Divine Retribution

Chapter 1

In July of the year 1948, Dr. Cuthbert Divine,  Headmaster of Stinton College, one of  England’s most prestigious public schools, looked down with pleasurable anticipation at the familiar pair of naked muscular buttocks of the upper-sixth former he was about to thrash for the fourth time that term.  The buttocks, which were the target of his favourite, fearsomely painful, senior dragon-cane, which was about to descend ferociously upon them, were the property of one, Alexander Prescott, that year’s academic star of the year’s upper-sixth  arts, who, for some inexplicable reason did not seem able to keep himself out of trouble.

But academic brilliance was no path to forgiveness for boys breaking the rules at Stinton, as Prescott was now finding out for the fourth time that term. Dr. Divine firmly practised his fervent belief in the beneficial effects of what he pompously referred to as corrective corporal punishment, applied to the bare backsides of his charges. As far as one could judge from the frequency at which Prescott submittd his arse to the headmaster for correction, in his case it was remedy of questionable efficacy. But Dr. Divine had no compunction whatsoever in pressing ahead for the fourth time within a few weeks and giving the unfortunate Prescott’s eminently beatable arse yet another dozen swingeing cuts of his favourite cane.

Dr. Divine attached no importance to the fact that in striping Prescott yet again, he was probably pissing in the wind in trying to reform the young man with his repeated, generously unstinting, but equally self-satisfying, onslaughts with the cane on the lad’s bare bottom. The simple fact of the matter was that Dr. Cuthbert Divine had that necessary touch of sadism in his heart, which had made him the strictest of strict disciplinarians that he was. In a word, Dr. Divine was a man who enjoyed thrashing his pupils’ backsides; as such he never missed an opportunity, however tenuous, to exercise what had become one of the few pleasures in his life.

After more than 40 years experience, he was more than proficient both with the birch and the rattan cane, with which latter implement he was now engaged in etching twelve painful furrows into Prescott’s bare buttocks. When Prescott was finally allowed to get up from his ordeal and told to leave, it was with the strict admonition that the next time, he would have the extremely doubtful pleasure of feeling the caress of birch across his bare bottom, before it felt the bite of the cane. Dr. Divine was a firm believer in the premise that if a boy deserved to be beaten, then the beating should be painful – very painful indeed. And it had to be said that throughout his long career he had always held true to his belief, as literally thousands of old Stintonians could testify.

In fact, Alexander Prescott, although he was unaware of the fact, had the singular distinction of being the very last boy Cuthbert Divine would thrash as Headmaster of Stinton. At at the end of the school year, in just two days time he was to retire after a lifetime association, first as a pupil, then as a junior master and Chief Disciplinarian, then as a Housemaster and finally for the past 40 years as Headmaster of  Stinton College. As he laid down his cane and dismissed the tearful Prescott – he prided himself on being able, within three strokes of his cane, to be able to bring tears to the eyes of even the most recalcitrant of boys – he prepared to make the very last entry into his personal, leather-bound Punishment Book which he had bought when he had first joined the School staff as a junior classics master in the year 1900.

When this story begins, Dr. Cuthbert Divine, now only two days from retirement, had been Headmaster of Stinton College, a public school, set in spacious grounds, outside the large village of Stinton in North Yorkshire, for as long as anyone could remember.  To all intents and purposes, in most people’s eyes, he was Stinton; he was the longest serving member of staff and no one could remember Stinton College without him.  His quasi-lifelong association with Stinton had begun when aged eight years, had been sent by his father to Stinton Grange, the preparatory boarding-school for Stinton College, located in another part of the same village as the College. There he had quickly and painfully learned that, as an English public-schoolboy, the cane was to be an integral part of his privileged education until he finally left Stinton aged 18 and went up to Oxford.

Cuthbert was not a particularly disobedient boy. But, nevertheless, like most boys who are given what is usually referred to as the benefit of a strict English public school education, from time-to-time, his bare backside felt the bite of the cane and  just once – but believe me, once was more than enough for him – the Headmaster’s birch. But his personal empathetic affinity with the cane began, when in his final year at the School, to his own and everyone else’s great surprise, he was named head-boy of Stinton College.  With this prestigious position came the mandate to cane any and all of his fellow pupils, which was to prove a determinative and decisively formative factor in his future career.

The hitherto docile, owl-like, spectacle-wearing Cuthbert Divine, by his liberal use of the cane – considered excessive by many of the recipients’ view of his largesse, which it frankly was – quickly made himself the most hated head-boy ever in the memory of his then school-mates, irrespective of their age. During his final year at Stinton, as head-boy he rapidly became the scourge of all his fellow pupils, whatever their age. From first-form new boys, through to upper-sixth-formers, with whom he himself sat in class, but whom he nevertheless thrashed, if he considered they merited it, Cuthbert whacked the lot. With the tacit approval – and, it has to be said, encouragement – of the then somewhat sadistic Headmaster, he wielded the cane with a frequency vigour and expertise, which regularly left his victims sobbing in absolute agony.  

During Cuthbert Divine’s year as head-boy, a period which a regular feature of life at Stinton was a band of nervous boys, queuing up outside the head-boy’s study at the fatidic hour of 4:30 pm, waiting for what became to be known among the many recipients as divine intervention.  I can quite authoritatively tell readers that when it came to the caning his contemporaries in the sixth form, Cuthbert performed, with an unflinching and unwavering devotion to duty, the somewhat delicate task of addressing with the cane, then limited to a maximum of six strokes for any one offence, the bare arses of young men of his own age, with whom he himself sat together daily in the same class.

Given his own sexual inhibitions, of which more later, there was never any question of horse-trading of sexual favours for a reduction in the number of strokes of the can, as was that case with several of his sexually active co-prefects when they beat older boys.  Although Cuthbert himself never indulged in any sexual acts other than masturbation, and then strictly only in private,  anal and oral sex between older boys was as inevitably rife at Stinton as in other public schools, where young men with sex hormones coursing thought their veins, totally deprived of female company, resorted to buggery to satisfy their normal sexual urges. So it was not all surprising when certain prefects, presented with an attractive arse to beat, succumbed to temptations of the flesh and agreed to abandon the cane, either partially or completely, in favour of anal sex, to the mutual pleasure of both parties. The potential victim found it infinitely pleasanter to allow a prefect to fuck him rather than to beat him.

However, there are more ways than one to skin a cat. Interpreting the loosely-worded school rules literally, Cuthbert took the words, a maximum of six strokes for any offence, at their strict face value. He became the arch-expert at converting the most basic of offences, which barely justified a beating at all, into two separate offences, which allowed him to remain within the letter of the school rules and give the unfortunate victim a total of twelve strokes: six for each pseudo-infraction. The acute reader will have noticed that the word victim has been used to describe lads, whom the head-boy thrashed, as he used any infraction of the rules, no matter how trivial, to cane boys, as the following case of strict devotion to duty and an even stricter enforcing of the School’s rules shows.

In the first week of the school-year Cuthbert saw, from his window, two new boys take, literally, two paces outside the school gate. It was evident that they were not intending to go anywhere; but they had, strictly speaking, broken two cardinal rules of the School; neither was wearing his cap and both were, by setting their feet outside the gate, strictly speaking, out of bounds: two beatable offences. Given the level of their offences – if one could even call them offences, – a verbal reminder of the school rules would have been enough.  Cuthbert, however, in a strict, literal interpretation of the rules, went ahead and gave the two unfortunate boys, twelve cuts on the bare: six for each offence. Thus was established what came to be known as the reign of terror; Cuthbert Divine quickly thrashed his way to a reputation among his fellow pupils, of being the most hated head-boy ever. But, head-boy, Cuthbert Divine, cared not one whit what his school-mates thought of him. He had always been a friendless loner; but now he was a friendless loner with the power to physically chastise his school mates: a power which he both relished and exercised relentlessly to the limit.

Cuthbert Divine had never belonged to any of the cliques, which inevitably form in any school. He had never made any close friends at school; in fact, the truth of the matter was that he had never made any friends at all. In his adolescence, when male hormones are running rife in every young man’s veins, awakening his natural sex instincts, he never indulged in any of the many, group, sexual experimentations in which his dorm-mates revelled. In an environment where young lads constantly see each other totally naked, he was well endowed sexually and had nothing to be ashamed of.  He masturbated, as do all adolescent boys, once they experience the pleasurable feelings of orgasm; but, he wanked strictly in private, in his bed and under the cover of the sheets. He caught his copious emissions in a series of what are commonly referred to by public schoolboys, as wank rags, which he regularly disposed of carefully, leaving no trace of his nocturnal, five finger exercises.

When, aged 18 he left Stinton to go on to Oxford, although he had had ample opportunity to shed the status, he was still a total virgin. He had allowed none of his school-mates to penetrate him; nor had he penetrated any of them. In summary, Cuthbert Divine, was a loner among a gregarious group of young men, most of whom were basically heterosexual. However, as ever, there were always those who could not wait to exercise their burgeoning sexuality, and who, as access to the opposite sex was totally absent, made the best of it by fucking each other. In common with public school boys throughout the land, they were buggers by necessity and not in any way homosexuals by nature.

What Cuthbert Divine came to realise during his year as head-boy, was that he absolutely adored thrashing the naked arses of his school-mates. The very act of inflicting pain was the one thing that turned him on sexually. The victims, of what rapidly became his insatiable desire to wield the cane, were often boys, whose offences barely justified the severely painful beatings he dished out; but dish them out he did! With his reticence to indulge in any sexual experimentation – even at the level of enjoying a joint wanking session with his school-mates – regular post-flogging masturbation, conducted behind a locked door, quickly became his only outlet for his own sexual needs, which, in spite of his sexual hang-ups, in common with most boys of his age, he felt compelled to satisfy.

Cuthbert Divine was the exception which proves the rule. He was never reticent, as many head-boys often are, even though they are in a position of absolute authority over all their school-mates, to thrash young men of the same age as himself, with whom he sat together in class, if, as he often did, he considered it necessary. Indeed, on one occasion he thrashed one of his 18 co-prefects, over all of whom he lorded his own quasi-impregnable status as head-boy. However, he never yielded to the temptations of the flesh, when, as was often the case, the naked arse one of his contemporaries he had just flogged was simply crying out for a little tender-loving-sexual-care to ease the pain it had just suffered and would have welcomed the comfortingly soothing feeling of being shafted, even if the penetrating cock had been that of its persecutor.

It was not that Cuthbert Divine did not feel the need for post-beating sexual relief, whether in the role of the beater or the beaten; like most young men of his age, he did. The act of wielding the cane and striping a class-mate’s arse always aroused him sexually, as it usually does any flagellator. His cock, with that mind of its own, which every man experiences, always rose splendidly to the occasion – usually rampantly so – and, by exuding precum, regularly urged him, in its own inimitable silent way, to satisfy its lust. But he never gave in to its wishes to commune with another warm body; his poor penis had, unfortunately, to be satisfied with a very-much-second-best, five- fingered massage by its master. It was a trait, which was to characterise his entire life and Cuthbert Divine was destined to die a virgin: a man whose own anus and penis had never been shared with anyone.

Chapter 2

When he finally left Stinton to go on university at Oxford, his mind was already made-up as to his future career.  He wanted to be a master in a public school, where he could indulge his secret, almost sadistic passion, for beating boys’ arses, which he had discovered in his year as head-boy. At Oxford he read Greats: the common name for Literae Humaniores, a course focussed on the culture of Ancient Rome and Greece, Latin and the ancient Greek language, together with general philosophy.  At Oxford, deprived temporarily of the regular opportunity of beating boys, he easily found a group of essentially homosexual young men with tastes similar to his own. They met regularly and disciplined each other with a variety of implements.

However, as he had done as head-boy at Stinton, he stuck strictly to the straight and narrow track of mutual discipline and did not allow himself to become involved in the associated gay-sex acts inevitably associated with mutual flagellation. If his co-flagellants found it strange that he did not indulge in any sexual activities, he was nevertheless much appreciated by them for his prowess with the cane and his willingness to offer his own arse for them to beat. From his own point of view, the regular meetings, even though he had to submit himself, quid pro quo, to the disciplinary ministrations of the others, acted like a blood transfusion, keeping him alive until he could again take up where he had left off when he came to Oxford; he never lost sight of his ultimate objective, which was to pursue a career as a public school master, where he would could indulge himself in his all consuming objective: beating boys’ bare arses with a cane.

After three years at Oxford and with a good degree, aged just 21, in the year 1900, he re-contacted his old Headmaster at Stinton, whom he had left on the best of terms, having fulfilled his disciplinary duties as head-boy to perfection. His Headmaster had said to him on his departure from the School: “Well, Divine, you have been an excellent head-boy, one who has left his mark on this place and, I might add, more importantly in my personal view, on the backsides of the many boys, who have had the misfortune to visit to your study in the course of your last year as head-boy. Your adherence to, and enforcement of, the school rules has been admirable. What a school like Stinton needs is strict, infexlible discipline, which, in a spite of its unpopularity, you, as head-boy, never flinched of visiting on the boys whenever it was needed. Divine, you can be proud of your beating record, which stems from, and stands as a testimony to, the strict discipline for which this School is justifiable famous.  Young man, I do not know what your ambitions in life are, but if you consider teaching as a career, then you would always be welcome back here at Stinton.”

That is how Mr. Cuthbert Divine, as he then was – his doctorate came later – with no teaching experience whatsoever, was appointed to a newly created post of junior classics master, teaching Greek and Latin and began a teaching and flogging career which was to span almost half a century at Stinton.  Frankly, what this old Headmaster had seen in him, after analysing his beating record in his year as head-boy of the school, was a young man, who was as devoted to the cane as he himself was: a young man, who had that touch of sadism in his make-up and would unflinchingly beat boys whenever they needed it; and – it might be added – occasionally when they did not. Stinton was one of those schools where, in the capable hands and strong arm of its present Headmaster, the cane and the birch together reigned supreme, as joint, disciplinary monarchs. And, the Headmaster, aided by his new recruit, who, he had already perceived, was cut from the same cloth himself, had every intention of keeping it that way.

Although totally inexperienced, Cuthbert Divine was to prove a naturally highly competent teacher of both Latin and Greek. However, his arrival as a master was not universally greeted with joy by many of the pupils. It was only three years since he had himself left the School to go to Oxford; so, more than half the school’s pupils, those who were now in the fourth form and above, had a vivid and often arse-scarred memory of his year as head-boy of the School. Now, thanks to his sterling performance – the Headmaster’s very words – with the cane as head-boy, the Headmaster, never one to see talent wasted, had seen fit to create a new position in which Cuthbert Divine’s talents would be put to the best possible use in what he considered were the best interests of the boys: that of Chief Disciplinarian.

The Headmaster, ageing as he was, had for some time been feeling the need of a helping hand, or better put a stronger arm, to relieve him of some of the physical strain, which the regular addressing of boys’ backsides with the cane and the birch, had placed upon him. Needless to say the recipients of his largesse, the boys themselves, did not share the Headmaster’s enthusiastic concern over the future care of their arses to a young man whose role in life as Chief Disciplinarian was to thrash them..

Cuthbert Divine, in his new position, was privileged among the junior members of the teaching staff, of which he was the youngest and newest, to be given a room, appropriately called the Correction Room, basically as a place in which to execute his functions with the cane and the birch.  In addition to being equipped with the accoutrements appropriate to the beating of schoolboys’ bottoms, including the ubiquitous, old, leather-covered armchair, over the back of which boys were invited to bend and present their bare arses to the kiss of the cane, it had also a desk and a comfortable desk chair, in which Cuthbert installed himself to preach – a totally appropriate word, given the sepulchral tone  of voice he affected on such occasions – his pre-flogging sermon to the boy currently before him, before inviting him to assume the classic position to have his arse well and truly striped; no boy ever left the Correction Room other with an exhibition-quality, well-beaten arse, courtesy of Cuthbert Divine.

As Cuthbert was essentially a loner in everything he did, he appropriated the Correction Room as his private office, much to the envy of his young contemporaries, none of whom had his own study. But, then, as we shall see a little later, they were no longer permitted to flog anyone and hence did not really need a study. The main corridor, in which the new Correction Room was located, with typical schoolboy gallows humour, rapidly became known as the Via Dolorosa – the Road of Pain. It was there that boys who were to be punished, assembled daily, at the fatidic hour of 4:30 pm, to receive their just – and sometimes unjust – painful deserts for their sins, both real and imagined.

Via Dolorosa was an apt name for the main corridor, which was not at all concerned with teaching, but with the general administration of the School and punishment of offenders. At one end was the Headmaster’s study, adjacent to which was the office of his private secretary, cum general-administrative factotum. Then followed a series of rooms, one of which served as a changing room, in which those unfortunate enough to be slated for punishment were obliged to change into what was referred to as the appropriate attire for punishment; consisting of gym shorts and gyms vest only, this skimpy outfit had been more or less universally adopted by most English public schools by 1900. It had been originally suggested by a now long dead Headmaster of Churton School near Hereford, as a method giving easy access to that key part of a boy’s anatomy, his bare bottom, where the corrective action, either with cane or birch, or, as was often the case at Stinton, both were applied.  Most public schools worthy of the epithet, which Stinton certainly was, traditionally always caned their charges on the bare and the appropriate attire had the advantage of being quick, both to remove and replace, especially, as was often the case at Stinton, a number of offenders were to be beaten on one occasion.

