The worst caning I ever had in the middle school was when I was 12 years old, and it happened just over a year since I was last caned by Mrs R, the Art teacher. At my middle school, women as well as men could cane either sex, as each year had a male and female head of year. These teachers not only ran the year, but also taught a subject. I had witnessed class canings and slipperings during lessons; normally it was one or two strokes on the hand or bottom, but for serious offences you would be sent to the head of year for punishment. There it would be a caning, normally 4 or 6 strokes depending on what the offence was.
The head of year for the 2nd year was Mr G and Miss C. Mr G was a man in his 40s and he was a bully. He was the PE teacher and his sole aim was to intimidate pupils. He would shout and swear, throwing footballs at children’s heads, twist their arms and all other kinds of punishments to deliver pain to the pupils. One of his favourite games was to make people vault over the horse. He would have his so-called little dog standing by the horse, which was a cane, which would be unleashed on anybody’s bottom should they land on the horse whilst vaulting. The poor fat boys that could not vault used to get caned for fun.
Even worse was Miss C. She was the French Teacher and numerous punishments were given out in her lessons. She was in her late 30s, tall and thin, with thin fingers and arms. She had no figure at all, wore glasses and had her hair pulled back into a bun. In fact, she was the most unattractive woman that I have ever met. Between her and Mr G they used the cane with such enjoyment and ferocity I thought someone would get seriously injured, but they knew exactly what they were doing.
One of Miss C’s favourite punishments was top and tails. This is where you were caned on the hands and backside during the punishment sessions. Miss C, like Mr G, had a special trick to ensure when they caned your hands they invented a way to stop your hands moving and delivering the cane with maximum effect.
It was just coming up to Easter and it was in a French lesson that three of us would get the top and tail caning. Miss C, at the end of every lesson, would collect in our books, then at the start of the next lesson they would be given out and if you got a blue slip, it was up to her room for a caning. That day, I got a blue slip for my work being untidy. This meant a ‘top and tails’ in her room after school.
At the end of the day, two girls and I made our way to her office after school. We waited for the clock to strike 4.00pm and the door of the office opened. Without any spoken word, she pointed to a corner in the room and, with her head, indicated for us to make our way there. All three of us entered the room knowing what was going to happen next. In her office, there were two chairs, one was a chair from the classroom, all grey and plastic, the other was a high backed wooden one with a thin leather seat.
“Right,” she said, “You know why you are here. I want to get this over and done with quickly. I will call out your name and you will go to the plastic chair. You will put your left leg on the seat of the chair and your right hand on your left knee stretched out. When I tell you, you will then swap over the hands and leg, so your right leg will then be on the chair and left hand on your right knee. Clear?”
All three of us nodded.
She then continued, “When I have finished caning your hands, you will walk over to the other chair and bend over, where I will cane you on your backside. You will stay in that position till I tell you that you can move. Clear?”
Again all three of us nodded.
She then carried on. “If you move during either punishment, I will add two extra strokes per hand and four extra on your backside. Clear?” she said in her high-pitched voice.
“OK, let’s start,” as she pulled Julie forward. Julie was a short fat girl and I found out afterwards this was her first caning.
Miss C picked up a thin whippy cane that was on her desk and swished it a couple of times. Julie put her left leg on the plastic chair with her right hand resting on her knee. Miss C then informed Julie she was going to a get four strokes on her hand and six on her bottom.
Before Julie had time to react, the thin whippy cane was lashed down on her hand. She gasped and cried out. Miss C brought down the cane again hard on Julie’s hand.
“Right girl, swap hands and be quick about it.”
Julie duly did as she was told, but was crying out loud. Miss C did not care, she just brought the whippy cane down hard twice more on Julie’s other hand.
“Right, over to that chair. Bend over it and lift up your skirt.”
Julie walked over to the chair, whilst the rest of us watched in horror. Julie, being short and overweight, had difficulty bending over the chair. When Julie was in position, Miss C pulled the skirt over Julie’s back and walked back to her desk. Putting the whippy cane down, she picked up a longer thicker one, and swished it a couple of times.
