Getting The Cane

Getting the cane

Getting The Cane!!

For anybody who has never tasted it, let me tell you, it bites real bad, imagine the fear asscociated with it when you are a 14 year old boy. Though I have several stories to relate from a caning ( you tend to remember them ) this one sticks out a bit.

Up to this point, I had received either 1 or 2 strokes with it, depending on what the punishment was for. Each time had been alone ( always been a loner ) with both the Headmaster and the deputy head present. On this occasion, there were 4 of us, each sentenced to 3 strokes each, the reason, being caught with alcohol on school property ( the fields out back ). The other kids I was with I can barely remember the names of.

So there we are, the 4 of us outside the Head’s office, trying for all our might to be the big brave boys we were, though I am certain the hands of the other boys were shaking as bad as mine were. So the first boy gets summoned in and the three of us sat there silently. The Head was talking, but we couldn’t hear a word that was said. Then came that awful period, the complete deafening silence. All eyes were focused on the closed door, and then we heard it, SWISHHH, followed by a holler from the recipient. That broke some nervous silence as all three of us broke into very nervous giggles, with faces as red as beetroots. Number 2 was shortly after, but the giggles subsided rapidly at the sound this time. The internal instinct took over now, as we all knew number 3 was coming and the door would soon be opened, so any semblence of giggling was quickly supressed. Number 3 came and the shriek that arrived with it, and the door was then open. The brave lad walked out in a stoic stance, attempting to show his peers it was not bad and he ‘Took it’. The way he tried to sit, and the deeply flushed look on his face told a different story as the second miscreant went in to the Head’s office.

This time, the 2 of us who had yet to receive our turn, uttered not the faintest giggle or smirk as the second lad took his caning. Now it became a challenge just to hold ones composure as we waited our dreaded turn. There is no feeling like it in the world, having to watch the tender movements of one peer, and listen to the screaming from another as you awaited your turn, it felt ten times worse than the actual punishment itself. Before long, there was now two very tender behinds sat outside the Head’s office trying as hard as they could to sneak a rub without anyone seeing. With my stomach in the pits of hell, I was fortunate enough to be third. But the bad feeling in the gut would stay for a while longer.

The Head seemed to enjoy having you face the desk which had the ominus looking cane lying on it, as he lectured you about the ‘crime’. The whole time you would stand there, feeling tears well up in your eyes, but determined with every power you could pull on, not to actually cry. Then came the caning, for anyone who has felt it, no explaination is needed to describe the intense sting that comes when stick hits rear. Like the other two before me, I bellowed at each stroke, and immediately, as I’m sure they had done, leapt to my feet and rubbed cheeks that were clenched so tight that you could open a bottle of pop with them. So now three of us sat as quiet as church mice outside of the Head’s office, as the final lad took his turn. Having been caned before, I can’t tell you how quiet a caned schoolboy remains for the rest of the day. I am not suggesting it should be returned, because the caning does not actually deal with the behaviour, it just punishes the behaviour, but it was effective for short periods of time.

The final twist to the saga, was the poor unfortunate lad who had been caned last. When he emerged from the office, the poor thing was crying hysterically. I call him poor, not for crying from the caning, but for the unmerciless teasing and taunting he would be subjected to for the rest of his schooldays. The three of us on the other hand, were somewhat revered for something like a two week period, as being some type of tough nut for having taken 3 strokes of the cane and not having cried. As I look back, the term ‘earning your stripes’ springs to mind. Everyone wanted to see the damage, both girls and boys alike, street cred was certainly high at these times.

One final thing. Though I joined the other two lads once we were out of the sight of the Head’s office, in completety destroying the character of the crying lad by releasing our own inner pent up emotions, and laughing with fingers pointed in his face, I really did inwardly feel sorry for him. Was it the caning that made him cry ? Not exclusively, it was more from the fact that the poor sap was forced to listen to three of us get caned, and then had obviously received the same lecture we had all had. In my opinion, he started crying long before the cane even touched him. I feel totally sure about that, because I was as close as you could possibly come to crying without ever having been touched, just standing there trying to avoid making eye contact with the cane as you are lectured for a good minute. A really, really tough battle to keep the impending tears from falling. Nobody wanted to live their days at school being teased like the one boy who did cry that day.

Richard Windsor

Spankings With Dana Specht

7 thoughts on “Getting The Cane

  1. This reminds me of my school canings. The hope that you will not get caned followed by the realisation that you will. Then the fear hits you while you wait. Only thing I never did was to giggle when I heard or saw another pupil get caned when I was in line for it. Then that summons in and the order to bend over. That tensing as the cane touches before that hot burning feeling as it hits for the first time. Finally there was the relief when told to stand followed by the furious bottom rubbing. Thanks for the reminder.

  2. Yeah there are certain events in your life that you remember vividly, even if sometimes the details may not be remembered to an exact degree. A few years ago I was talking to someone about an event and my brother found a picture to send to me. When I got it I was about 5 years off from what I remembered, lol. The impending fear is one thing that never leaves you though.


  3. Hmmm..
    I was sent to an all-boy public school at an early age and got my first caning at age 9. Even at that age the head used to run across his study to deliver the strokes. Never less than four never more than 6, but you could be caned twice in the same day, let alone week. Yes we were taught to have the stiff upper lip and yes bullying was not just rife, but encouraged in spite of any worthless oration to the contrary.
    There was definitely no giggling whilst waiting, but the study nearest the Housemaster’s was always full of eager listeners.

  4. When I was at school in the early 1970s there was some sort of status attached to boys who had been caned. I was something of a quiet boy who tried to avoid getting into trouble. One cold winters day however three of us were caught inside the changing rooms by the head during the dinner. I think we had forgotten a warning that the changing rooms were out of bounds following a water leak.

    The Head read us the riot act and gave us a choice of a double detention or one stroke of the cane. We were given ten minutes to think about it and to report to his study to collect our detention slips or be caned. One of my friends immediately chose detention but the other said he would rather be caned. I could not make up my mind. I had never been caned but had a sort of curiosity to find out what it was like. The lad who preferred the cane tried to persuade us two to be caned instead of spending time in detention and said it would be over very quickly. He had been caned once before and said that it didn’t really hurt.

    I asked him what would happen and he explained that you have to remove your blazer and then bend over and put your hands on your knees and you would soon feel the head tap the cane on your bottom and then give you your stroke. I felt that it would be an opportunity to find out what it was like and gain a little status amongst my friends. I told the others that I would have the cane and shortly afterwards the other lad changed his mind as well.

    We reported to the head as instructed, told him our choice. We were to be caned in alphabetical order which meant I was second. Two of us stood in silence outside the study and heard muffled voices followed by a swish and thwack. The door opened and my friend came out rubbing his bottom. I was summoned in, removed my blazer and nervously bent over. I wondered if I had made the right choice but I didn’t have long to think about it as the cane came down across my bottom. Seconds later I felt the sting which made me jump up and rub my bottom. I was dismissed and my other friend went in.

    We later met up and compared our stripes. I had joined the “caned club” It was my one and only caning. I never regretted my choice that day and nearly 50 years later I can still remember all the details!

  5. I attended a girls only school in the 60s and these stories are exactly the same as my memories of school the only difference is that it was always 6 across my navy blue gym knickers

  6. Growing up in the UK in the 70’s, that type of scenario was written about frequently in spanking magazines of the day. Either 6 of the best with a cane or plimsoll.


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