Then followed two interconnecting rooms, one of which became the newly created Correction Room, the other being fitted out with birching block on which boys, who were to suffer that quintessential, public school punishment, the birch, knelt and were strapped. Finally, at the end of the corridor, were located the head-boy’s quarters, consisting of a study, a bedroom and a bathroom, which Cuthbert, three years previously, as the then head-boy, had himself occupied. It was the place where he had first cut his teeth on using the cane and had then gone on quickly to establish his credentials as first class flagellator and the reputation, among his fellow schoolmates, as a man to be avoided like the plague. On creation of the Correction Room, the main corridor, which housed the three principal flagellators of the School:  the Headmaster, the Chief Disciplinarian and the head-boy, truly became worthy of the name, Via Dolorosa; a road which normally led to agony for any boy who trod it.

So how were the boys who served as cannon fodder for the three arch-floggers of the Via Dolorosa – the Headmaster, the Chief Disciplinarian and the head-boy – chosen? And how were they attributed to atone for their sins to one of the three men, who were all members of what might best be described as the Stinton College Flogger’s Brigade? Well, the present Headmaster, with his sadistic streak, prior to the appointment of Cuthbert Divine to the newly created position of  Chief Disciplinarian to help him in the arduous task of dispensing painful retribution to the bare arses of offending boys, had reserved all official beatings to himself. As he was totally addicted to applying the cane and the birch himself, immediately on his accession to the Headmastership of Stinton in 1875, some 25 years previously, he had decided that he alone among the teaching staff would, henceforth, wield the rod of justice.

At Stinton, discipline had always been regularly and painfully enforced with the cane or birch; some boy’s arse, whether deserving or not, was shredded, by some master or other, on a more-or-less daily basis.  In this, Stinton was no different from other similar public schools, where wealthy parents, who could afford the often eye-wateringly, large fees, sent their sons to be educated and brought up as English gentlemen; an education which always involved regular and liberal applications of the cane and birch to their offspring’s naked, lower anatomy. In those now, thankfully-long-gone, good old days, public school masters thought nothing of flogging a lad’s naked arse and raising a few drops of blood in the process. It was all part and parcel of what was considered the character-building experience of a public school education.

Stinton subscribed wholeheartedly to this philosophy; and  contracts signed by parents consigning their son to the tender loving care of the School, specifically stated that if their son broke the rules, then he would be flogged. The possibility of opting out of this clause was excluded; so parents either accepted that their offspring would be flogged if he misbehaved – a vague, badly defined concept – or broke even the most piffling of rules, or were forced to look for another school elsewhere. Stinton was a big school and had for many years been considered one of the best, but strictest, of public schools and, in spite of hefty fees, it had no problem in finding parents willing to accept the severe, draconian conditions it imposed contractually on them in the interests of giving their sons a first-class education. Indeed, each year, Stinton had to refuse parents clamouring to enrol their son as its yearly intake had been reached.

Much to the disgust and disgruntlement of the then Victorian teaching staff, many of whom were much older and more experienced than the newly appointed, whippersnapper of a Headmaster, barely out of nappies  – for that is how his colleagues thought of him – but who was now their superior, he had, with no compunction at all, immediately deprived them of what they had hitherto taken as their god-given, traditional right as public school masters to wield the cane and thrash any boy whom they deemed deserved it.  Henceforth, all official beatings were concentrated in his hands alone. It would be safe to say that the new Headmaster took discipline seriously and, on a more or less daily basis turned some boy’s naked buttocks vigorously into that iconic hallmark of public school life: the well-beaten-arse.

Wielded formerly by a variety of masters, the inimitable sound of rattan, mating with the bare buttocks of some unfortunate lad both in in classroom and elsewhere, now rang out only from the Headmaster’s study. The well-beaten, heavily bruised arse, often oozing spots of blood where the skin had been broken by the force of the Headmaster’s blows, became a trophy for its owner to show off to his school-mates.  The new, young – and it has to be said – sadistic Headmaster, was a classic case of an all powerful, new broom sweeping clean.

The system, which the Headmaster had introduced in making himself the sole member of the teaching staff to flog the boys, was one of punishment-notes. Masters who had hitherto exercised their right to cane any boy they wished, had now to content themselves with issuing  punishment-notes, which when presented to the Headmaster,  like a winning raffle ticket, entitled the lucky holder to the painful prize of a flogging. It was not surprising that many of masters, most of whom had been dedicated caners themselves and had taken, as many masters master do, a certain mildly sadistic pleasure in caning a boy’s naked arse, viewed their new Headmaster with a decidedly jaundiced eye. He had deprived them of one of the few enjoyable perks which had, until his arrival, enlivened their daily lives. Under its new Headmaster, they had been deprived at a stroke –no pun intended – of the exhilarating and often sexually arousing pleasure of striping an offending boy’s arse. Under the new regime, the concept of share and share alike was definitely no longer the order of the day.

But the six masters, who were also house-masters (Stinton had six boarding houses, of about 80 boys each) continued to run their respective houses as they wished.  Although boys were no longer caned during the day for offences committed in class, other than by the Headmaster and, years later, by the newly appointed, Chief Disciplinarian, the cane was still very much alive and well in all six houses. After all, what would the public-school boarding house be without it? In most Housemasters’ eyes, it was as indispensable to the smooth running of the house as the air the boys breathed.

The boys, however, if they had been consulted on the subject, which of course, they were not, might not have agreed with this statement. In the six houses at Stinton, with the arrival of the new Headmaster, nothing had changed; as before, offenders were summoned, usually at bed time, to appear before their house-master wearing only their pyjamas, which served as appropriate attire for a house-master’s beating; pyjama bottoms were lowered giving easy access to the unfortunate lad’s bare bum, which, a few minutes later, by a series of deft strokes with the cane was embellished with that traditional hallmark of public school life: the highly painful, well-beaten arse.

Of course, the head-boy of the day also did his bit royally to keep out-of-classroom disobedience, of which there was plenty, down to a dull roar.  At even the faintest whisper of an offence, he was never slow to take the cane to any boy’s backside if caught in the act. As ever, successive head-boys, as do all prefects, having themselves gone through the same mill as their fellow school-mates, saw their final year when they were mandated to cane their school mates, as pay-back time and became enthusiastic beaters of bare arses.

No offence, if detected, was too insignificant to escape the head-boy’s cane. And make no mistake, year in, year out, successive head-boys and prefects at Stinton exercised their mandate to beat to the full. All in all, the cane was rarely silent for long at Stinton and the Via Dolorosa was much trodden by boys who had painful appointments with one of the three principal flagellators of the School whose studies defined the fatidic route.

Chapter 3

But now, in the year 1900, the waning Victorian era, a quarter of a century later, the Headmaster wished to ensure that Cuthbert Divine, his newly appointed Chief Disciplinarian settled down quickly into the role for which he had been recruited. He wanted to be certain that the two of them were singing from the same hymn sheet when it came to flogging the boys; and what better than a Master-Class, given by him, in the not-so-gentle art of birching and, its comrade in arms, caning,  a schoolboy’s bare bottom?  After all, who better than himself with 25 years of more or less daily personal experience of correcting – he had, over the years, permitted that mealy-mouthed euphemism for flogging to creep into his vocabulary as it sounded less brutal – to transmit his wealth of experience to a beginner?

The Headmaster was acutely aware, in appointing a young man, still wet behind the ears, so to speak, essentially to handle discipline within the School that he was rubbing salt into a wound which had festered for over 25 years old. On his arrival as a young, new-broom-sweeps-clean Headmaster, he had immediately appropriated to himself all corporal punishment from the classrooms, leaving the then senior staff, who had hitherto been allowed to beat the boys themselves, spluttering privately with indignation.

One could understand their discontent, as the new Headmaster had deprived them, at a stroke, of an act, from which many of them had derived considerable pleasure: a fact that although often true, most of them would have fiercely denied.  They were like a set of young boys, who had been suddenly, for no good reason, forbidden ever again to play with what was for them, their favourite toy.

Particularly incensed by what they saw as the Headmaster’s high-handed action, were those masters, who, in addition to their teaching duties, had fulfilled the function of form-master. From one day to the next, they had found themselves, at the whim of an upstart of a newcomer, deprived of their capacity to correct errant member of their forms in the traditional public school manner by caning them.  Henceforth they were reduced to issuing the offender with a punishment-note, redeemable by a visit to the Headmaster’s study to claim the painful prize that his behaviour merited.

Still today, a quarter of a century  later, there were a number of younger staff members who resented the fact that they were not allowed to beat boys themselves: an activity which they considered to be traditionally part and parcel of any of a public schoolmaster’s remit.

Cuthbert’s’ arrival as a very young, totally inexperienced graduate both as a teacher and, more importantly, in the eyes of his colleagues, in the art of disciplining boys, in which they were so very wrong, raised more than a few hackles; even more so when they saw that Cuthbert was essentially a loner: someone who kept himself rather aloof from his colleagues, cloistered away, as he was, in his ivory tower, the Correction Room. It had been rumoured for some time that the Headmaster was intent on relinquishing the iron grip on correcting the boys, which he had maintained ever since he had arrived on the scene a quarter of a century ago.

Now, here again, the hopes of many younger staff members that they would finally be allowed to practise what they considered their God-Given-Right as public school masters: to beat their pupils as and when they deemed it necessary, had been dashed the ground by Cuthbert’s arrival as an outsider. Cuthbert’s title and status as Chief Disciplinarian, prophetically intimated it all; the writing was already on the wall; his arrival was the thin end of the wedge, and he would eventually inherit the whole organisation of discipline within the school.  Not surprisingly many of his colleagues were jealous of the prestigious status which such an inexperienced young man enjoyed.

Conscious of the fact that he had put a potential cat among the pigeons, the Headmaster, who had been well aware of Cuthbert’s dynamic performance with the cane as head-boy and had encouraged him to come back as a fulltime member of the School’s staff, nevertheless, being only human himself, thought it prudent to confirm to himself what he was sure were Cuthbert’s sterling qualities as a disciplinarian, before releasing him full throttle, so to speak, on the School.

 “My dear Divine,” began the Headmaster, before continuing in his customary, ponderously portentous manner,  “If my memory serves me correctly, as a former pupil of this very School, you yourself felt the bite of the birch rod once only as a reluctant beneficiary of its indubitably invigorating qualities. I presume, therefore that the one time I felt obliged to birch you – I forget now for what reason – it had the intended, desirable, inhibiting effect on your then bad behaviour, as I never had recourse to give you a second dose of that cure-all remedy. Hence, I thought it would be useful for you to see exactly how the birch was used in practice. It is one of the various implements, which you will be called upon to use quite frequently in your present position and I would hate to think that I had thrown you in at the deep-end, only for you to find yourself, as it were, floundering and unable to swim.”

“I hope, Divine, that you will look upon me, your Headmaster, as your role model when it comes to exercising – as you will frequently find yourself obliged to do – the somewhat unpleasant functions which are an indissociable element to your role of Chief Disciplinarian. In my view the birch and its comrade in arms, the rattan cane, are, regrettably, two painful necessities in the lives of all public school boys. I am not sure that the recipients of either would agree with me, but, fortunately, their view on the matter is not important and can be discounted. The boys here at Stinton are no different from boys elsewhere; unfortunately, as elsewhere, many of them frequently need a sharp, salutary reminder to keep them on the straight and narrow path from which they often stray.”

“I think, therefore, that it behoves me, as your superior, to ensure that you are fully conversant with the correct administration of the birch, of which you have no firsthand experience.  Accordingly, I propose personally to demonstrate to you exactly how I consider, this, the most traditional and most feared of all public school punishments, should be applied.”

“By chance, so early in the new academic year, I have, this afternoon, the unpleasant (Did he mean pleasant? Cuthbert wondered) duty of correcting a senior boy, now in his final year: a young man in the upper sixth form, whom I caught myself, not only smoking and drinking, but also in the middle of compromising act of a sexual nature with another younger boy, both of whom are members of school House, of which, traditionally as it is in this, the main school building, the Headmaster has always acted as.  I thought that if you would care to join me at 4:30 pm in my study, I would be delighted to demonstrate to you how I deal with such a flagrant breach of three of the school’s cardinal rules. Look upon the occasion as a sort of master-class in the art of flagellation.”

In view of the gravity of the lad’s offences and the fact that he is a perennial repeat offender, I warned him last term, when I was forced to beat him for the third time, that the next time he entered my study, he would leave it wishing he had never been born. Now, I never make threats lightly; and therefore, this afternoon, I intend to throw the book at this young man, in what I already sense will be a vain attempt to reform him. Consequently, you will have the pleasure of witnessing not only a thorough birching followed by a truly exhaustive caning of an eminently well-deserving pair of buttocks.”

“After that, I thought that you could yourself, as Chief Disciplinarian, deal with the younger boy of this delinquent pair, who, I am sure, has been lured away from the straight and narrow by his older house-mate. However, as a fifth former, he his old enough to know better and I suggest that you do not stint on his punishment. As I feel sure that you, as do I, do not believe in allowing grass to grow under our feet, I have taken the liberty of ordering the boy in question, one Sebastian McGuinness by name, to present himself at your study at 5:00 pm this afternoon. He has been told to present himself to you appropriately attired for the occasion and will thus be fully aware of what the immediate future holds in store for his bottom.”

“I think that as this is his first serious misdemeanour – he has been caned a few times in the past for minor offences – he must pay a painful price. However, I would suggest that you not be too severe; I think a dozen strokes of the birch followed six of the senior cane should do the trick and teach him a salutary lesson. But, of course, I leave it to you as Chief Disciplinarian to decide exactly what is appropriate after you have met him. So, can I take it that I will see you in my study at 4:30 p, this afternoon when I will attempt to impart to you the secrets of how to give a boy a thorough birching?”

“Oh, there is one more thing, before I forget: the adjacent room to the newly created Correction Room has been furnished with a professionally made birching block, at which the unfortunate Sebastian McGuinness will be the first to kneel to receive his punishment. It will also be – and correct me if I am wrong – the first time you will be applying the dreaded birch. As no tradesman can be  expected to function without the tools of his trade, I have taken the additional liberty of asking Mr. Jennings, the Stinton head-gardener, who for the past quarter century has made all the special birches used in this school, to place a couple of his splendid confections in the Correction Room for you to use.”

Chapter 4

So what had Cuthbert Divine made of this orotund, imposingly pompous speech? Couched as an invitation, he knew instinctively that it was intended as an order and that he had no option other than to be present to witness what was to be an exemplary flogging of an upper sixth former by the Headmaster. Cuthbert was doubtful that the monumental flogging the Headmaster had in mind for the arse of the as yet unnamed young man, which, on the face of the matter, quite justifiably deserved to be well and truly shredded, would deter him from misbehaving again. On the most recent evidence, given that the Headmaster had thrashed the boy three times last term and now, here he was again, in the first week of the new school-year, about to pay a painful price for his latest, and it has to be said, very serious offences, repeated roasting of this particular lad’s arse did not seem to have acted as much of a deterrent so far. However, effective or not, thinking of himself, Cuthbert always experienced feelings of great personal pleasure whenever he beat a boy’s naked arse. He enjoyed the sexual arousal that the act of beating a boy’s naked buttocks inevitably induced in him; followed by masturbation, it constituted the only real thrill in his totally inhibited sex-life. And so, he was looking forward, with unalloyed pleasure, to participating, even if only visually, in what the Headmaster had called a Master Class in the technique of birching a public school-boy. 

Cuthbert Divine had the distinct impression that even though the Headmaster had used such words as unpleasant duty and somewhat unpleasant functions in reference to disciplining the boys, he derived the same pleasure from making lads squirm under the bite of the cane as did Cuthbert himself. And then he had said, in reference to the beating of Sebastian McGuinness, whom he had not only handed over to Cuthbert for punishment, but had also arranged the exact time when the lad would submit his arse to Cuthbert’s not so tender, loving   ministrations, that he should not be too severe with him. But then he had then gone on to specify what he considered a not to severe beating might involve: nine strokes of the birch followed six of the senior cane. If this was  not too severe  then what, in Gods’ name, Cuthbert asked himself constituted a severe beating?

Although he had no immediate answer to that question, he sensed that it would be answered later that day at the Headmaster’s master-class. The Headmaster had said that he intended to throw the book at this young man. Reading between the lines of the Headmaster’s words, Cuthbert was already quite convinced, that his lord and master was as devoted to and derived as much pleasure from providing his pupils with a well-beaten arse, as he himself did.

Cuthbert’s thoughts were conformed a little later, when the Headmaster unexpectedly entered the Correction Room, where Cuthbert was sitting behind his desk and deposited a long, narrow rectangular cardboard box in front of him and said:  “Divine, I quite forgot to give you this when we spoke a little while ago. As I said earlier in reference to the birches which I have asked Jennings to bring you, no workman can do his job without the tools appropriate to his trade and so I have great pleasure in offering you a complete new set of high-quality rattan canes, which are the indispensable, daily tools of any public school disciplinarian.  I am sure that you will find them a suitable adjunct to the birch when you come to deal with McGuinness. I suggest that you arrive at my study this afternoon a little earlier than we had just agreed. I have a certain number of things I would like to to discuss with you before Christopher Appleby arrives to answer for his latest sins.”

