end of the search, the teacher found more cigarettes, this time in a boy’s bag. That boy admitted it immediately, and the teacher then sent both him and Julie to the office with report slips.
As expected, both pupils were told to report to the deputy headmistress at the end of the day. Julie spent the rest of the time protesting her innocence to everybody and anybody, which of course I found highly amusing.
At the end of the day, I casually strolled past the deputy head’s office. Sure enough, Julie was there, looking very upset and nervous, along with the boy who had been caught out. I hung around close for a little while longer and after several minutes, Julie appeared walking up the corridor. She was rubbing her bum vigorously through her skirt and tears were running down her face. I couldn’t help but grin at her obvious distress.
Despite her best efforts, Julie never found out how the cigarettes got in her bag. One thing did change, though – she stopped being a snitch and gained some proper friends. 
Around 20 years later, I met Julie again at a school reunion. We got chatting – she was still single – and actually hit it off really well. Ironically, I found out that she was now deputy head at a private school.
That revelation emboldened me to bring up the cigarettes incident. Julie told me that she had Roger and myself as her prime suspects, because she had got us both whacked the previous day. I had the good grace to blush and finally admitted what I had done. To my relief, Julie was more amused than angry. “Well, I guess we’re equal now,” she remarked. Then she revealed that she had been given eight strokes that day, rather than the usual six of the best reserved for such offences, because she kept jumping up during her caning.
I then carefully raised the subject of corporal punishment at her current school. Although the cane had been abolished in state schools by this time, it was still permitted in private education and Julie said it was still an option at her school, though rarely used, and that she had given the cane herself on several occasions.
With something of a wicked grin, I asked whether she enjoyed dishing it out. She replied: “Well, I do it as a last resort – it feels rather barbaric, to be honest, especially when you’ve had it yourself and know what it feels like.”
Part of me had been getting up the courage to ask Julie to cane me privately some time, but her comment seemed to put the lid on that idea. We did agree to meet again, though, and indeed we dated casually for some time – but sadly, it seemed Julie was too focused on her career to have much time for men, and we drifted apart.
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I used to teach in a private boy's boarding school in Kent.


Discipline was very strict there, yet the boys were very happy!
There was honour and no boy would let his fellows suffer for his
misdeeds, yet neither would a lad "sneak" on his fellows.
Corporal punishment was just an accepted thing for all the boys
and whilst respected, the cane was not feared by them. In the
main, the painful duty was carried out on the bare buttocks of
the offending boy, by the Head or Housemaster, although
other teachers could do so if necessary.


On one memorable occasion, I administered a severe thrashing to a
young boy who had broken bounds. It was one evening after
"lights out" and I was the Duty master. Walking along a
corridor, I heard a noise from a nearby room. On opening the
door, I found 14yr old Allan, one of my own pupils, climbing in
through a window. He was absolutely astounded to see me, as
indeed I was to see him! Once he had scrambled through, red
faced, I simply closed the window behind him and said "Follow
me!" Of course, he did so, now looking rather pale.


I walked past the dormitories and downstairs, past the classroom
area and into the Detention and Punishment room, followed by a
very sick looking Allan. This room was fairly sound-proofed as
it was used for the canings. The boys called it the "Grunt &
Groan room" for obvious reasons and Allan had certainly visited
the room on several occasions since his arrival at the school the
previous year.


"Explain!", I said. "I have been to the funfair, sir" was the
boy's reply. He was a small, blond haired boy, with large blue
eyes, which were as large as saucers as I began telling him off
for his sins. Eventually, I told him to strip for punishment and
he quickly removed both trousers and underpants before going over
to the punishment horse. The "horse" was a leather covered
wooden gym type, with four legs which could be adjusted for the
boy's height. As he stood with hands on head as instructed, I
adjusted the horse before ordering Allan over it. He bent over,
gripping the bar on the other side, pushing his bare bottom up
and out, ready for his thrashing. Once he was in position, I
walked silently to the dais and opened the high desk drawer,
where the five canes were kept neatly inside the drawer. They
were varied, to fit any punishment occasion. Two were long, two
were short, a thick and thin one of each. The 5th was a long,
whippy, ridged rattan, used for the punishment of the most
serious offenders. As I inspected the canes, rattling them
around, I could see Allan shuddering at the sound, his naked
buttocks shaking nervously.


I selected the long, thin cane and swished it around, which
clearly increased the boy's nervousness. I checked the
Punishment Book, noting that Allan had been give 12 cuts only 10
days ago and, looking closely, I could just make out the fading
weals. Standing to the boy's left, I firmly gripped the handle
as I studied his well presented cheeks and then brought the cane
down with a harsh swishing sound. The resulting "THWACK!" caused
a line to appear on his bottom, White for a fleeting moment and
then red as the blood rushed back.


Allan was very stoical as he took the firs six hard cuts without making a
sound, apart from the odd gasp, though his tender bare bottom certainly
wriggled around. At the seventh, though, he gasped out loud when the
cane struck his lower cheeks. "Yeeeeeowch!" he half cried out, "That was
low!" Pleased that I had, at last, gained a reaction, I aimed the next 5
hard cuts in the same area, which really set him yelping, grunting and groaning
in pain, living up to the room's name. By this time, his bottom
was extremely red, and the purple weals stood out very well.


In all, he took a full eighteen strokes, which left his backside
extremely well marked. Allan was, however, a tough boy and really hardly
ever yelped at all, although he moved from foot to foot and squirmed from
side to side as the cane lashed down. Here was a boy fully used to
thrashing as indeed he was, his father regularly beating him with the strap
or, for serious offences, the riding crop.


He got up, very red faced and with tears in his eyes, but still
with a pride in not actually having cried. He dressed and then
went to his room, walking very painfully as was only to be
expected after such a severe thrashing.


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