During my second year at Grammar school, I got caned three times, same as the previous year. I had graduated into long trousers and felt a man now. I turned thirteen during the first term in 1964 and became a teenager. I was also more aware of girls and ladies. The accounts below are as I remember it, though the names are changed. The descriptions of the teachers are accurate as I kept a diary and recorded the details.

My first term passed uneventfully and I did not get caned. In the second term, I got my first caning. I slammed my hymn book closed very loudly at the end of assembly one day, as part of a coordinated prank. The deputy Headmaster, who was taking assembly, did not see the joke and told the offenders to stand up. Several kids stood, mainly second years but a couple of first years and four third years. There were six girls included. The deputy Headmaster dismissed the assembly but told us to stay.

When the assembly had dispersed, most of the teachers left, except the deputy Headmaster and the Senior Mistress. Mr Brown, the deputy Headmaster, told us he was disappointed in our actions and that he was going to cane us all. Mrs Broadbent, the Senior Mistress, started taking our names so our caning would be recorded later. Mr Brown left and soon returned with two crook-handled, medium size canes. At this point the first years and some girls started sobbing.

Mr Brown positioned two chairs on the stage with their backs facing us. He told us to line up by the side walls with girls on one side and boys on the other, in year order. I was interested in seeing the girls get caned so was at the back of the second years. Mr Brown was in his fifties, grey hair, tall, imposing and in a grey suit and black shoes. Mrs Broadbent was in her forties, short blond hair, tall, slim and wearing a tight fitting blue dress and blue high heeled shoes.

Mr Brown stood at the side of the chair nearest the boys and Mrs Broadbent by the other chair. The first girl and boy were summoned onto the stage and told to remove their blazers, bend over the chair back and grasp the chair seat. I watched as each got three strokes. Both were in tears at the end.

As the canings continued, I focussed mainly on the girls and Mrs Broadbent. She certainly looked gorgeous to a hormone-charged teenage boy and seeing the girls’ tight grey skirts bent tight was exciting. I had never witnessed a girl getting caned before.

Soon it was my turn. I removed my blazer and bent over as requested. Mr Brown soon tapped his cane on my bottom. I was not so scared this time because of the excitement of watching the girls. Mr Brown lifted the cane and it whipped onto my bottom hard. It was much harder than Mrs Dobson and probably harder than Mrs Broadbent had done the previous year. I gasped as the pain bit.

Mr Brown continued and the second stroke followed hard. I gasped again as my bottom burnt again. Mr Brown was soon tapping his cane before it whipped down again. I gasped for the third time but prevented the tears coming. I was dismissed and put my blazer back on. I was told to sit while Mr Brown and Mrs Broadbent completed the canings.

Mrs Broadbent assisted Mr Brown with a couple of the boys to speed things up. Finally, Mr Brown dismissed us all with a warning that it would be six strokes next time in front of the whole school.

When I entered my form room, everyone looked as we had been a long time. My face and the grimace gave away the fact I had been caned.

My second caning was near the end of term. I had collected three detentions in that term and was summoned to the Headmaster. I was told to go in by the secretary so I knocked and the Headmaster shouted for me to enter. Mr Stevens was sat behind his desk. He told me to stand in front of him and then told me my record was bad and he was going to cane me. No surprises there.

He started filling in the punishment book and my record book. I was told to move a chair to the middle of the room and remove my blazer. Soon Mr Stevens stood up and selected a medium crook-handled cane from the cupboard. He walked towards me, looking very menacing. He was in his forties, very tall, brown hair and wearing a black suit, white shirt, school tie and black shoes.

He was quickly in place and ordered me to bend over the chair back. I knew the form and was soon in position. I tensed as he approached as he was feared throughout the school for his expertise at caning. Mr Stevens soon tapped his cane before whipping it onto the centre of my bottom. He was an expert and it showed. My bottom soon burnt and I gasped at the pain. It was by far the worst I had experienced. Numbers two and three got the same result but tears were flowing by number four. Mr Stevens whipped the fifth stroke hard and low making me yelp. The pain was so intense I reached back and rubbed my bottom. But a quick tap on my fingers with his cane soon stopped that. The final stroke was extra hard and diagonally crossed the previous five strokes. I yelped but managed to avoid standing up. I was so relieved when Mr Stevens walked away.

I was told to get dressed while he put the cane away. He gave me a final lecture reminding me that I had accrued four detentions that year and another two would result in a second visit as would three in the next term. I was dismissed and immediately went to freshen up and check the damage in the toilets before returning to class. I remember feeling six painful raised wheals when I felt my bottom.

Luckily, I managed to avoid another visit for accumulated detentions that year. But I did get a third caning from my form teacher, Miss Denny. It was in the last week of the year. I had got cheekier as I became demob happy. I made some comments to friends sat near me about her body.

As I said earlier, I had become more aware of the female form and Miss Denny looked stunning. I suspect I had a teenage crush for her. She warned me once but overheard one comment I made later. She told me to stand outside the door with my hands on my head and to see her at the end of the day. I suspected what was coming but hoped I might escape as it was the last week. At the end of the lesson she called me in.

Miss Denny asked me what my comment meant. I blushed and told her I was admiring her lovely appearance. She said she was fed up with my comments and asked if I was referring to her female attributes. I blushed even more, so she said they obviously were. She said she was fed up with my comments especially about her body and her, and the time had come for her to stop it.

She moved a chair into some space at the front of the classroom and walked to the cupboard at the back of the room. She was soon walking back carrying the cane and punishment book. The canes used by ordinary teachers were not as long or thick as those used by the senior teachers. I remember thinking how gorgeous she looked as she walked back. Miss Denny was in her early twenties, medium height, brown hair in a pony tail and wearing a tight green skirt, light green top and green high heeled shoes.

Miss Denny ordered me to remove my blazer and bend over the chair. I assumed the position and waited. I was both terrified, because she had a reputation as a caner, and excited at this lady caning me. I did not have long to wait before she was at my side. I felt the cane touch my bottom and then it tapped. She tapped quite hard and then the cane lifted. It swished down hard in the centre of my bottom. I was ready for the pain which followed. I was determined not to cry in front of Miss Denny. The second stroke was equally hard but I knew what was to follow. Miss Denny was not holding back. The third and fourth strokes followed and I resisted crying out. Number five nearly broke my resolve as it hit the top of my thighs. I jumped and was ordered to get back down. The sixth stroke was, as I expected, diagonally across the others but was done extremely hard. It was on a par with the Headmaster and surprised me. I groaned loudly but resisted crying.

Miss Denny stepped away and told me to face her. She was smiling as though she had enjoyed caning me. I watched as she completed the punishment book. My name was followed by ‘six strokes on bottom’ then the reason, ‘impertinence to teacher’, then her name and her signature. I stood transfixed as she walked to the cupboard to replace the cane. I still thought she was gorgeous as did most boys in the school. What’s more I am sure she knew it and took advantage on occasions. I smiled and apologised as she walked back. I had not meant to offend her but teenage hormones overcame common sense. Boys will be boys!

Three strokes for disrupting assembly. Six strokes for detention accumulation. Six strokes for impertinence, yet again! So that was my record in the second year. Three canings, fifteen strokes, all well deserved.