So there Cuthbert finally had it; the lad, whose arse was to benefit from the Headmaster’s attention later that afternoon, was Christopher Appleby: a name Cuthbert knew quite well from his final year as head-boy at Stinton. Appleby, now in his final year at Stinton had been an exuberantly unrestrained third-former, when then head-boy, Cuthbert Divine’s cane had first etched its painful message into his arse. He was an unrepressed extrovert who, from his arrival at the school had lived his life to the full – and beyond!  He had a penchant for sailing to close to the wind and finding himself regularly in trouble. Throughout his entire school career, his bare backside had been regularly addressed with the cane, by whoever was then head-boy, not to mention having suffered numerous beatings by his house-master and the Headmaster himself.  During his tenure as head-boy, Cuthbert had clear memories of having addressed Appleby’s bare arse with the cane on at least three occasions. But Appleby, to his immense credit, who was also a bright student and usually top of his class in most subjects, had always accepted his numerous, always warranted, painful corrections with good grace.

But what he had also learned from his Headmaster’s last visit and the gift of a complete set of rattan canes, plus the imminent arrival of the birches, courtesy of Mr. Jennings, was that his much trumpeted complete discretion as to the form and severity of Sebastian McGuinness’s punishment was severely circumscribed. The Headmaster had subtly told him that he expected McGuinness’s arse to receive a minimum of nine strokes of the birch followed by six of the cane, limiting Cuthbert’s discretion to increasing the punishment.

However, now that the identity of the Headmaster’s afternoon victim was known to Cuthbert, he was more doubtful than ever that the thrashing Appleby was to receive would have any beneficial influence at all on his behaviour. Of course as was evident, both the Headmaster and Cuthbert took considerable pleasure from thrashing their pupils, especially when a young-man from the upper sixth was concerned. Cuthbert deemed it wiser not to voice his personal thoughts on the forthcoming thrashing having any effect on Appleby’s behaviour. 

After all, who was he, a new master at Stinton to question the Headmaster’s judgement? But he felt, in his heart, that the pain which Appleby would experience would be delivered as an act of vindictive, revengeful retribution for his sins with little hope at all of correcting his future behaviour.  There was no question that at Appleby’s actions merited an agonising beating.; but to pretend that what was to be a pure act of vengeance was for the boy’s own good and would help him change his future behaviour was one of utter self-delusion: intellectual dishonesty of the highest level, behind which both he and the Headmaster would hide their undoubted enjoyment derived from roasting a young man’s arse.

In fact, on reaching this conclusion, Cuthbert had been brutally honest with himself and so, attempted, unsuccessfully, to convince himself that his conscience was clear. However, throughout his entire career at Stinton he would had to live with the knowledge that beating boys’ bare backsides turned him on and that he enjoyed every moment of making a lad suffer agony for his sins.

Chapter 5

At four o’clock that afternoon, Cuthbert knocked on the door of the Headmaster’s study, a room into which he had not ventured since he had been a third-former at Stinton. On that painful, and thankfully, unique occasion, it had been to suffer the one and only birching of his school career, from the very same Headmaster, who was now his senior colleague and would-be mentor; the man, from whom, he would today receive not a repeat of his earlier birching, but instruction, by actual physical example, on some hapless sixth-former’s arse, on how to use effectively that fearful scourge of every school-boy’s life.

The study had not changed one iota in the intervening years. There stood the Headmaster’s massive desk, behind which he sat to preach his customary sermon on the painful wages of sin to the trembling boy in front of him, before telling him to drop his shorts and bare his backside for punishment. In the centre of the room, there stood that selfsame, leather covered armchair, over the back of which generations of boys, including Cuthbert himself, had bent, their hands on each of its arms, their bare arses held high, to accept the painful kiss of the cane.

Finally in the adjoining room, accessible only from the Headmaster’s study, stood the dreaded birching block. Stinton must have been unique as a second birching block had been installed in the room adjacent to the newly created Correction Room. Thus, off the one corridor, so aptly known as the Via Dolorosa, there were two rooms in which boys could suffer the ultimate punishment: a birching performed only by the Headmaster or the Chief Disciplinarian.

“Ah, my dear Divine,” gushed the Headmaster, “I am delighted that you are early, as it gives me more time to explain to you some of the unique – and in my view – extremely desirable, features of the two principal implements of correction used here at Stinton. Firstly, that maid-of-all-work the trusty rattan cane: the graduated canes, which I presented to you earlier this afternoon, are, as I think you will have already noticed, of the straight-handled kind. I find that the straight handle of tressed leather gives the user a firmer and more positive grip of the implement, allowing him to place it more exactly on the boy’s buttocks at the exact spot for which it is intended.”

“But over and above the handle, is the less evident, but much more important fact that the canes used here at Stinton when compared, like-for-like, are 10-15 % heavier than the rattan punishment canes normally offered by the school-supplies merchants. They are made from a particularly dense variety the rattan vine, which is exclusive to the one supplier used by this School. I am sure that I do not have to explain the importance of this fact to you.”

But, of course, he went on and did just that: “As you will have doubtless appreciated, the extra weight of the Stinton canes makes them more painful in use. But one thing I would point put to you; here at Stinton we use, as do all public schools, both junior and senior canes. But the fact the Stinton canes are heavier than their conventional counterparts, has enabled us to reduce the diameters of the senior cane to ½ inch in diameter, thereby maintaining the flexibility and bite of the lighter canes use on the younger boys.”

“The birch has the reputation as the most painful implement of corporal punishment used on school-boys; and it is true that a bare bottom birching is a frightening, not to mention painful experience, for any boy. But I can tell you that when forcefully applied, the Stinton senior cane is just as painful as the birch, as you will shortly be able to judge for yourself when you address the unfortunate Appleby’s bare bottom.”

So the master-class in flagellation was to be a practical as well as a visual demonstration of the art. Cuthbert had, in an indirect, fait-accompli way, just been told that he was to participate in delivering the pain of a well-beaten arse to Appleby. He was beginning to understand the Headmaster’s ways.

The Headmaster now turned to every public school-boy’s worst nightmare: that cheval de bataille, the birch. “Well Divine, as you will by now doubtless have realised from my remarks about the canes, here at Stinton, we pay great attention to the fact that only the very best is good enough to correct the boys in our care; and as it is with the rattan cane, so it is with the birch. Now, as its name implies and as you are you are doubtless aware, the original birch was a bundle of freshly cut twigs from the birch tree. It was relatively fragile and had to be used when freshly cut as the twigs rapidly dried out and became brittle. For that reason, to keep it supple for as long as possible, the traditional birch was kept in pail of water or brine containing vinegar.”

“However, the original birch twigs were rapidly abandoned by more perceptive users in favour of something more substantial, of which the most common were twigs from the hazel tree. You may not be aware, but the hazel sends up multiple stems – small trunks, in fact – from its roots, which provide an abundance of long, thin flexible shoots, which have been long used in many public schools to form what we call the birch. In fact, until relatively recently the hazel birch was used here at Stinton; and if my memory serves me correctly, the only time I birched you when you were a pupil here, was with a hazel birch. But although much stronger than its original predecessor, it still needed to be kept in water to prolong its life.”

“But now, here we are in the year 1900, with electric light and the such (Stinton was progressive and rich enough to have installed its own generator driven by a gas-powered motor) and I am happy to say that things have moved on from the earlier days and we, here at Stinton, now have available a formidable successor to the earlier versions of the birch, which we owe entirely to the dedicated perspicacity of our head-gardener Mr. Jennings and his wife. It is a story well worth telling.”

“As you may know or may not know, Jennings had long made the hazel birches which were used in this school and was well aware of their shortcomings. One day, he noticed that the stump of a badly positioned ornamental maple, which he had cut down the previous autumn, had thrown up a myriad of four foot long, dead straight shoots, which he found were extremely tough and flexible. Of an inventive nature himself he cut off several of the shoots and took them home to show to his wife, telling her that he thought they might make an improved form of the birch used to – as he put it, respectful as ever, to correct the young gentlemen at the School.  To his surprise, his wife, who was a great home-maker, suggested that as the shoots were freshly cut and in full leaf at the moment, that he plunge the cut ends of the shoots into a solution of glycerine in water and leave them immersed there for several days.”

“As his wife then explained to him, it was a country housewife’s traditional method of preserving the green leaves on beech twigs for winter decoration, which, with a woman’s intuition, she thought might also work on maple shoots. But her reasoning went still further; if it preserved the leaves from drying out, which was the main reason for doing it with beech twigs, might it not also preserve the freshly cut maple twigs in full leaf from premature drying. Then if the preserved leaves were stripped off from the stems, they could then be fashioned into a birch rod.”

The Headmaster paused in his narrative, rose from his desk and went into his birching room, from which he emerged a few moments later with a formidable-looking birch rod in his hand. “Divine, I will not burden you with the detailed development of what has become known as The Stinton Birch, which I have here in my hand, other examples of which Mr. Jennings will shortly be delivering to the Correction Room for your exclusive use. Suffice it to say that the birch you see before you today is made of 3 foot long glycerine-treated, maple twigs, firmly set in candle-wax in a copper tube, which itself has been wrapped in leather to give the user a better grip.”

“The ideas of Jennings’s wife have been proved correct; the present implement does not require to be kept immersed in water to maintain its key characteristic: suppleness. It is the fineness of the twigs and their flexibility, which enable them to spread fanlike over a boy’s buttocks and in a few strokes the user can cover a boy’s entire buttocks. It is its repeated application to the same area which developed the uniquely excruciating pain, which all schoolboys fear.”

At that moment, a knock came at the door of the Headmaster’s study: “Ah that must be the wretched Appleby. He is early; so I think we will allow him to stew in his own juice until the appointed hour of 4:30, before inviting him to enter, to face, what, for him, will be his own private Waterloo. As I told you, his offences are such as to justify the very severest of punishments which I intend to visit on him. It may well be that what he is about to suffer will not reform him; but at least it will give me the satisfaction of knowing that he is suffering painful retribution for his utterly reprehensible actions.  If ever a boy deserved a thorough flogging, it is Christopher Appleby right now.”

Chapter 6

Although Cuthbert saw that the Headmaster was practically salivating at the mouth in anticipation of the pleasure he would derive from shredding Appleby’s arse, a pleasure which Cuthbert silently admitted to himself that he too would share, he knew also that the Headmaster was fully justified in punishing the lad severely. Whether or not Appleby, a serial offender, would be reformed by this his umpteenth thrashing was was a moot point; however, Cuthbert fully agreed with the Headmaster that the lad deserved to suffer royally for his sins.

But already Cuthbert, a slave to his conscience, was questioning himself about his own motivation. Was it a sin if the Headmaster and he took pleasure in performing what was their beholden duty to correct the boy, however distasteful it might be?  But Cuthbert was honest enough to admit to himself, brushing  niggling scruples aside, that he was really looking forward to Appleby’s calvary; as, he was sure, was also the Headmaster; but any discussion of their obvious mutual Schadenfreude at what was about to happen to Appleby, went, as ever, unsaid.  Cuthbert was curious to learn how the Headmaster had learned of Appleby’s truly egregious latest escapade, on which subject the Headmaster proved very expansive.

“Divine, it was I myself who caught Appleby and McGuinness making light of three of Stinton’s most sacred rules.  Both of today’s delinquents are members of School House, which you may by now have forgotten, was the one and only boarding house for the boys when Stinton was first founded in the year 1800. At that time all the school’s activities were concentrated in this one building where we now are and the boys’ accommodation was located in the west wing; and that is where what later became known as School House was first located and still is today. Now, 100 years later, School House is the oldest of the six houses of the Stinton School, the other five being located in separate buildings, constructed throughout the last century, as Stinton grew to its present size of 480 boys.”

“Yesterday evening, in my dual role as  Housemaster, I decided to make an impromptu inspection of the upper corridor of the west wing, where the sixth-formers of School House have their individual study bedrooms. Walking along the corridor, I smelled cigarette smoke, which I then perceived was coming from what turned out to be Christopher Appleby’s room. As Appleby had not had the foresight to lock the door, I entered without knocking and to my – and I might add also to their – utter surprise, I saw through a haze of cigarette smoke and half empty glasses containing whisky, a naked Appleby in what is politely described as a compromising situation with another boy, who turned out to be none other than the fifth-former, Sebastian McGuinness.”

Cuthbert interrupted the Headmaster’s narrative: “Sir, you don’t really mean that you caught Appleby actually in the act of….” Cuthbert paused for a moment, suddenly embarrassed by his inability to articulate the appropriate word to describe the act, in which he knew, from the Headmaster’s account, that Appleby had been engaged.

But the Headmaster did not shrink from calling a spade a spade and said: “That’s right, Divine; I caught Appleby in flagrante, buggering McGuinness; he had already penetrated McGuinness’s anus with his penis; and as far as I could judge, McGuinness, far from resisting the assault, was enjoying having himself sodomised. Of course, I immediately put a stop to the proceedings, confiscated an open packet of cigarettes and a half-empty bottle of whisky. I then ordered Appleby to appear before me at 4:30 today, appropriately attired for the occasion and McGuinness to present himself to you, likewise attired, at 5 o’clock. Both young men must be abundantly aware that they are to be thrashed for their offences; but I doubt that either of them has any idea of what lies in store for them.”

“Well, Divine, there you have the story so far. Now, as I think we have made Appleby wait long enough to learn his fate, let us call him in and release him from the uncertainty, which I am sure he is feeling, as he has no idea whether or not he is going to be expelled. This, I can tell you, promises to be the worst few minutes of his life to date; and I have no shame in saying that I intend to use my best efforts to make it so. I am of the view that senior boys of  his age – young-men, in fact – have to realise that they must harvest what they have sown,” Then without rising from his desk, he bellowed one word, come, across he closed door to his study.

Chapter 7

The door opened slowly and a nervous Appleby entered hesitantly into the room where his future was to be decided. Cuthbert recognised him immediately as the former fourth-former whom he had thrashed three – or possibly four – times in his own final year as head-boy of Stinton. Appleby was no longer a boy; in the intervening years his body had filled out and, aided by what were obviously serious, regular work-outs in the gym, he was now an extremely muscular, attractive-looking, young man. His superbly sexy physique was emphasised by the fact that he was wearing, as ordered, only gym shorts and a gym vest. The vest, which he had clearly outgrown, was now clinging to his torso like a second skin, allowing the contours of every muscle of his upper body to be seen. The shorts, also stretched to their limit, were tantalisingly tight at the crotch and were hiding what was obviously a generous endowment. All in all, Appleby was the personification of sexual attractiveness and it was quite easy to see why such a gorgeous looking stud had had no difficulty in persuading the younger McGuinness into sex.

Looking at him grudgingly admiringly, the sexually inhibited Cuthbert asked himself how many other boys besides McGuinness had already had the pleasure of being shafted by the gorgeous Appleby. However, given his history of disobedience at Stinton, Cuthbert was more than ever convinced that the thrashing Appleby was about to receive would not deter him from continuing to enjoy life to the full. Given that he was obviously now sexually active, Cuthbert was certain that McGuinness was not the first, nor would he be the last, to succumb to Appleby’s sexual charm and prowess. Moreover, he was certain that the Headmaster shared his opinion, implying that the thrashing Appleby was about to receive was an act of pure vengeful retribution; the boy had to suffer pain for his actions, which would, in all probability, continue unabated.

The Headmaster began belittlingly:  “Ah, Master Appleby, first let me say how delighted I am that you have been able to join us on what, for all of us here present, I am sure will prove a unique and instructive, and, I regret to say, for you personally, very painful, occasion.  Appleby, as a member of the upper-sixth form and in your final year at this School, I can but say that I was shocked – utterly appalled, in fact – by your despicable behaviour, when I came upon you and a younger boy, McGuinness, engaged in an act so vile and so contrary to the laws of nature and decent behaviour, that it is forbidden by the law of the land. Are you aware that buggery, which is what you were engaged in with McGuinness, carries a custodial prison sentence for anyone caught in the act? The playwright, Oscar Wilde, was, only five years ago, imprisoned for two years for committing the very same act of gross indecency in which you were indulging with McGuinness?”

“And, as if sodomising a younger boy was not enough, you had both been drinking and smoking heavily prior to your carnal activities together. I can but suppose that both of you were drunk, having consumed a half bottle of whisky between youm before giving way to your perverted sexual desire. Frankly, this time, Appleby, as perennial offender, who has regularly flouted the School’s rules for which you have usually paid a painful price, you have truly excelled yourself. For your combined offences, you, boy, and McGuinness too,  both deserve to be flogged within an inch of your lives, before being expelled from this School.”

Cuthbert had been observing Appleby closely during the Headmaster’s tirade, in which he had not minced his words: he had twice figuratively called a spade a spade, in brutally using the words buggery and sodomy for Appleby’s acts. But it was not until the end of his tirade, when the word expelled reared its ugly head that Appleby showed even the slightest sign of fear at what might happen to him. It was only on the mention of the possibility of expulsion that Appleby showed any emotion at all, which served to confirm to Cuthbert that the Headmaster was wasting his breath trying to make Appleby aware of the enormity of his offences; the Headmaster’s words had had as much such effect on Appleby as has water poured on a duck’s back; that is until the word expulsion was mentioned, when a distinct look of panic flashed immediately across Appleby’s face.

Appleby, as previously observed, had always taken the beatings he had countless times received for his offences, with good grace. He accepted that he had been caught breaking the rules and as the young gentleman that he really now showed himself to be, was, beneath his outward, devil-may-care attitude, someone who  accepted, with equanimity, that he had to pay a price of his  frequent misdemeanours.  It was evident that the fact that he might be expelled from the School, as a result of his latest offences, had never crossed his mind.

