The following story is fiction about an unofficial in school caning.  If this subject is offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please leave now.  I was inspired by the image shown that I found at https://64.media.tumblr.com/d3eade31d0cd6f0df73f410fd206e6a5/a49b2c617467ce39-cd/s500x750/623002043e14e1b4aa7834d77ad20c3f4af8268a.jpg which is no longer there.   Click to open the image off-site (NSFW).

The setting is intentionally vague.  A fictitious school where British caning still occurs yet modern enough so that all including the students are called with the honorifics such as Mr. yet without uniforms and even co-ed.  The time is shortly before the end of the club hour after regular classes.

This work is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission.  Personal/private copies are permitted only if complete including the copyright notice.

The author would appreciate your comments – pro and con, including constructive criticism, and suggestions.  Please take a moment to email.

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It wasn’t in a regular class that this all occurred but in an extra studio work session for art students to have additional time to work on their great visions in paint and clay during club hour.  Attendance was voluntary and there were students from several forms aged from eleven to fifteen-years-old on this day.  All was going well under the watchful and helpful eyes of the faculty advisor, the well-liked Mr. Hardwick, MA in Fine Arts until the unfortunate events.

No one really knows the exact sequence of events except that it started with Mr. Costin getting a small pan of water and then either slipping or tripping and falling.  That knocked over Ms. Warrick, a couple of easels and works in progress.  The flying water made a slippery puddle so that Mr. Rowden also went down like another domino.  Anyone from the performing arts would have surely thought that it was a carefully staged scene from a 1920's slapstick comedy in a London East End Music Hall.

Unfortunately, it was not carefully staged performance for Ms. Sand had gotten injured and was bleeding.  Immediately, Mr. Hardwick scooped her up and rushing for the door said “Ms. Komer take charge, please.  I’m taking Ms. Sand to Matron for first aid.”  Ms. Komer, one of the oldest and most responsible students, was the club president.  It was only seconds before everyone had gotten going and quickly put things to order so that they could get on with their important projects that would surely amaze the world.  Not five minutes later the end of club hour bell rang signaling that everything must be put away as the building was closing for cleanup and maintenance.  Ms. Komer told Mr. Geisler to stay behind as the others left.

“You caused a great deal of trouble, boy, tripping Mr. Costin.” admonished Ms. Komer.  Mr. Geisler, the youngest of all, was stunned for he though he had gotten away with his misdeed.  “Even if nobody had been hurt it most certainly was NOT funny.”  She paused as a look of dread passed over the boy’s face.  “Mr. Hardwick will probably kick you out of the club as soon as I tell him.  The Head will not be pleased either.”  The boy turned ghostly pale.

“Please Ms. Komer, don’t tell. Please.” he whined very worried.© YLeeCoyote

“You must be punished, boy.” she snapped in reply, as an evil plan instantly took shape in her mind.

“Yes, Miss.” he said dejectedly and still worried.

“There is one possibility.” she said having paused for dramatic effect.  “There is a cane hanging in the cloakroom and if a certain very naughty boy were to show his willingness to repent by waiting while lying over the little table some changes would be possible.”

“Yes, Miss.” he said hopefully and scampered into the cloakroom.  He quickly lost his trousers.  He had never been caned but had heard much about it including that it was always on the bare bum.  Should he believe that the cane wrought unbearable pain as they said was just to scare the new boys or was the cane easily taken as many of the guys had boasted of their manliness said.  Was there even a choice?  He got into position and waited with great trepidation as he knew there was not any other option.

Ms. Komer couldn’t believe her luck.  A boy was anxiously awaiting her to punish him.  Confidently yet nervous, she swaggered into the cloakroom and grabbed the junior cane hanging there.  Instantly and automatically she bent it into a semicircle just as she had seen done by masters in several classes.  It was an instinctive action and she wondered if that action was sort of natural law or the result of some spell cast on every cane made.

Ms. Komer was also transfixed by the sight of Mr. Geisler lying over the table with his very naked posterior fully exposed and on display for her alone.  She started to feel strange things – a mix of new power and even sexual excitement.  This bum was very different from the bums of the naughty little boys she had over her lap when babysitting.  If she had been a boy there certainly would have been a tent in her pants but instead she had a fluid response.  It was like she had been masturbating and the juices got her sex more than merely moist and she was most aware of the pleasant change.

She approached the brave and nervous boy who had surrendered to her will with the junior cane in her hand.  The two shared a basic fact – they were both virgins with respect to the cane.  It should be noted that the young lady often thought about canes.  It was not until it was all over and she was heading home that she suddenly worried that she might have an embarrassing wet spot for all to see in her crotch.

She approached and made the first contact of his bum with the cane which let her know where to stand to swing it.  She saw him flinch but otherwise he remained still.  She wondered if his heart was racing like her was.  Slowly she raised the cane held it high for a moment.  Then she brought it back down in the center of the still unblemished target.

Both were surprised.  The boy yelped in pain.  He quickly regained control as he decided things were bearable.  Of course, he was still blissfully unaware of what far greater pain an experienced caner could and most certainly would inflict, especially with the heavier senior cane when he was older.  The girl stared at the track mark forming across his little bum.  She was not sure that she should continue but the little devil inside her head was yelling “Six of the Best!” repeatedly.  She knew that she had to continue although she did not know why.

Ms. Komer continued with the caning raising the cane and bringing it back down on Geisler’s bare bum another five times.  The marks did not look like the stories all bragged about – equally spaced parallel tracks like a steel gate.  She could see each of her track marks which were not parallel and even crossed others.

“You may get up now, Mr. Geisler.”  The boy quickly stood up and reached down so that he could pull up his briefs.  As he turned to get his trousers she could see that he had a tent pole in his pants.  They both quickly left not knowing what to say to each other.

That night they both relived their introduction to the cane.

The End

© Copyright A.I.L. January 17, 2021

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