“Now, girl, it is six on the backside. Move or wriggle, you will get extra. Clear?”
Julie sobbed a reply. With that, Miss C, cane in hand. walked the 3 or 4 paces towards Julie’s bottom and brought the cane down very hard on her bottom. Julie gasped amongst the tears, but Miss C carried on walking back to her mark and delivering 5 more hard strokes to Julie’s bottom.
She then put the cane down on the desk and told Julie to get up and stand in the corner.
“Any more noise from you, girl, and I will give you 2 extra. Clear?”
Next it was my turn.
“Right, boy, forward to the chair and hands on your legs.”
I moved forward and did as I was instructed. Left leg on the chair and right hand resting on the knee. Miss C had swapped back to the whippy cane that was on her desk.
“You, boy, will get four on your hands and six on your bottom. Any movement, you will get extra. Clear?”
And with that, the cane was brought down on my hand. My god, it was painful! Then, as quick as a flash, the second stroke was landed, right on the same spot.
“Right, boy, now swap.”
I did as I was told, but had lost all feeling in my hand that had been caned. The cane swished past my face as the next stroke landed on my other hand. Again, the pain was intense, but without time to recover the whippy cane lashed down on my hand again.
“Now, boy, over to the other chair.”
My hands stinging, I walked over and bent over the chair. As I did, I looked at my hands. They had a massive blue weal across each palm. As I bent over, Miss C pushed my face down hard into the thin leather seat as the back of the chair cut into me and I was on tip toe, just like Julie.
“Now, I am going to give you six strokes. Any movement, and I will increase the tariff. Clear?”
Before I had time to answer, I heard some footsteps and the thicker cane came down on my backside. She moved away and I heard the footsteps behind me again, the cane swished, and the impact of the second stroke made me wince. Within the next 10 seconds, the third stroke was delivered right where the first stroke had landed. The only sound I could here was Julie sobbing and Miss C’s footsteps.
The footsteps got nearer again. There was a swish and crack as she landed the fourth stroke. The pain from my hands numbed the pain that my backside was feeling. The footsteps returned and the swish and crack, then the pain as the cane hit by backside. The last one was the worst stroke. I seemed to wait for ages, but then the sound of the footsteps and the stroke was delivered. I bit my lip determined not to move. Then I heard the voice.
“Right, boy, up you get and stand over by Julie.”
I slowly got up as it was difficult to move and stood in between the two girls.
Julie was still sobbing and I wanted to rub my bottom, but if we moved I was sure we would have got extra strokes.
“Right, girl, you are next. Be quick,” barked Miss C.
Maggie walked forward slowly and put her hands on the chair.
“Right, Girl, you have been here before, so obviously the last caning didn’t get through to you, so it is six strokes on your hands and eight on your bottom for you. Clear?”
Maggie knew what caning was about to happen and nodded. Her leg was on the chair and the thin whippy cane lashed into her hand three times. She cried out after the second one had landed.
“Change hands, girl, or there will be more,” yelled Miss C.
Maggie did as she was told and the whippy cane was brought down three more times on her other hand.
“Right, girl, over to the chair. Remember, it is eight for you and no movement or it will be extra. Clear?”
Maggie bent over the chair, her faced pushed down into the seat, and her skirt was lifted up over her back. Miss
C then switched canes and the caning began. As each stroke was brought down on Maggie’s bottom, she cried out and, after the third stroke, the familiar red lines began to show across her bottom. It seemed that each stroke, the swish, the crack and the cry would make Maggie move.
Even though my hands and bottom were stinging, I hoped that Maggie remained in place. After the eighth stroke, Maggie was sobbing and what seemed an age, she was told to get up and join the queue.
Miss C opened the punishment book and began to document the events of the last ten minutes, not looking at us. The two girls were crying, but no one had rubbed any part of their body.
“Right, I have finished with you. Going forward, I want to see improvements from all of you in future and I will be monitoring you. If I feel that you are not improving, then you will be back in here for more of the same. Clear?”
All three of us nodded.
“Right, get out!”
All three of us left and, once outside her office, we examined our hands. They were blue. When I got home, my bottom was the same. It took about three weeks for the marks to go.