To him, being caught in flagrante, fucking another boy with whom he had been drinking and smoking was just another escapade gone wrong: an escapade, in which he had been caught red-handed. So what if he was to be flogged for it? A flogging was nothing new; it hurt like hell, but was something he could handle as he had done countless times in the past. But the possibility that he might now be expelled from the School was quite another matter. He had already secured a place to read law at his father’s old college at Cambridge; to be expelled from Stinton now, would ruin his future career. Expulsion was something to be avoided at all costs. But what he did not know was that expulsion was not, nor had it ever been, on the books. But, as he was shortly to find out, the Headmaster’s earlier promise of an unimaginably severe flogging was.

Speaking as Judge, jury and executioner, the Headmaster continued: “So, Appleby, what have you got to say for yourself?  Come on, young man; speak up now; have you nothing to say in your own defence which might mitigate the sentence which I am about to pronounce on you for your offences? Quite frankly, Appleby, your latest behaviour was way beyond the pale; the offences you committed, simultaneously breaking three of this School’s most sacred rules, merits and is going to receive the severest of penalties.”

“I wonder if you recollect what I said to you at the end of the last school year after I had beaten you for the third time in the summer term. What I said then was not an idle threat and I suggest you search your memory, for this evening I intend to do exactly what I then promised you. So, Appleby, come along; the floor is yours; explain yourself; say your piece and let’s move on to sentencing and execution.”

“Mr. Divine has another piece of fish to fry this evening, in the form of your partner-in-crime, Sebastian McGuinness, whose backside merits painful attention from the cane, almost as urgently as does yours; so we should not keep him waiting longer than necessary. Mr. Divine, in his role as the School’s newly appointed Chief Disciplinarian, is also anxious to re-acquaint himself with your backside, Appleby; which, if you do not mend your ways, you may find will quickly develop a strong and frequent, painful acquaintance with his cane in addition to mine. He and I are all ears to to hear what you have to say for yourself; speak now, young man, or hereafter forever hold your peace.”

By this time, Cuthbert could see that Appleby was shaking like a leaf, with the threat of expulsion and all that that implied for his future career.  Clearly, as he had been caught red-handed – at it, as the Headmaster had succinctly put it – the facts were clear and there was little he could say in his own defence, except that he was sorry and would not do the same thing again. Cuthbert wondered if the boy was genuinely sorry; or was he just sorry that he had been caught in flagrante. Given his history of serial misdemeanours, Cuthbert’s guess was that Appleby was incorrigible: one of those larger than life characters, who could not control his urge to commit acts which usually broke the School’s rules.

If spared the ultimate sanction of expulsion, as sure as eggs is eggs, with a full school year in front of him before he left to go on to university, he would be in trouble again by the end of the first month following his reprieve. Appleby’s history as serial offender indicated that Cuthbert’s latter interpretation of his expression of sorrow was probably nearer the truth: he was sorry that he had been caught in the act, but not for the act itself. If he was spared from expulsion, he would probably not be able to stop himself from doing the same again, no matter how hard he was beaten for his sins. Sex was such a driving force!

Appleby did not have a leg to stand on when it came to defending himself. His only possible posture was to say he was genuinely sorry for his transgressions and throw himself on the mercy of the Headmaster, hoping that he would be lenient enough not to expel him. Appleby knew that he deserved not only to be punished, but punished most severely for his actions. But for Appleby, any punishment, no matter how painful, would be preferable to being kicked out of Stinton.

“Headmaster, Sir, I have nothing to say other than that I am truly sorry and apologise sincerely for my actions with McGuinness. If you can see it in your way not to expel me for my actions, I faithfully promise you, here and now, that I will never again indulge in such gross and unseemly behaviour. Sir, I know that I have allowed my personal desires to rule over what I knew, in my head, to be wrong. But I can only say to you now, Sir, that if I am allowed to remain at this School, then I will become a reformed young man.”

“And, finally Sir, I do remember exactly what you said to me the last time you thrashed me at the end of last term. You said that the next time I entered your study, I would leave it wishing I had never been born. Sir, I can but finally repeat that I am truly sorry for my actions with McGuinness and that I will never indulge in such grossly immoral and illegal behaviour ever again.”

“Well, Appleby, you have had the good grace to admit that your behaviour has, to say the very least, been inexcusable. Let me now put you out of your mental misery, before I move on to make good on my promise, which I am pleased that you remembered so precisely. I am not going to expel you from Stinton, I am, however, with the help of Mr. Divine, going to give you a flogging, which, even in your wildest dreams, you could never have imagined could be so painful.  Appleby, kindly remove your shorts and go and wait in the room next door.” 

Chapter 8

The room, accessible, only from the Headmaster’s study was where the birching block stood. In its own way, it must have seemed almost, but not quite, as frightening to any boy waiting to kneel there and submit his bare bottom to the excruciating pain of the birch, as the guillotine must have been to those waiting at the foot of the scaffold for its kiss of death during the French Revolution. The look of relief on Appleby’s face, when he heard that he was not to be expelled from Stinton, was palpable. Never had boy been so eager to step out of his shorts and expose his bare bottom to the searing agony of the ministrations of his Headmaster; and this, in spite of the fact that he had been promised a flogging so savagely painful that it would exceed his wildest imagination.

It was as if Appleby thought that if he did not react immediately and bare his arse for a beating that the Headmaster might suddenly change his mind and expel him. Even the thought of experiencing what the Headmaster had described as a feeling of wishing he had never been born was preferable to being to be expelled. Anything – absolutely anything – was preferable to being expelled.

The Headmaster allowed Appleby to spend the next several minutes alone, in silent contemplation of the birching block on which he would shortly be ordered to kneel to offer his bare arse to be shredded. Meanwhile, the Headmaster revealed his own thoughts on Appleby to Cuthbert.

Unbeknown to both Appleby and Cuthbert he had never had any intention of sacking Appleby, who, despite being a serial offender, was easily the School’s most brilliant pupil in the present upper sixth. To have done so, would have ruined Appleby’s chances for what the Headmaster, with considerable prescience, foresaw as a brilliant career.  But what surprised Cuthbert, with his own inhibitions about sex, was the Headmaster’s relaxed attitude to the act of buggery.

When Cuthbert raised his eyebrows the Headmaster’s largess, he said: “My dear young colleague, to say that you yourself have been through the grind of a public school education – in fact, at this very school – you clearly still have a lot to learn about life in general and, in particular, about life in all male institutions, such as Stinton. Even if you did not indulge in such acts yourself, you must be aware that certain older boys regularly fuck each other. (Cuthbert was mildly shocked by the Headmaster’s unexpected use of the word fuck; but as he was about to learn, the Headmaster, beneath his formal Victorian exterior, was not afraid to call a spade a spade – or even a shovel!)) I personally understand their sex drive, which in late adolescence is the strongest of forces, which many boys cannot resist. It is precisely their burgeoning libidos, which forced Appleby and McGuinness to unite in an act of buggery.”

“It is a phenomenon seen quite often in boys of their age and does not necessarily mean that they are homosexual.  They have anal sex with each other because there is no alternative; cloistered away in schools such as Stinton there is no opportunity for sexual experimentation with members of the opposite sex, who are totally absent from their daily lives. They are totally frustrated sexually and they avail themselves of the only warm body alternative to masturbation: they bugger each other.”

“Most boys, young-men really, who indulge in the act are not homosexual; they simply bugger their companions through force of circumstances. I’ll lay you a pound to a penny, that our friend Appleby will have a brilliant career in whatever he chooses to do in life and that he will go on to marry and have children, as most boys eventually do. Although buggery is frowned upon in this and other public schools, it is, perforce, tacitly accepted everywhere, as it is beyond anyone’s control.”

“I feel it would be totally wrong to ruin Appleby’s career by expelling him because he broke a rule which his natural instincts forced on him. Do not think that I approve of his actions with McGuinness any more than I approve of boys jerking themselves off at night into their wank-rags in under their bed sheets. But I accept that although I can verbally prohibit both acts, I am wasting my breath trying to do so. I, in common with other public school Headmasters, cannot control a boy giving way to his libido, just as King Canute could not control the tide.”

“But, to cap it all, in addition to sodomy, both Appleby and McGuinness were breaking two of the most sacred rules of this school; they were smoking and drinking alcohol. Consequently, allow me to assure you, as you are about to witness and indeed participate in, Appleby’s  young arse will suffer right royally for his multiple sins. As a regular repeat offender, Appleby is about to undergo a beating so severe, the likes of which, even with his past, frequent encounters with the cane, he never even dreamed was possible.”

“Now, Divine, I suggest we both join the unfortunate Appleby in the birching room next door and put him out of the misery of not knowing precisely what is in store for him. Let us together, make it a truly memorably painful occasion for him: one which, if he is wise, he will not wish to repeat.”

Entering the birching room, they found Appleby standing there wearing only his skimpy gym vest, leaving his nether regions totally naked. He was naturally nervous, as although he knew he was to be beaten – and beaten severely – the Headmaster had still not told him – or even Cuthbert – the extent or form in which retribution would be extracted from him.  However, as is often the case, Appleby was, by now, sporting an enormous erection, which any effort to conceal with his hands, would have been futile.

Cuthbert had noticed and inwardly digested the Headmaster’s last remarks before they entered the birching room: “Let us together make it a truly memorably painful occasion for him.” The implication was clear; Cuthbert would be partly involved in administering Appleby’s punishment in some way yet to be defined; the Master Class in birching was obviously going to involve Cuthbert practically; it was not going to be just a watch-and-learn occasion.

Appleby looked inquiringly at the Headmaster, who said: “Well, boy, the moment of truth has finally arrived. Take off your vest and go and kneel on the birching block. Stick your bottom well into the air so that I can see what I am doing and keep perfectly still until such time as I tell you otherwise. Whilst you are being punished, you are forbidden to touch your bottom in what you must know from your previous experiences, would be a futile attempt to alleviate the pain which you are about to feel. And let us be quite clear Appleby; what is about to happen to you today is intended to discourage you from your disobedient habits, which have, frankly, become like an incurable and endemic disease. But over and above attempting to correct your ways, I intend to make your flogging today as painful as possible, as I feel that the moment has arrived when you must suffer severe retribution for your deeds.”

“But, Sir, if I do as you say and take off my gym vest, I shall be totally naked, Sir.”

“Appleby, I would have thought that fact was was self evident and not worth of comment to a boy of your intelligence. But now is not the moment for you to reason why, but to do as you have been told.  So, young man, unless you wish to make matters worse for yourself by arguing with me, you would do well to do as I say; otherwise you will find yourself the recipient of extra strokes.  Remember I told you that the next time you were punished, it would be an occasion exceeding your worst nightmare.”

“I do not make such threats lightly and I intend, in a few moments, to make good on what I said. So, do as I have told you; take off our vest and go and kneel at the birching block.  You will see that provision has been made in the design of the block to accommodate your somewhat prominent, uncontrolled genitals, which you should stow safely out of the way of the birch, which is intended solely for your buttocks.”

As Appleby stripped himself naked and knelt at the block to receive his punishment, Cuthbert looked on, somewhat aghast, but also pruriently aroused, at the Headmaster’s ruthlessness., Appleby had already looked superb in his skimpy gym attire, but now, bollock naked, as any public school boy would have vulgarly put it, his superb physique and sexuality were visually breathtaking; or better put: cock arousing! Appleby could have had any of his school-mates he wanted. His penis was enormous; fully erect as it now was, it was simply crying out for sex; a cry, which unfortunately would, in the immediate future, remain unanswered.

Looking at him admiringly, Cuthbert wondered just how many of his school-mates had succumbed to his blatantly available libido; knowing Appleby’s appetite for misdeeds, Cuthbert doubted that McGuinness was his only conquest. But looking at the young man’s buttocks, which were totally exempt from any traces of the last caning he had received at the end of last term, confirmed that no matter how hard a boy’s buttocks were beaten, there was never any long-term damage done.  

In view of what the Headmaster had in mind for Appleby, as Cuthbert was later to see for himself, the usual description, a well-beaten arse, would prove totally inadequate to describe the state Appleby’s buttocks when he finally left the Headmaster’s study. As the Headmaster had said, the flogging would exceed the lad’s wildest dreams. To paraphrase Charles Dickens’s observation on the goose in a Christmas Carol: there never was such a flogging!

That most steadfast of hard caners, Cuthbert Divine, found himself spontaneously sympathising with poor Appleby; even though he deserved a thorough beating, he still did not know exactly – nor did Cuthbert – precisely what punishment he was to receive. Appleby had been stretched stark-naked over the birching block for at least five minutes, which was, in itself, unnerving.  However, the Headmaster was apparently in no hurry to release the young man from the mental torment through which he was, either knowingly or unknowingly, putting him, as he went on: “Appleby, I should tell you, on this your first birching that I intend to use the occasion to demonstrate to Mr Divine the finer points of the traditional art of flaying a boy’s buttocks: your buttocks!”

“In his new role as this school’s Chief Disciplinarian, Mr. Divine will shortly be taking part of the heavy punishment load off my shoulders which, unfortunately, is a regrettably permanent feature of a school the size of Stinton.  Mr. Divine served his apprenticeship to the cane, with which, as you may recollect from your time in the third form, he became painfully proficient. Today under my tutelage, I hope to show him the correct way to use the birch as I apply it to your buttocks.”

“I regret to say that you, Appleby, have the unfortunate distinction of being the boy, who already, in this the first week of his final year, has been flogged more times than any other pupil in the annals of Stinton; it is not a reputation of which you should be proud. As I promised you at the end of last term, when I corrected you, your next flogging would be like no other of the many you have received in the past. I can but suggest that you mend your ways and make today’s flogging your last. I am afraid, Appleby, that what you are about to experience in the next few minutes will surpass anything you could ever have imagined.”

To Cuthbert’s surprise, the Headmaster took down from a hook on the wall, not the birch but what looked like a heavy version of a razor strop. About two inches wide, and some two feet long, it was made from some type of thick leather.  It had been provided with a shaped wooden handle at one end, enabling the wielder to maintain a firm grip on it during its use, which was patently obvious; all in all, it was a blood- chilling implement of punishment.

The Headmaster turned and addressed a surprised Cuthbert, saying: “I have found, after many years experience that a boy’s buttocks respond better to a birching if they are pre-prepared – pre-conditioned, so to speak – by a few taps of a flat belt, before being subjected to the rigours of the birch itself. That is now what I propose to do to Appleby’s buttocks.” Then with a curt: “Brace yourself, boy, this is going to hurt.”  Standing to Appleby’s right, with the strop in his right hand, he raised it well over his left shoulder, before bringing it down in one smooth, back-hand sweep across his body.

The first of what the Headmaster had termed a pre-conditioning tap, landed with a loud report on the upper part of Appleby’s buttocks. Appleby let out a cry of pain as the flexible leather moulded itself angrily across his buttocks, provoking an immediate reaction in the form of a red band of flesh. In all, six cuts of the strop were given, before the Headmaster moved on to the birch. By this time Appleby’s entire buttocks were flaming red. God alone knows how the Headmaster could describe his actions with the strop as a pre-conditioning treatment. As Cuthbert observed, by the time the Headmaster reached for the birch, Appleby was already in agony.

Chapter 9

Before Commencing What Can but Be Described as the attack on Appleby’s arse with the birch, for judging from his performance with the strop, an attack was clearly what was about to happen, the Headmaster turned towards Cuthbert and said: “Divine, you have probably remarked, that in pre-conditioning Appleby’s buttocks for the birch, as a right-handed person, I stood, unusually, on his right and applied the strop backhand. I find that the backhand stroke allows me to make a better sweep with whatever implement of punishment I am using. You will now be able to observe as I birch Appleby that the back-hand application allows for a more rapid and forceful stroke to be achieved, which gives greater pain when it impacts with the boy’s bottom.”

“I would remind you that the whole purpose in beating any boy is to make him suffer for his sins; in a word, pain is the name of the game. With serial offender such as Appleby, the aim is to deliver as intense pain as possible, which, for several days, will remind him of the seriousness of his offences each time he sits down. A flogging, such as Appleby is about to experience, serves two purposes; correctional and retributional. I can but recommend that you adopt the back-hand stroke; it will ensure that each beating you perform remains agonisingly memorable for the recipient for several days.”

The Headmaster then turned to his trembling victim, who had, of course heard all that the Headmaster had just said. “Appleby, I will not pretend that this is going to be pleasant for you; it is not intended to be. I intend to make it the most memorably painful experience you have ever encountered in the many times your bare buttocks have been flogged at this School. If you continue in your old ways, then this beating will become the norm for you. Brace yourself again, Appleby, while I give you the first 12 strokes of the birch.”

It did not escape Cuthbert, himself no shrinking violet when it came to flogging arse, that the Headmaster still had not informed Appleby of the total extent of his punishment. He had told Appleby, who was already in considerable pain from the so-called preconditioning of his arse, to brace himself again for the first twelve strokes of the birch: THE FIRST TWELVE STROKES! This implied that the punishment would go still further. Cuthbert, who was himself a great believer in thoroughness, was, nevertheless, appalled at the callous and cold-hearted manner in which the Headmaster showed a complete lack of empathy for the way Appleby might be feeling.

Certainly he deserved to be punished – and punished hard – for his repeated transgressions; but he equally should have been told at the outset the extent and precise nature of his punishment. But Cuthbert and the hapless Appleby both knew that he was being subjected to the mental torture of what had become an open-ended flogging.

Cuthbert found himself wincing, as the Stinton Birch came flashing down through the air, emitting a high-pitched whine, which came to an abrupt end with a sharp crack, as the individual twigs of this ferocious implement transmitted their painful message to Appleby’s naked arse. The Headmaster, with the consummate expertise gained over many years, covered the entire surface of Appleby’s trembling buttocks with his first three strokes.

As the flexible, ligneous shoots of the maple landed on Appleby’s backside, they spread out fanwise, leaving his bare buttocks with a myriad of extremely fine cuts. By the time the Headmaster had finished and Appleby’s arse has taken twelve cuts, his naked buttocks were bright red and already spotted with blood, where the birch had broken the skin in certain places. Cuthbert was impressed by the Headmaster’s obvious expertise;, but at the same time, he felt uneasy about what was to happen next.

However, he did not have long to wait, as the Headmaster turned to him and said: “Well, there you are Divine; you have now seen what can be achieved by the backhanded technique.  I suggest that you now try your hand and complete the first part of Appleby’s punishment by giving him another six strokes of the birch to bring up his total to 18 strokes.”  He then handed the birch to a reluctant and horrified Cuthbert, who knew that the Headmaster’s suggestion, was, in fact an order, which he had no option but to obey. But what had made Cuthbert’s blood run cold, was the Headmaster remark that he would now be completing the first part of Appleby’s punishment. What, in God’s name, was still in store for Appleby?

What Appleby himself thought, as he was also party to the Headmaster’s remarks, we can only guess; he must have been on the verge of that apocryphal act of shitting bricks.  But there was nothing – absolutely nothing – he could do to avoid his fate, which was being revealed piecemeal by the Headmaster alone. In his treatment of Appleby, the Headmaster was showing himself for what he truly was: an utter sadist. Not even now, did either Cuthbert or Appleby have any idea of when the onslaught on the lad’s arse would come to an end. To Cuthbert, it seemed as if the Headmaster was improvising scenes in a never ending story. He feared for his own involvement as much as he was now beginning to fear for Appleby’s arse.

Cuthbert was forced to take the birch, which the Headmaster was offering him. The Headmaster then decided to introduce what he obviously considered was a witticism into the proceedings. In what he imagined was a jaunty tone of voice, he said:  “Appleby, my lad, you should count yourself fortunate today, as you will be the only boy in living memory to have the honour to be able to compare, one after the other, the birching techniques of two of your masters. The six additional strokes, which the School’s Chief Disciplinarian has graciously consented to give you, will put you in the unique position of having undergone what might best be called Divine Intervention.”  

It is questionable, under the circumstances, whether either Appleby, whose arse was already on fire, or Cuthbert, in the role of Divine Intervener, which had been sprung upon him unexpectedly out of the blue, appreciated the Headmaster’s attempt at humour. Both Appleby and Cuthbert quite independently had reached the same conclusion about the Headmaster: he was an out and out, died-in-the-wool sadist! However, neither of them could do anything to influence the still-undefined future course of events which would bring this horrific piece of theatre to an end.

Cuthbert now found himself, through no fault of his own, in an invidious position. Far from having graciously consented, as the Headmaster had put it, to bring the painful imprimatur of his Divine Intervention to bear on Appleby’s arse, both he and the Headmaster knew that he had been railroaded into adding more fuel to the fire that   was consuming Appleby’s already suffering buttocks.  It was not that Cuthbert objected, in principle – or indeed, in practice – to beating a boy on the bare on even the flimsiest of excuses. In actual fact, quite to the contrary; he most definitely did not.

As we already know, after his year as head-boy of Stinton, he had recognised his own sadistic nature – mild when compared with that of the Headmaster – and had made it his mission in life to become a public school master, with the precise objective in mind of having a job, a regular part of which would involve providing delinquent boys with that hallmark of public school life: the well-beaten arse. So, in theory, in his post as Chief Disciplinarian of Stinton, he was the ideal man to help his Headmaster provide the unquestioningly deserving Appleby, with his just deserts.

What had made Cuthbert uneasy was not so much the severity of  Appleby’s punishment, but the way in which the Headmaster had clearly delighted – or more accurately put, was still delighting – in  psychologically leaving the lad in suspense, not knowing what the immediate future – and I do mean immediate – held for him. Here they were; Appleby had already suffered a  belting, which was, in fact, in itself, a painful punishment, which, as the Headmaster had put it, was to pre-condition his arse for the birch, twelve swingeing cuts of which had followed, leaving the lad in searing agony. And now, Cuthbert was being ordered to give Appleby a further six cuts of the birch, bringing the total up to 18 cuts in all: a staggeringly painful punishment by any standards.

But would that be it? Would it stop there? Cuthbert was unsure; it appeared that the Headmaster was designing the choreography of the events; adding little flourishes as things progressed. But, despite his uneasiness, Cuthbert could do little other then acquiesce to the Headmaster and give poor Appleby a further six cuts of the birch as ordered. But what personally disturbed Cuthbert the most, given his own love of thrashing boys’ naked arses, was the fact that, in spite of his misgivings, he had enjoyed watching the Headmaster flog Appleby.

Although he disapproved totally of the way the Headmaster was handling Appleby’s punishment, he knew, being totally honest with himself, that he was going to enjoy giving the boy six more strokes of the birch, especially as it would be his maiden attempt at using this legendary instrument.  It was this antagonistic polarity of views, which Cuthbert he knew he somehow had to resolve in his own conscience, if he was ever to be at peace with himself. Luckily for him, this was to prove the one and only occasion on which the Headmaster and he were to share the flogging of a boy between them. 

In future, beginning in a few brief minutes with McGuinness, he would be alone with the boy whose arse was to be roasted. Although he had no intention of soft pedalling on McGuinness’s punishment, for the boy did deserve a thorough beating for his offences, he promised himself he would not impose the mental torture on him, in the way the Headmaster had done – and, in fact, was still doing – with Appleby.

As Cuthbert approached the unfortunate Appleby and viewed the ill-fated arse on which he was to inflict still more suffering, he was uncertain about back-hand technique recommended by the Headmaster. But looking at Appleby’s already well-birched buttocks, he realised that the birch, due to its spreading over a wide area of the target, did not demand the accuracy of the cane. Supported by verbal exhortations from the Headmaster not to hold back, he went ahead and gave Appleby six resounding cuts, bringing the number of cuts to 18 in all: by any measure, a thorough flogging.

How Appleby managed to to maintain his composure after such a dual assault, first with the belt and then with the birch on his naked backside, God alone knows; but he did. If the Headmaster’s intention had been to break the lad, and bring him to heel, he had not succeeded.

“Appleby, your birching is now complete and you may now stand up.”  The young man hauled himself slowly from his kneeling position over the birching block, stood straight up, to face his two persecutors. Standing there stark naked, almost to attention, he cut a proud and imposing, athletically muscular figure almost six feet tall. His face showed neither emotion nor pain, and he was defiantly sporting that uncontrollable indication of his sexual arousal, which so often accompanies corporal punishment in both the beater and, as was now the case, the beaten. Appleby made no effort at all to hide, with his hands, the enormous erection, with which he had buggered McGuiness, which, as he was facing the Headmaster and Cuthbert, was pointing accusingly at them.

But if Appleby had thought that his punishment was now complete, he was to be sorely disillusioned as the Headmaster said to him: “Appleby, if you would be good enough to step back into my study, you will see, in the middle of the room, an armchair, with which you are intimately familiar. I do not have to tell you its purpose or the protocol to follow, which you know well from your numerous past visits to my study.”

Cuthbert knew instinctively what was coming next; and he was not wrong.  The Headmaster continued: “Once in position over the chair, Mr. Divine will have the pleasure of completing your punishment by giving your well-deserving bottom ten closing strokes with the half-inch senior cane. The ten cuts will be disposed as follows: two on your upper buttocks, four on your crease and four as gating diagonals, which together will provide you with an aesthetically pleasing, artistic backside to show with pride to your classmates, as I believe is still the custom after a beating.”

Cuthbert could hardly believe his ears. Once again the Headmaster had not only handed him a job without any forewarning, but he had also demonstrated his desire to control every detail of what was to follow; nothing – strictly nothing – was left to Cuthbert’s discretion. He had been told indirectly – by inference from the Headmaster’s remarks addressed specifically to Appleby – not only the calibre type of cane to use and the number of strokes to give, but even where to place each stroke on Appleby’s arse.

When the Headmaster finally turned to address Cuthbert directly, it was to refine his instructions: “Divine, I would like you to take the utmost care in placing the cuts of the cane across Appleby’s bottom. It goes without saying that they should be as painful as possible; but try also to ensure that the first six cuts are strictly parallel and that the four crossing diagonals are evenly spaced. I attach great importance, in such major floggings as this, to the visual aspects of a boy’s wwll-beaten backside is a testimony to his class-mates not only of our competence as masters, but also of our resolve to uphold the traditions which govern daily life at this School. I want Appleby’s backside to transmit a message to senior boys who see it, which says: There, but for the Grace of God, go I.”

To say that Cuthbert was incensed by the off-hand way in which the Headmaster had told him what he had to do, was putting it mildly. Without giving him an order directly, the Headmaster had told him exactly what he was to do; the cane to use; the number of cuts to give and, even exactly where to place them. Had he forgotten that he himself had appointed Cuthbert as Chief Disciplinarian? Surely he must realise that his new colleague, who had been a very successful head-boy just few years ago, was capable of beating a boy’s arse thoroughly, without giving him instructions in such mincing detail? Apparently not!

Cuthbert was rapidly seeing the Headmaster for what he truly was: an all powerful, control freak: a man who wanted everything exactly his own way and who was like a steam roller, crushing everything in its path: colleagues and pupils alike. Anyway, as a newly appointed master, his place was not to argue with his superior and so Cuthbert wisely held his tongue, keeping his growing resentment of the Headmaster to himself. The one positive thing that Cuthbert could say about his superior was that like himself, the Headmaster was an enthusiastic advocate of corporal punishment; they both enjoyed administering it, whether it reformed the recipient or not.

 However, he could not help but feel that with what Appleby had already endured, he had already paid royally for his offences. Ten additional, well-laid-on strokes with the senior cane, was, in itself, by any standard, a very severe punishment. How Appleby would support the final attack on an arse already racked with agonising pain was just unimaginable. But this was what he, Cuthbert, now had to do.

The birch, that most feared of all public school punishment implements, has traditionally had the reputation as being the most painful all public school punishments; but Cuthbert, as a virtuoso user of the cane, was not so sure. The birch, due to the fanning out of its individual thin scions on contact with its target, allows the wielder to cover every inch of a boy’s arse. But as its individual components are, in themselves, relatively light, they are never capable of producing the deep, well-defined, long-lived, bruised welts of the cane.

It is for this reason that the first few strokes of the birch to land on a lad’s bare arse – and the birch must always be applied on the bare, if it is to be effective – often lull the recipient into a false sense of complacency of the ultimate pain he will experience. It is the repeated bite of the fine twigs applied repeatedly to the same area, which builds up the fearsome pain for which the birch is justifiably famous. For that reason, many advocates of the birch see 12 cuts as the minimum.

However, advocates of the cane, such as Cuthbert, point out that even a well-birched arse, although very painful, lacks the long-enduring, excruciatingly painful welts, which can be achieved only with a soundly-applied rattan cane.  Cuthbert, new to the birch, was already convinced that Appleby had managed to maintain his composure in spite of the pain to which he had been subjected, because, although agonising, the pain was essentially superficial. He was quite convinced that with ten strokes of the cane, he would do much more damage to the unfortunate Appleby’s ill-fated arse than the belt and the cane had done together.

Yet again, Cuthbert was faced with the same problem as previously, when the Headmaster had literally forced him to complete Appleby’s birching; but this time it was much worse.  He faced the problem of reconciling his conscience, which was telling him that Appleby’s arse had suffered quite enough with 18 strokes of the birch, without a further ten strokes of the senior cane. However, given his own sadistic temperament, which was mild when compared with that of the Headmaster’s, in his heart of hearts, he knew that he would enjoy thrashing Appleby’s arse – he always enjoyed wielding the cane – but he hated himself for feeling that way. But he was sufficiently aware of his own character defects to understand that that was something he would always have to live with: the desire for self gratification as opposed to doing what his conscience was telling him was the right thing to do.

At present, left to his own devices, he would have allowed Appleby to go and nurse his wounds, as he genuinely felt the the young man had suffered enough. But he knew that the dice was loaded against him and that had no option but to obey the Headmaster. He was a pawn in the hands of his superior and to cross him might jeopardise his nascent career as a school master. And so, with a heavy heart, adopting the attitude that he might as well be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb, the immediate, awful fate of Appleby’s arse was settled – albeit uncomfortably – in Cuthbert’s mind.

He now knew, looking down on Appleby’s naked buttocks, trembling there over the back of the armchair, waiting for the next onslaught to begin, that however distasteful the task before him, he would do his best to give the young man the severest caning of his life: a caning which he would never forget: a caning, which would succeed in breaking him, where the birching had failed.

Inexorably, with unrelenting mercilessness, Cuthbert brought the cane down on Appleby’s buttocks. Every cut was placed precisely as to the Headmaster’s instructions.  When, after the first two cuts Cuthbert’s attention descended onto the hypersensitive, crease area of the Appleby’s arse the young man finally let out his first cry of pain: the first verbal intimation that the flogging was finally getting through to him. By the time Cuthbert had administered the second of the four diagonal cuts Appleby was in full tears and begging Cuthbert to stop.

And then, after the final two diagonal cuts fell, it was finally over, Cuthbert looked down upon the pair of buttocks, which he had just shredded, with a mixture of distaste and pride; distaste that he had been forced to do something which he knew was vindictive: but pride at his own prowess. The Headmaster heaped praise on his young colleague, for what he exaggeratedly described as a virtuoso performance; praise indeed; but praise, partly unwanted and partly welcomed, by Cuthbert.

The one positive thing to come out of this affair was that Cuthbert’s stellar performance – in spite of his personal reservations about the Headmaster’s methods, he had given of his all with the cane – had dispelled any doubts the Headmaster might still have been harbouring as to his young colleague’s suitability for the post of Chief Disciplinarian of Stinton College.

To the Headmaster, Cuthbert was a consummate, faultless flogger: an absolute master with the rattan cane, who had taken the birch in the way a duck takes to water. The Headmaster had seen that Cuthbert, in spite of his youth, was a colleague whom he could trust to uphold the strict disciplinary ethos which ruled at Stinton and congratulated Cuthbert on his performance on Appleby’s arse, both with the birch and with the cane. He already saw Cuthbert as a colleague on whom he could completely depend; he was figuratively off Cuthbert’s back and Cuthbert sensed that he personally could again breathe easily.

Chapter 10

After ten strokes of the cane, a now contrite and totally repentant Appleby was finally allowed to cover his naked vulnerability by putting back on his gym singlet and shorts and he and Cuthbert left the Headmaster’s study together. As they walked along the corridor towards the Correction Room, Cuthbert saw with a jolt that McGuinness, whom he had totally forgotten he was scheduled also to punish, had arrived early for his painful appointment and was waiting nervously in the corridor. 

Two years younger than his obvious mentor, Christopher Appleby, , Sebastian McGuinness was a handsome, well-set-up young man and Cuthbert saw immediately why Appleby had been attracted to him. He vaguely remembered McGuinness as a first former during his final year as head-boy of Stinton; but he had never had the pleasure of addressing his arse with the cane: an omission that was now to be rectified with a vengeance. The Headmaster had already given Cuthbert more or less precise instructions as to what he saw as a suitably mild punishment to visit on the lad’s arse for his sins with Appleby.

Although the Headmaster had couched his remarks as suggestions, and had concluded that as Chief Disciplinarian Cuthbert should do as he thought fit, reading between the lines, Cuthbert knew that he had been given an order for a minimum punishment, which the Headmaster expected him to carry out to the letter. So whatever Cuthbert thought, McGuinness’s immediate fate was signed, sealed and delivered before he had even seen the lad, let alone spoken to him. Come what may, McGuinness’s arse, on the Headmaster’s instructions, was to be roasted to a turn buy giving him what the Headmaster had qualified as a mild flogging.

As they approached the waiting McGuinness, Appleby, who was later to have a highly successful career as a leading barrister and KC, made what was to be his first plea of clemency on behalf of someone convicted of a crime and awaiting sentencing by the judge: “Sir, if I might say a word in defence of McGuinness, who of course does bear some responsibility for his part in this affair, for which he knows that he is going to be punished, I think you should know that it was I, attracted physically to a younger boy, who lured him into doing what we did together. I now regret what I did, for which I have just paid a heavy and acutely painful price, as my backside is constantly reminding me. But I hope, in punishing McGuinness, you will take into account that I led him astray.”

“As you may or may not know, I am the captain of the Stinton Rugger XV and McGuinness, along with several other boys younger than him, were – and still are – are like adoring puppies, not only of me, but also of other members of the team; we become heroes for them and they are like putty in our hands and ready to do almost anything we demand of them.  As I found McGuinness physically attractive, I took advantage of the fact that I was his idol and led him astray with cigarettes and whisky, after which, half-drunk and not really knowing what he was doing, he allowed me to bugger him”

“I have myself paid a hideously painful price for my folly, for which I am truly sorry and promise you faithfully that it will never happen again. However, in view of McGuinness’s naivety and the part played by me in his downfall, I beg you not to be too hard on him.  I can tell you, as I have discussed with him what might happen to us as a result of our stupidity, that McGuinness is absolutely terrified by the thought of what is in store for him. I have already told him that we would both certainly be beaten, which is terrifying prospect for a boy who, unbelievably, has somehow managed to reach the fifth form without ever suffering even prefect’s beating. So you can understand why he is now, afraid of the unknown.”

Cuthbert was filled with a growing admiration for Appleby, who had faced up to his guilt and taken what Cuthbert himself thought had been an excessively severe punishment without demur or complaint.. And now, even in his own agony, like the true gentleman he was proving himself to be, he was pleading for his partner in crime. 

“Appleby, it is indeed very noble of you to shoulder part of the responsibility for McGuinness’s actions, for which I accept your argument that they were in part instigated by you.  But McGuinness is no longer a boy; he is 16 years old and knew what he was doing and has to learn to take responsibility for his actions. Like you, I too am amazed that a fifth form public schoolboy has managed to escape the scourge of the cane until now; but in the next few minutes he will have to face up to the mandatory punishment, which the Headmaster has charged me to deliver to  him in my role as Chief Disciplinarian of this School. I understand fully your plea for leniency on his behalf. Quite frankly, I admire you immensely for having had the courage to speak up on his behalf and shoulder some of the responsibility for his actions.”

“Although I hear your plea for leniency, the die is already cast and there is no change possible in the minimum punishment the Headmaster has decreed for him. The only thing I can do, if it eases things for him, is to allow his partner-in-crime, to wit you, to hold his hand – only figuratively, of course – whilst I flog him. That may give him a certain amount of mental solace to see that his idol has stood beside him in his hour of need. It will not, however, palliate the fact that he is to undergo, what I know from my own personal experience – I have been both birched and caned myself as a pupil in this very school – is an excruciatingly painful ordeal.  I might add, Appleby, that it is the extreme pain of a flogging, which is deterrent factor.”

The two of them had paused for a few minutes in their walk along the corridor towards an extremely nervous McGuinness. Arriving at the Correction Room door, Cuthbert opened it and waved both young men to enter. He immediately noticed that, as pre-arranged by the Headmaster, lying there on his desk were two Stinton Birches in all their pristine newness, somehow silently asserting the painfully ghastly purpose to which they would shortly be put. If McGuinness’s nervousness had been evident from the other end of the corridor, Cuthbert saw now that the lad was trembling with the fear of the unknown.

 “McGuinness, the Headmaster has delegated me to deal with you in this sad affair, in which you indulged with Appleby here. Appleby has already been soundly punished for his part in your joint escapade and as the Headmaster has filled me in with the details of the circumstances in which you were both caught in flagrante in an unspeakable act together, I see no reason for rehashing what happened between the pair of you the other evening. Consequently, I propose to put you immediately out of the mental anguish, which I see you are suffering; you will first receive twelve strokes of the birch, followed immediately by six cuts of the senior cane, both implements applied to your bare buttocks.”

If he had said to McGuinness the he was to be hanged at dawn his reaction could not have been more dramatically hysterical. In this first reaction, the lad lost any good-will he might have had with Cuthbert, who saw that, in contrast to Appleby, he was dealing here with a boy with no backbone whatsoever: a boy who could not bring himself to face up to his responsibilities. However, his pathetic pleas for mercy, which went on and on, fell on deaf ears.

Finally it was Appleby who made him calm down and see sense:  “Sebastian, get a grip on yourself and act like one of the young gentleman that we are all supposed to be. Look, I have already been flogged for my part in our misguided acts and you too have to accept that you too are to be flogged in retribution for what you and I did together. Together, we broke three of the most important rules of the School and were caught in the act. Sebastian, you have to face the fact that, like it or not, for the first time in your life you are going to be birched and then caned; just accept it; it is now totally unavoidable.”

“If you go on the way you are now doing and refuse to accept your punishment, which, frankly, both you and I deserve for what we did, word will quickly get around that you are a coward and your class-mates will shun you; your social life here at School will be over and you will have to live with the fact forever. Look, if it will make feel better and not abandoned, Mr. Divine has told me that I may stay with you whilst he thrashes you.”

Much to Cuthbert’s relief, Appleby finally succeeded in making McGuinness accept his fate. Finally it was Appleby and not Cuthbert who ushered McGuinness into the birching room and persuaded him to kneel in position on the birching block; “Come on, Sebastian, take of your shorts, and let’s go next door and will show you how you have to present your bare arse for the birch.  I’m quite an expert at it myself.”

Cuthbert was sure that it was the invocation of the word coward and all that is associated with it, for a boy who is thus branded that finally made McGuinness calm down and accept, albeit with ill-grace, his fate. As Cuthbert approached him, kneeling there, he was relieved to see that Appleby had had the good sense to put the restraining straps on McGuinness’s wrists. Looking at the boy’s soft, unblemished, white buttocks, which he was about to initiate into one of the more painful aspects of public school life, he saw why Appleby, with sex hormones coursing through his body, had been unable to resist the temptation to shaft them.

But he had more than a sneaking suspicion that lily-white and virgin as they might well have been before Appleby’s penetration, McGuinness had been complicit in his own seduction. He thought that the boy had led Appleby on as he had wanted to have sex with him. But as is quite frequently the case, the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.

McGuinness’s appallingly egregious behaviour when the day of reckoning had finally arrived, had shown Cuthbert his potential cowardice when faced with a flogging, which reinforced his suspicion that McGuinness, far from being a holy innocent led astray by a scheming older boy, whom he idolised, had encouraged and gone along Appleby’s advances. With the comforting thought in his mind, that he was about to roast a truly well-deserving arse, he dismissed from his head any scruples he had had about being forced by the Headmaster to birch and cane the boy.

He had no compunction about giving McGuinness’s naked arse a resounding introduction to the distinctly questionable joys of the birch. At the first stroke, McGuinness let out a loud scream; and as the birching proceeded, his histrionic contributions to the drama became ever more piercing.  But with the bit firmly between his teeth, Cuthbert was not to be deflected from the task at hand. After the twelfth and final stroke of the birch landed, leaving McGuinness in absolute agony, he was already sporting what was, by any standards, a well-beaten arse. 

But there was still more to come; Cuthbert, had had the intention to cane McGuinness with him bent, arse naked, across the old armchair, which he had found placed exclusively for that purpose in the Correction Room. But in view of McGuinness’s previous, obstreperously unrestrained behaviour, he decided, discretion being the better part of valour, to avoid a potentially dangerous second confrontation with him and let him stew in his own juice for some ten minutes, enjoying – if that is the word to describe someone in the painful aftermath of a sound birching – his agony, before proceeding to give him the additional six strokes of the cane.

He motioned to Appleby to follow him back to his study, closing the door of the birching room behind them as they left. McGuinness was thus left alone to contemplate his naval and to prepare himself mentally for the final onslaught on his arse with the cane, which he knew was still to come. One can but feel a little sorry for the boy, being left to suffer alone, not knowing precisely when his arse would again be in the firing line. It was a psychologically disturbing act, which was being inflicted on the boy: one conditioned by Cuthbert’s own mildly sadistic nature.  He was really turning the screw unnecessarily tight on McGuinness by subjecting him to mental as well as physical suffering.

Seated again behind his desk, he waved Appleby to a seat; Appleby, for reasons painfully apparent, preferred to remain standing: “Appleby I really want to thank you for taking McGuinness in hand just now. He really was quite hysterical.  I have to say that I was amazed to learn that he had never before today felt the kiss of the cane; although, given his unnerving performance today, I can quite see that if he threw the sort of tantrum he did just now, some masters might have backed down in the past.”

“Anyway, let me tell you that I think you are not totally responsible for what happened between you and him when the Headmaster, caught you both in what, in polite language is referred to as  a compromising situation. It is my view, that McGuinness saw you as his sporting idol, set his cap on you and encouraged you to seduce him. I do not say that you were duped by him, as having seen the boy more or less naked I can see what attracted you to him.  So I am sure you wanted to have sex with him, as I am equally sure that he encouraged you in your endeavours.”

“However, subsequent to you being discovered together, and let’s face it Appleby, you knew you were breaking three cardinal rules, he was not willing, or perhaps was not even mentally able, to face up to consequences of his actions. I regret to say, Appleby, he does not have the backbone that you have. And that is the reason why when we go back in there to complete his punishment, I have decided to give him an extra six strokes of the cane to teach him an additional lesson for having been so truculent.  Accordingly, McGuinness will learn the truth of the old aphorism: as you sow so shall you reap.” 

“Well, Appleby, I think that our friend has by now had enough time to reflect on his penance so far and must be eagerly awaiting the final act of retribution which will allow him to atone completely for his sins. Might I suggest we rejoin him and complete the rest of his initiation into the less pleasant aspects in the life of a public schoolboy?”

“Sir, if you would permit an observation, I would just like to say that your comments on how this unfortunate affair came about ring true. As you say, I was sexually attracted to McGuinness and was flattered that such an attractive looking older lad, as distinct from some snotty little first-former, was idolising me.  But I realise now, after listening to you, Sir, that he pushed himself on me as he wanted to have sex with me just as much as I wanted to have sex with him.  As you have guessed, our relationship was, mutual; it was never the classic public school story, of an older boy, forcing himself on a younger boy, with the express intention of buggering him.”

“Anyway, Sir, I have already paid a very, very painful price for my part in this affair; a price which, I agree was totally justified. So, Sir, I have no hard feelings against the Headmaster or you, Sir, for having flogged me; I completely accept that I deserved it. And, if I might add, Sir, you are really a crack with the cane. Depending on whose side you are looking at it, you are far better or far worse than the Headmaster. If you will forgive the vulgarity, Sir, giving a boy a well-beaten arse holds no secrets for you. McGuinness’s backside has a sterling experience to look forward to under your tutelage with the cane, Sir.” Did Cuthbert detect a note of enthusiasm in Appleby’s last remark?

Cuthbert and Appleby went back into the birching room, where McGuinness, as ever, restrained over the birching stool, was still sobbing. Cuthbert now indulged himself in a brutal verbal essay of hyperbole: “McGuinness, you have behaved and are still behaving very badly; for goodness sakes, boy, stop blubbering like a prep school boy aged eight and show some backbone.  What you have received so far is not the end of the world, in spite of what you are trying to make of it. It is what many boys suffer daily for their sins in public schools throughout the country.”

“What you are undergoing right now is a character-building, first experience of discipline in action, to teach you that you are answerable for your own actions and have to face the retribution, often painful, which follows them. You are not a special case; nor will you be treated as such. You have committed three grave offences and you have to accept, like the young gentleman you are supposed to be, that the punishment you are now receiving is warranted. Your backside does not yet resemble a skinned cat, although, in a few minutes, it may well do, after you have heard what I have to say to you.”

“I have, in the past few minutes, seriously reflected on your outburst on learning of the punishments, which the Headmaster had laid down as being the minimum acceptable in view of the seriousness of your multiple offences.  I was appalled by the scene you created to avoid a just punishment for your actions; it was only thanks to Appleby, your partner in crime, that you were finally able to control yourself. In that hysterical piece of theatre, which I now think was enacted entirely for my benefit, you showed not the slightest remorse for your actions and, moreover, in an attempt to save your own skin you were evidently quite prepared to allow Appleby to shoulder the entire responsibility for the whole affair, for which you knew he had already been very severely punished. In so doing, you exhibited a potentially cowardly streak in your character: a very ugly trait in any boy, but especially so in someone from your privileged background. I have, therefore, on deep reflection, decided that you should not be allowed to escape scot-free from the nauseating behaviour you exhibited when we first met, which was aimed at one thing, and one thing only: saving your own skin.”

“In addition to the six original strokes decreed by the Headmaster, you will receive an additional six gating-strokes across your naked posterior, bringing your total caning up to twelve strokes of the senior cane. It will be a painfully exhilarating introduction for you to the scourge of the rattan cane. However, looking on the bright side, you will leave this room today the proud owner what Appleby would vulgarly describe as a well-flogged arse, of which he assures me that I am a quintessential purveyor.”

“You will consequently be able to hold your head high and proud at the traditional post-beating viewing of your backside by your classmates. Even more importantly for you, you will thereby expunge forever any rumour which might be circulating that avoiding a beating might be a sign of cowardice in boy who would do anything to avoid a flogging.  As the saying goes: every cloud has a silver lining.”

In addressing McGuinness in what was a somewhat over-the-top speech, Cuthbert had, nevertheless, managed to raise the idea in the boy’s mind that his school-mates might see him as a coward: someone  who was afraid of accepting responsibility for his actions: someone who would move heaven and earth to avoid a beating. He had quite subtly sowed the idea, by mentioning the word coward, but without actually accusing McGuinness of being one.

“Appleby, I see that our friend here needs to raise his bottom somewhat higher than was the case for the birching he has just received. Be a good chap and go and fetch me a cushion from the armchairs in the other room and prop up McGuinness’s posterior for me. I would hate him to think that he was receiving other than a perfect beating on this, his first encounter with the rattan cane. As he still has three more years before him at Stinton, it would be such a pity to think that the cane and he might not establish, if not exactly a mutual friendship, then at least a working relationship with each other. If he does not mend his ways, I have a certain feeling that McGuinness’s backside and the cane will have a certain affinity for each other and over his next three years at Stinton and I would hate to be the one to spoil such a potentially enriching friendship for him by giving him a bad introduction to the cane.”

However, before commencing his attack on the lad’s bare, already well-birched arse, Cuthbert could not resist again giving McGuinness a longish verbally moralising lecture, reviewing the sins which had brought him to the present painful pass. He concluded his homilies by saying: “Well, now, I think, McGuinness that you realise that you have only yourself to thank for the painful situation in which you now find yourself.  Thanks to support from your friend Appleby, you are now in the correct position for you to get the very best out of what I am about to inflict on your posterior. As the fatal moment of truth has now arrived here is what you must now prepare yourself to face. I shall first give you six cuts parallel: two above the crown of your buttocks, followed four below in what is known as the crease area: that part of your bottom which is in contact with the seat when you are sitting down. As you have never had, until now, the misfortune, to feel the bite of the cane on your naked bottom, you may not be aware that the crease is recognised, by both flogger and those who are regularly flogged, as being that part of the buttocks most susceptible to pain. And as pain is the name of the game when it comes to beating a boy, it is not surprising that this area normally receives special attention.”

“Each stroke will be followed by a pause of fifteen to twenty seconds, to allow you to fully savour and appreciate the effect of each cut of the cane.  Then, before passing to the six diagonal, so-called gating strokes, we will take a ten minute break to allow you to luxuriate in the effect of what is know is usually known as six of the best. Only then will the final diagonal six strokes be given: three in one direction and three in the other; once again, with the all important, appreciation pause between each stroke.”

“With that your initiation into the probably misnamed joys of the birch and the cane – although I do hear that some boys and men actually do enjoy being beaten – will be complete. So, yet again, brace yourself, boy, for this is not going to be over in a few seconds. I regret to say that you are about to experience what will probably be the most painfully unpleasant few minutes of your life to date.”

Christopher Appleby, forced to listen to all this, understood immediately that Cuthbert Divine was exercising his power as master in a tit-for-tat act of revenge for the unwarranted, uncontrollable outburst McGuinness had made in his futile attempt to avoid being beaten.  He had, with some justice, already turned the verbal screw on the boy, making him wait with his arse already in agony from the birching it had just received, whilst he spouted out moralising platitudes about the importance of obeying the rules, and the penalties for not doing so.  On and on he had gone before getting to the crux of the matter, in which he had finally spelled out to the boy, in full horrific detail, what was now about to happen to him.

Appleby, putting himself in the position of his – fast-becoming erstwhile – friend, knew that he personally would have absolutely hated to have been obliged, as McGuinness just had been, to listen to such a long-winded, moralising monologue, when all he wanted was to get the whole bloody beating over and done with as soon as possible and be released to attempt to ease the throbbing pain besieging his arse.

Appleby suddenly realised that his own arse, which had been subjected to much a more severe punishment than anything that McGuinness would endure, was still hurting like bloody hell. Although  in agony himself, he had not exactly been obliged to act as a sort of accomplice to Cuthbert in dealing with McGuinness, his willing presence had been invaluable in calming down a disruptively aggressive boy and making him see that he had no alternative but to face the punishment for his offences. He also realised that the words of  the moralising sermon Cuthbert had preached to McGuinness were equally applicable to him.

And now, as a sort of perk for his assistance, he was now to have the rare experience and pleasure, of seeing a boy caned. Although he had felt the bite of the cane across his naked arse on many occasions, including the present one, of which he was still feeling the effects, he had never actually witnessed another boy being caned. In view of McGuinness’s behaviour and what had become, when push had come to shove for him, his cavalier indifference towards his friend in his frantic attempt to save his own arse, Appleby’s heart had hardened considerably towards him. Accordingly, although he was not normally addicted to indulging himself in Schadenfreude, he was quite looking forward to seeing McGuinness’s arse shredded under the cane.

Appleby’s  first surprise was when Cuthbert stood to McGuinness’s right and applied the first cut of the cane backhand. He quickly perceived the advantage of the back-hand stroke, in that it allowed the flogger to bring down the cane at lightning speed, avoiding the encumbrance of the caning arm passing in front of his body. By the time Cuthbert had placed his second stroke, McGuinness was already showing his true colours, wailing like a banshee and begging Cuthbert to stop his onslaught.

But he was wasting his breath, as Cuthbert pressed relentlessly on, laying on one painful cut after the other., By the time he had delivered the first six parallel cuts, McGuinness’s already inflamed arse was embellished with the deep welts of the cane, several of which were already oozing drops of blood where the skin had been broken. 

Appleby felt vaguely ashamed of himself, as he suddenly realised that he was enjoying immensely seeing McGuinness suffer. The first six strokes reduced McGuinness to a grovelling, begging Cuthbert to stop; showing him for what he really was: a young man who had no fortitude or backbone whatsoever under duress. Appleby was disgusted to see that his friend was, in fact, a man of straw, who now under the bite of cane was showing his true cowardly character. But seeing the welts produced by the cane, Appleby instantly comprehended that the rattan cane was capable of inflicting much greater damage than either the leather strap or the birch. By virtue of the fact that the cane’s entire power was delivered to one narrow furrow of a victim’s arse, the damage was considerable and the pain, like that of a red hot poker being placed across the subject’s bare flesh, was utterly excruciating.

Appleby, whose own arse had also just undergone a right royal roasting: belt, followed by birch, followed by cane – saw now that the belt and the birch, both extremely painful in their own right, could both  be considered as pre-conditioners for the unbelievably searing pain of the cane which followed. As Appleby watched Cuthbert deliver his final diagonal strokes, he automatically flinched and winced as the cane landed six times on McGuinness’s arse, delivering its painful message with that inimitable, resounding crack of well-seasoned rattan mating with the bare flesh of a muscular pair of buttocks.

For Cuthbert, the inflictor, it was marriage made in heaven; for McGuinness, the receiver, it was a marriage made in hell. But, at the end of the day, Appleby was sufficiently honest to admit to himself privately that he had appreciated not only watching what amounted to master-class in caning performed on on McGuinness’s arse, but had also enjoyed immensely seeing him suffer; and suffer he did, as Cuthbert, incensed by McGuinness’s behaviour, did not spare him.

Undoubtedly both McGuinness and he had each lived through the mother of all school punishments: a thorough birching, followed by a vigorous application of the rattan cane: truly a combination devised I hell and one to discourage flouting the rules ever again. Finally, Appleby was both appalled and fascinatingly aroused by the appearance of McGuinness’s buttocks: bright red from the birching crisscrossed by twelve deep cuts of the rattan cane, which were all heavily bruised and were already turning from deep red through purple into blue, with drops of blood everywhere.

It was only after he had seen the mangled state of McGuinness’s arse that it it suddenly hit him that his own backside probably looked much the same.  Both Appleby and McGuinness, originally partners in crime, so to speak were finally allowed to leave and attend to their wounded arses, both of which bore all the hallmarks of an exemplary. public school flogging. They left the Correction Room together, but immediately went their separate ways without commiserating with each other. McGuinness had tacitly understood that his behaviour had destroyed their friendship and that by his self-centred, cowardly actions trying to save his own skin, he had condemned himself to plough his own furrow in life. His rapport with Appleby, his idol, was over for good.

Chapter 11

Cuthbert had had a truly exceptional initiation into his duties as Chief Disciplinarian. He had participated vigorously in the Headmaster’s exemplary beating of Appleby and had been handed McGuinness on a plate to punish. Although he had not much appreciated the Headmaster’s impromptu way of inveigling him into participating actively in both the birching and caning of Appleby, he had to admit to himself that he had enjoyed his part in shredding the young man’s arse; the element of Schadenfreude, always surfaced whenever he inflicted pain on a boy’s arse.

However, whatever the circumstances, whenever he addressed a boy’s arse with the cane,  given the sadistic pleasure he always experienced when inflicting pain on the recipient, he always felt better if there was a sound justification for the pain he was inflicting on the recipient. Cuthbert had, in fact, a conscience, which, throughout his 45 year career as a schoolmaster, during which he thrashed literally thousands of boys’ naked arses, would save him from the worst excesses, which a man in his authoritarian position could wreak on his charges. But although Appleby and McGuinness had undergone, what by any measure, had to be considered very severe punishments, Cuthbert at was at peace with himself, as he felt that both boys had deserved what they had received; and quite objectively, they had!

The most positive thing to come out of what had begun as a Master Class in birching by the Headmaster was that Cuthbert had emerged as a fully fledged, totally competent flogger in the Headmaster’s eye, which as far as he was concerned was the only eye which mattered. But now with the approval of the Headmaster, who would not be breathing down his neck at every turn, he felt confident in his new post. As Cuthbert had been a loner all his life, what his colleagues thought of him was a matter of utter indifference to him.

In the two weeks following beating of Appleby and McGuinness, in his role of Chief Disciplinarian, Cuthbert acquainted himself with the backsides of a number of boys of all ages, whose naked arses needed his professional attention with the cane. His colleagues, although deprived of the right to beat arse themselves, were not shy when it came to dishing out punishment-notes.  In a school of 480 boys, there was hardly a day went by when some unfortunate lad did not find his arse being roasted by either the Headmaster or the Chief Disciplinarian

Never one to hold back when it came to using the cane on a deserving pair of buttocks Cuthbert quickly established a reputation among the boys of being stricter even than the Headmaster himself. By the end of the first week he had already earned himself the enviable reputation, of being someone to be avoided like the plague   What the Headmaster had done was to split the daily punishment-note contingent between himself and Cuthbert.

On Friday morning of only his second week in office, Cuthbert was surprised to receive and invitation to dine with the Headmaster that very evening.  As a life-long bachelor, the Headmaster, in his secondary function as Housemaster of School House, lived in the Housemaster’s quarters in the wing of the original buildings where School House was still located.

He lived in great splendour in the Housemaster’s accommodation which consisted of a spacious apartment in addition to the Housemaster’s dreaded study where traditional discipline was regularly dispensed. Stinton was a well endowed school and the Headmaster deprived himself of none of the outward signs of a man, whose position allows him to do himself proud.  Thus Cuthbert found himself greeted by the trappings of wealth as he was shown into the Housemaster’s sitting room by a formally clad butler, where the Headmaster received him in front of a blazing log fire. To Cuthbert’s surprise, the Headmaster proved also to be a bon vivant and did not stint on the pre-prandial drinks or on the wine he served with the dinner.

As the conversation so far had been of a general nature, Cuthbert began to ask himself why he had been invited to dine with the Headmaster. Now, however, sitting again in front of the fire, each of them with a post-prandial glass of port in his hand and the decanter sitting invitingly on a small table between them, in the habitually portentous way, with which he imbued all conversations with a usually undeserved sense of gravity, the Headmaster came, to the true purpose of the meeting.

“Divine, I am telling you this in strictest confidence as I do not wish to start a rumour that I am on death’s door, which I most certainly am not. However, my doctor has told me quite firmly – indeed has given me an order, in as much as he has any authority, to dictate my way of life to me, which he most certainly does not – that if I wish to avoid a heart attack, I have to reduce the physical side of my activities and adopt a more passive profile in my duties as Headmaster and Mentor of this School.”

“I have observed you during the last two weeks and have been impressed by the exemplary way in which you have discharged the more unpleasant side of your duties as a schoolmaster: those associated with your role a Chief Disciplinarian. And so, my dear Divine, I have no hesitation in asking you to take on the entire daily punishment load arising from our colleagues’ numerous punishment notes.  I shall keep my hand in– I think that is the expression – with the cane if not with the birch, as I feel able to continue with the disciplinary duties essential to the smooth running of School House, of which I am, by tradition, de facto Housemaster.”

So there, ponderously expressed, the Headmaster had quite unintentionally made Cuthbert the happiest young man in the world at that precise moment. Cuthbert wondered why the Headmaster referred to the task of beating the boys as unpleasant. He personally always enjoyed thrashing boys, which was the reason why he had chosen school teaching as a profession. And, given the enthusiasm that the Headmaster he had shown for punishing Appleby and McGuinness just two weeks ago, he he suspected that he too derived a great deal of personal satisfaction from beating boys’ naked bottoms. His suspicions were confirmed by the fact that, in spite of his doctor’s warnings, the Headmaster had nevertheless decided that he was fit enough not to deprive the boys of School House of his formidable flagellative expertise with the cane.

As rumour had it, School House was the one house where not a day passed without some boy being awarded that public school hallmark for disobedience: the well-beaten arse. But whether or not the Headmaster enjoyed flogging his pupils or not, Cuthbert knew that he himself did. He was thus ecstatic when he thought of what the Headmaster’s decision meant for him personally. Here he was, a young new master at a prestigious public school, in charge of wielding the cane and the birch on behalf of the entire teaching staff, many of whom would be extremely jealous of the powerful accolade which had been accorded to a recently appointed junior master.

Chapter 12

Cuthbert’s reign of, I was about to say terror, but that would be unfair to him. The Headmaster announced to the rest of the staff that henceforth Cuthbert, the School’s Chief Disciplinarian would be the person dealing with all punishment notes. The fact that Cuthbert had been recruited nominally to teach Greek and Latin, but also specifically to deal with offending boys,  had already ruffled quite a few feathers among the staff, who resented a young new-comer, and interloper, being given powers which were denied to them. The announcement that he was to be elevated still further to Executive Administrant of all punishment notes, made many of the staff reach for their dictionaries, as the word administrant  was not exactly one in common use.

But as the Headmaster explained to them, in a belated attempt to pour oil on troubled waters, he himself was retiring from the physically exhausting daily task of beating boys with punishment notes and handing whole task over to the younger newly appointed Chief Disciplinarian. So what the title meant was that Cuthbert would be the sole person to be allowed to reward the boys bearing punishment notes by warming their arses with the birch or the cane; or, as became increasingly the case, with the agonisingly painful double-whammy: the birch followed by the cane.

Cuthbert had never been less than generous when he dispensed justice at Stinton and no boy ever left his study with less than a well-beaten arse. Very rapidly, the boys came to realise that visits to the Correction Room under Mr. Divine, were much more painful than the visits to the Headmaster’s study had been in what rapidly became known among the boys as the good old days.

The Headmaster had given a completely free hand to Cuthbert to decide on the appropriate punishment for any offence. Therefore, given his own sadistic tendencies and the pleasure he experienced whenever he beat a boy’s naked arse, coupled with his profound belief that if a boy deserved to be beaten, then the beating should be painful, no boy ever left the Correction Room other than in excruciating agony: a testimony to Cuthbert’s expertise in the art of flagellation: the act, which no matter how often repeated, never failed to arouse Cuthbert. For him, beating a boy’s arse was the toy which never failed to please.

The act of beating a boy’s bare bottom was, for Cuthbert, the sole outlet for his own, totally repressed, homosexual tendencies. After his last victim of the day had left to tend to his wounded arse and show the result of the latest example of Cuthbert’s expertise to his schoolmates, Cuthbert would lock the door of the Correction Room and would then wank himself to orgasm, which was the sole and unique outlet for his libido during his entire life. Jumping ahead in the story, when Cuthbert died, almost 60 years later, at the age of 89, he was as pure a sexual virgin as the day he was born; he had never had sex with either a man or a woman.

Cuthbert Divine found in his role of Executive Administrant that he was never short of an arse to beat, which was not surprising; Stinton had a complement of 480 boys split across six houses; thus, there was more or less a constant daily flow of miscreants requiring Cuthbert’s unique services. They lined up outside the Correction Room at the fatidic hour of 4:30 each day, waiting to be called in. Cuthbert normally dealt with the boys one by one and it was not until they were standing in front of Cuthbert, The Lord High Executioner himself, that they learned whether their backsides were to be birched or caned – known by the boys as Divine Intervention – or subjected to the double whammy of the birch followed by the cane, which was known as Divine Retribution.

Cuthbert had never adopted the Headmaster’s pre-birching conditioning step with the strap, preferring to let the birch transmit the first painful message of many directly onto the victim’s virgin bare buttocks. Virgin, you will understand, was a term used here in the context of the present onslaught and did not imply that this was the first beating ever of the arse in question. Precisely what the boys would have called a three step beating:  strap – birch – cane, was open to conjecture. Suffice it to say, that Cuthbert’s ministrations with the cane and the birch, quickly earned him the sobriquet of the Divine Bastard.  With one month of his assumption of duties as supreme flagellator; he was both more feared and hated by the boys than the Headmaster had ever been.  Cuthbert, who gave not two hoots for popularity, viewed his reputation as an accolade to his success.

And so for the next year or so, Cuthbert ploughed his own furrow, teaching his flock Greek and Latin and whacking the boys when they misbehaved – as they often did.  In his free time, he worked on his doctoral thesis, an apparently never-ending task which he had begun soon after graduating for Oxford. The subject was mind-bendingly boring and of little interest academically: The influence of the minor Greek poet Callinus, circa 650 BC, on Roman poetry of the golden age, circa 70BC to 20 AD. However, boring or not, when it was finally submitted, it earned Cuthbert a doctorate in philosophy from Oxford University; So the hugely unpopular Mr. Divine became the hugely unpopular Dr. Divine MA, DPhil, much to the envy of his fellow teachers. The fact that he alone among the teaching staff was addressed as Dr. Divine set him yet further apart from his colleagues.

One incident in Cuthbert’s early flagellation career at Stinton is worth recounting. It was a day when only two boys presented themselves with their punishment notes at 4:30 pm at the Correction Room, which had already become known as Mr. Divine’s study. When he opened the door, Cuthbert suffered a momentary shock, forcing him to do a double take. One of the two boys standing there was none other than his own younger brother Eustace.  

Cuthbert had completely forgotten that his brother, younger by seven years, had been at Stinton Grange prep school when he himself had been head-boy at Stinton College. It was only after Cuthbert had left and gone to Oxford, that Eustace had entered the first form at Stinton College. Thus, the two brothers had never been at the College together until now. Eustace was now in the fourth form and his brother, Cuthbert, was a master at the School.

From what we have already learned about Cuthbert’s character, the reader will not be surprised to hear that two brothers had never got on well together; when they had been at home. Cuthbert found Eustace irritated him, probably due to the age difference between them. But the fact of the fact of the matter was that they had never truly got to know one another as brothers. When Eustace was but one year old, Cuthbert, then aged eight, had been shipped off to Stinton Grange prep school as a boarder. Consequently, the two boys had been together only during the school holidays.

Additionally their age difference had meant that although they were both educated at Stinton Grange and Stinton College, they had never been together as brothers in the same school at the same time. Hence, not surprisingly the normal feeling of brotherly love had never developed between them; Cuthbert was irritated by Eustace, who thought his brother was a cold fish, which, quite frankly he was.

But the surprise he had had on seeing his brother, was made even greater when he looked at the name on the punishment note of the second boy to find that his name was Appleby. He saw at a glance that the two punishment notes had been issued together by the same master, the elderly Mr. Edgar Fletcher, – who taught chemistry. The two boys, Divine and Appleby had apparently been colluding in a forbidden experiment for which Fletcher, a teacher of the old school – with all the no-nonsense that implied – was demanding their blood.

Cuthbert looked at the two boys standing there in the corridor and decided that he had better see them both together; so, into his study they trooped. Cuthbert installed himself pontifically behind his desk and gazed bleakly at the boys. The two 16 year old fourth formers, young men almost, stood nervously in front of him, waiting to hear their fate. If Eustace Divine had expected any quarter from his older brother any faint hope he might have had leniency was dashed to the ground as soon as he opened his mouth and said: “Cuthbert, I just ….”

Cuthber , in his iciest voice, stopped him dead in his tracks, before he Eustace could utter another word: “Divine, although you and I are brothers, in this School, our close family relationship to each other does not exist. Our relationship will henceforth be that of any master and pupil. You will, as of right now, no longer address me as Cuthbert, but as Mr. Divine and add the honorific, Sir, when you address me, as you do with any other master. I will address you as I do all other boys, by your surname, which happens to be the same as mine, but confers no social privileges on you as a pupil of Stinton College, where you are, in the eyes of all the masters, including me, just another pupil. I trust I have made myself clear, Divine.”

Eustace now made a fatal mistake; he misjudged his brother totally, as he flippantly said: “Well, Cuthbert, if that is how you see it, then so be it. But I don’t see how we can pretend that you and I have the same relationship as other masters, you included, have with their pupils. Come on Cuthbert, however, however you dress it up, at the end of the day we are brothers and that automatically makes our relationship different to the one you have, for example, with my friend Appleby here. Frankly, Cuthbert, I don’t see myself ever being beaten by you, my own brother. Appleby’s brother has told us what the Headmaster and you did to him and you are not going to do the same to me.  I have no intention of ever letting you, my brother, anywhere near my bare bum with your cane.”

If ever a figurative red rag had been waved in front of a figuratively irate bull, it was what Eustace had just done. In doubting his brother’s resolve he had just seriously cooked his own goose. “Divine, I thought I just told you that you no longer should address me as Cuthbert, as our family relationship has been suspended whilst you are at this School and I am one of your masters. In spite of what I had said to you, you chose to use my Christian name three times in your comments; and I might add that they were made with a tone of disdain in your voice, as if you thought that you, a pupil, could dictate your terms to me, not only a master of this school, but the very person who is responsible for administering discipline to boys like you, who break the rules.”

“You, Divine, will shortly be forced to eat your own impudent and arrogant words as you learn that you are in no position to tell me what I can and cannot do to you. You, Master Divine will shortly have the exhilarating first-hand opportunity to see that what Appleby’s brother has told you about the capabilities of Mr. Divine, the Chief Disciplinarian of this school, are all perfectly true. By the time I have finished with you, boy, you will, leave this room with a bum, as you so casually refer to your bottom, which is so painful that you will be unable to sit down comfortably for a full week.  Divine, you need to learn lesson, which I shall shortly have great pleasure in teaching you; no schoolboy tells a master what he can and cannot do; and that applies to you, even though we are brothers.”

Not surprisingly, Appleby was looking more and more nervous at this acerbic interchange between the two brothers. In fact, Eustace Divine, had convinced his partner in crime, Appleby, that he could swing things with his brother, the Chief Disciplinarian, and save them both from the cane. However, he could not have been more wrong.  Appleby had already understood that his friend’s intervention, far from avoiding the roasting to which their respective arses would shortly be subjected, had poured oil onto the fire and had made matters considerably worse. So wishing to avoid even greater pain than a normal Correction Room portended, Appleby ate humble pie and tried to distance himself from the damage his soon to be erstwhile friend and accomplice had brought on himself by his truculent exchange with his all-powerful, cane-wielding brother. 

What Appleby had already understood is that schoolboys could never win against a master, unless the master voluntarily threw in the sponge and allowed them to do so, which had not been the case. So Appleby saw that as Eustace Divine’s plan had gone awry, come what may, they were both to be beaten. Appleby’s brother, who had regaled them in lurid detail of what his own bare arse had endured at the joint hands of the Headmaster and the Chief Disciplinarian, in front of whom they were now standing, had put the fear of God into Appleby and made him hyper-nervous. He wished all costs to avoid the worst; in particular, he did not wish his partner’s belligerence to wash off onto him, bringing with it an increased punishment. So Appleby, seeing that saving his friend from the worst was a lost cause, intent now only on saving his own skin, very sensibly decided on an emollient, damage-reducing approach in the ensuing conversation with Cuthbert.

Cuthbert now turned his attention to Appleby, whom he quite rightly saw as being totally dissociated from his brother’s confrontationally aggressive remarks. He said: “I take it that you, young man, are Appleby Minor, younger brother of Appleby Major, whom I have had already had the pleasure of meeting. I regret to say that I met your brother on an occasion not dissimilar to the present and that the pleasure – if one can call it that – was as all mine; as, unfortunately will probably be the case today.”

It was not at all unusual for two brothers to be enrolled at the same time in a public school and the designations Major and Minor were the typical public school appendages as a means of differentiating them in conversation. However, as will be seen later in this story, Stinton’s relationship with the Appleby clan was to extend to the rather unusual circumstance of three Appleby brothers being present

together at Stinton, giving rise to the appellations, Major, Minor and – to the disgust of the youngest brother – Minimus. But that is for later; now there were just the two brothers: Christopher and Andrew

“Yes, Sir; you are quite right, Sir; I am Christopher Appleby’s younger brother Andrew. I am officially known as Appleby Minor, and my brother is officially Appleby Major; but he is universally known both to masters and boys just as Appleby. As my brother is older than I, we do not share any classes together. Therefore, Sir, I am usually also called just Appleby.”

Until now, Cuthbert had been unaware that Christopher Appleby had a brother, Andrew, who was also a pupil at the School. As head-boy, Cuthbert had thrashed Christopher several times. But as Andrew had arrived in the first form the same year as Cuthbert had left to go to Oxford, their paths had not crossed until now. Andrew was now aged 16 and entering his fourth year at Stinton.

“Well, thank you Appleby for that explanation. But let us turn to the offence that you and your partner in crime, Divine, committed together, for which Mr. Fletcher, your chemistry, has as issued punishment notes calling for a severe beatings for you both. Perhaps you might care to enlighten me as to what you did to raise such wrath in Mr. Fletcher. You have seen the two punishment notes, which call for a minimum of twelve strokes of the cane for each of you.”  

What neither of the two lads knew, but what they would shortly find out, was that Cuthbert was an absolute expert when it came to delivering pain with the cane. It was a matter of professional pride to him to ensure that no boy ever left his study without that temporary hallmark of public school discipline: the well-beaten and well-striped arse. As a standard, run-of-the-mill tariff, he had immediately replaced the traditional standard six of the best by twelve of the best, no matter what the punishment note recommended; and that was for starters, as he was not limited by school regulations to twelve cuts.   

Words had painful consequences in Cuthbert’s book, as Eustace Divine was soon to find out, when he suffered retribution for having unwisely given his brother some lip, by playing on fraternal feelings in his vain attempt to avoid any punishment. But even when restraining himself to twelve strokes, Cuthbert had a number of variants, each increasingly disagreeable for the hapless recipient.

The most moderate option – if twelve cuts of the cane across a bare arse can ever be  considered as moderate – which was nonetheless very painful, was the straight, parallel twelve; each stroke of the cane was applied to give the recipient in twelve parallel stripes, running from the bottom of his back to the top of his thighs. But with twelve strokes there were several other ways to skin a cat, all of which increased the level of pain for the unfortunate boy.  By overlaying one stroke exactly on the preceding one, the pain level was considerably increased.

The reader can imagine for himself how diabolical the pain must have been for the recipient, after a twelve stroke beating, consisting of three overlaid strokes applied successively to four different positions on his naked arse.  Yet, that is what Cuthbert often visited upon the naked buttocks of boys sent to him for punishment. As chief Disciplinarian of Stinton College, Cuthbert subscribed wholeheartedly to the school of thought, whose motto was: pain is the name of the game, as Appleby Minor and Eustace Divine were about find out to their cost.

Although the reason why any boy had been sent to him for punishment, mattered not one whit to Cuthbert, who was thankful for any excuse, however feeble, to beat a boy’s arse, he nevertheless always felt duty-bound to enquire into the reasons behind each punishment note. “So tell me, boys, what exactly did you do in the practical chemistry class to outrage Mr. Fletcher to such an extent that he has sent you to me for a sound beating?”   

It was Appleby who answered: “Well, sir, Eustace – I mean Divine – and I are usually partners for experimental work in the chemical laboratory. (Incidentally, chemistry was known as Stinks at the time the events of this story were taking place.) All we did, Sir, was to make some rotten egg-gas (sulphuretted hydrogen) in a test-tube. The experiment was so successful that not only the laboratory stank so strongly of rotten eggs that the room itself had to be abandoned by the entire class. The smell spread into to the corridor and other classrooms which were also in use, Sir, so all the windows had to be opened to clear the smell from the air, Sir. Sir, what we did, making a stink-bomb, was only intended as a joke….”

Here Cuthbert interrupted Appleby: “Only intended as a joke, you say; but a joke which went horribly wrong, leading as it did to the abandoning of the practical chemistry lesson for the entire class and the disruption of several other lessons in neighbouring classrooms, not to mention the horrible smell which permeated general atmosphere. I can well see why Mr. Fletcher wants you punished; and not only punished but, with some justification, punished severely; I have to say, that I agree with him. You two boys – almost young men as you are – should have known better than to embark on some harebrained chemical experiment. You might have caused an explosion. You both deserve to suffer the most severely painful retribution for your acts.”

The moment of truth had finally arrived and the boys suddenly saw that the time for talking was now over. Their pipe-dream that they might still escape to live another day with their arses intact was just another piece of wishful thinking. Cuthbert went across and opened his cane cupboard and selected a long, flexible, straight-handled senior cane, which he swished menacingly through the air in front of the two boys, indicating that the fatidic moment had finally arrived. He gave the two boys an order to remove their shorts:  “I will deal with you first, Appleby Minor; meanwhile, you, Divine, will go and stand with your hands on your head and your nose against that wall over there, from which position you will not move until I tell you to do so.”

“Appleby Minor, kindly go and bend over the back of the armchair in the middle of the room; place your hands on the arms of the chair and hold your bottom high so that the dog can see the rabbit. You will not move from that position and keep perfectly still whilst I am caning you. Also, you will not allow your hands to stray from the arms of the chair towards your bottom,, otherwise I shall give you extra strokes for disobedience. I propose to be very lenient with you, Appleby. You will receive only the standard tariff of twelve cuts of the senior cane, all of which will be applied parallel with no doublings.  When I give you permission to rise, you will join your partner in crime, the wretched Divine, with your hands on your head your nose against the wall, where you will remain until I tell you otherwise. Until I give you permission to do so, there will be no massaging of your bottom to try to ease the pain you will doubtless be feeling by that stage in the proceedings.”

Cuthbert had addressed his words to Appleby with his back turned towards Eustace Divine.  When he turned around he found, to his surprise that this brother had not moved from the spot when he had been standing. “Divine, what exactly did you not understand about the instructions I just gave you?  Move yourself, boy; do as I told you, unless you wish to find yourself in even deeper trouble than you already are.”

Eustace Divine, in spite of being in a hole, decided to dig himself in still deeper: Despite Cuthbert’s warning about the formality of their present relationship being one of master and pupil, he still persisted on addressing his brother as Cuthbert: “Look here, Cuthbert, just because of your position, you cannot expect me….”

He was cut short by Cuthbert: “Divine, it is precisely because of our relative positions, which, as I have just made very clear to you is that of master and pupil and not that of two brothers, that allows me to order you to do what I wish and for you, boy, to do it. It is not for you, in your role of a disobedient and obnoxious pupil, who still does not know his place in this School, a role, which I have to say, you play admirably, to question me about clear instructions I have just given you.  And you already seem to have forgotten that when you speak to me you are not addressing your brother, Cuthbert, but Mr. Divine, the Chief Disciplinarian of this School, who in a few minutes will give you the additional thrashing you deserve for your insolence, not to mention your disastrous illicit experiments in the chemical laboratory.”

“You Divine are still sowing seeds of a bitter harvest which you will shortly reap; and I can tell you it will not be riches in heaven. Now, boy, I am telling you one last time to get your shorts off, put your hands on your head and stand over there with your nose against the wall. You are holding things up and Appleby Minor has been eagerly waiting quite long enough for his bottom to be thrashed; so it would be rude to disappoint him by keeping him waiting any longer.” Eustace finally understood that he had lost the verbal battle with Cuthbert and finally did as he had been told.

Appleby Minor, listening to this interchange decided that he would do well to remain silent, obey Mr. Divine and accept his lenient punishment of twelve parallel strokes, before the increasingly irate Chief Disciplinarian changed his mind and abandoned leniency in favour of something unimaginably worse.  He dwelled on Cuthbert concept of leniency to describe what he was about to inflict on his arse. If twelve parallel strokes of the senior cane delivered on the bare arse were considered as being lenient, what the hell constituted a severe punishment?  He shuddered to think; but sensed he was about to find out, when the irate, cane-wielding master addressed his brother’s arse.

But for the moment, he thought only of the state in which his own backside would be left after the lenient onslaught of twelve strokes of the senior cane. As Cuthbert, believing mistakenly, as later events were to show, to have verbally settled his brother’s hash once and for all, turned back towards Appleby, he noted with some degree of satisfaction that the lad had done exactly as he had been ordered to do and was waiting patiently, if not exactly eagerly, bent over the back of the armchair, his naked buttocks held high for the assault with the cane to begi. Although he was about thrash Appleby, for his misdeeds, Cuthbert could not help help but admire the lad for the way in which he conducted himself at such a extremely stressful, unpleasant moment in his life.

As he prepared himself to deliver his first stroke, he experienced, as ever, that first wave of satisfaction, which always preceded the first stroke of any beating, surge through his body. That faithful indicator of sexual arousal between his legs was already rising to the occasion in anticipation of the pleasure which it would experience later at the hand of its five-fingered lover. However, Cuthbert brushed aside his own feelings of personal sexual desire, knowing that he had the two lads to deal with, before he could allow himself to relax behind a locked door and indulge in a post-beating bout of solitary masturbation: the only physical pleasure of his own inhibited sex life.

Had anyone been observing Cuthbert flogging Appleby, he would have been left in no doubt but that he was watching an expert with the cane at work.  Cuthbert had already mastered the Headmaster’s backhand hand stroke to perfection. As each precisely placed stroke followed its predecessor, always with that all-important, appreciation interval of fifteen seconds between them – an excruciatingly painful wait for Appleby, his arse, originally a blank canvas, gradually took on the appearance of an abstract painting in the course of execution.

Each stroke left its raised-edge furrow, occasionally flecked with a blood where the skin had been broken. Thanks to the long pauses between strokes, the original crimson stripes, which immediately developed following each stroke, had already started to turn blue-black as the beating continued. By the time Cuthbert had finished with Appleby, his arse, hideously painful to him, was a minor, artistic masterpiece of flagellative art at its best. It is, however, doubtful if poor Appleby appreciated the albeit, temporary, artistic masterpiece of twelve, well-defined stripes which was, quite literally, etched into his arse. As he stood up, his face stained with the tears, which he had not been able to stem in spite of his stiff upper lip and his resolve to accept the punishment, which he knew he deserved,  all he wanted to do was to go and sooth his throbbing arse, by massaging its corrugations under running cold water in the lavatory.

If any boy had ever learned his lesson from a beating, it was Appleby Minor at that very moment. But he was condemned to stand, in the hands-on-head- nose-to-wall position, forbidden even to touch his burning buns, whilst Mr. Divine move on to deal with his partner in crime.  It was a slight consolation to Appleby that he would eventually hear the cane cracking down on Eustace’s bare arse, in much the same way as Eustace had listened to him being beaten. Standing there in agony, Appleby swore to himself that never again would he allow Eustace Divine to inveigle him into one of his fool-hardy, asinine schemes, most of which tended to end in a disaster; although not usually one of such painfully epic proportions of the one they were now experiencing.

While listening to Appleby being flogged, Eustace Divinr had been mentally terrified at thought that his own arse would shortly be subject to the same, slow, systematic, painful onslaught with the cane. Whatever Eustace thought of his elder brother, he recognised that Cuthbert was an expert with the cane and that his own buttocks would not be spared.  As Appleby took his place by Eustace’s side against the wall, Eustace glanced sideways and shuddered when he saw the state of Appleby’s arse. He had by now understood that it was not for him even to think of taking any initiative; so he waited for what he presumed was the inevitable the order to come from Cuthbert to take his place over the dreaded armchair.  However, Cuthbert had meanwhile resumed his pontifical seat behind his desk and was busy entering the details of Appleby’s caning into the school’s official punishment register.

He also reached for another, leather-bound tome, which he had purchased specially for his own use: in it he systematically entered the name of every boy whom he flogged throughout his long career at Stinton. When he  retired after a career at Stinton College from 1900 to 1948, this book was left to the School, where it remains to this day in the archives as a unique, chronological record of every boy whom Cuthbert Divine flogged during his almost 50 year career.

Cuthbert had left both Andrew Appleby and Eustace Divine standing there, noses against the wall: the one in physical agony at what his arse had just lived through; the other in the mental torment of not knowing exactly what was about to happen to him.  Cuthbert finally completed his clerical work and, still sitting at his desk, he finally ordered Eustace to come and stand in front of him.  By this time, Eustace tortured by being left to stew in his own juice, had been punished mentally beyond the limits of endurance; come what may, he now heartily wished to get the whole painful business over and done with as soon as possible.  It had been absolute mental torture to be left standing there in that preposterous position, listening to the sound of the cane mating with his accomplice’s naked buttocks, whilst still not knowing his own fate. All that was now to be resolved, in a manner which left poor Eustace totally shocked to hear what was now about to receive.

“Divine, take off your singlet and put your hands back on your head, whilst I tell you what I have, after a great deal of thought, decided would be an appropriate punishment for you.” Eustace promptly protested that if he removed his singlet and placed his hands on his head, he would be standing there totally naked in full frontal exposure in front of his master. Cuthbert observed sarcastically: “Divine, you seem to have an aptitude for stating the obvious.  Now before I get extremely cross, do as I have put told you; take off your gym singlet and put your hands on your head and stand in front of me.” 

Eustace, to his credit, had finally learned something from the earlier altercation he had had with his brother and master and now understood that, as a pupil, he would always be in the losing position  in any argument. Totally embarrassed, he was forced to stand there stark naked, sporting a huge erection which he could do nothing to hide, whilst he waited to hear his fate. When it came, it was much, much worse than he could ever have imagined.

Cuthbert, in a sepulchral voice, worthy of a judge sentencing someone to hang, intoned his sentence: “Divine, you have to learn that words do have consequences. Your manner towards me at the outset was, to say the very least, rude, dictatorial, truculent and recalcitrant, in retribution for which, I first propose to teach you a painfully serious lesson. For your bad manners towards me, your superior, to whom you were quite justifiably sent by Mr. Fletcher for your disastrous misdeeds in the chemical laboratory, I propose first to birch you. I think you will find it is an invigoratingly painful experience, one, which if you are wise, you will never wish to repeat. After that, you will, as did Appleby, receive twelve strokes of the senior cane across your freshly birched buttocks, in penance for your misguided and unauthorised chemical experiments.”  

What Cuthbert had not told Eustace was the exact number of strokes of the birch he was to receive and the fact that he then intended to apply the cane to his arse in four groups of three strokes each, applied on top of each other to four different positions on his buttocks. It goes without saying that Cuthbert, bent on inflicting maximum pain on his brother, foresaw himself placing two of these four in the hypersensitive crease area, thereby ensuring that Eustace would be unable to sit down comfortably for the best part of a week. Brotherly love was, at that moment, totally absent. In fact brotherly between the two Divines, never more than lukewarm at the best, was now about to be killed off forever.

Cuthbert stood up from his desk and told Eustace to go into the room next door, where the new birching block had been installed. Hitherto used only to birch McGuinness, Eustace would have the doubtful honour of being only the second boy to kneel at the block and present his naked bottom to the scourge of the Stinton-Birch, which already enjoyed a fearsome reputation, thanks to its regular use by the enthusiastic and inveterate flogger, the Headmaster. To be subjected to the Stinton-Birch, in view of its special maple twigs, was  rumoured among the boys, to be a fate worse than death.  In a few moments, Eustace would have the opportunity to test the veracity of that unlikely and unverifiable statement, which was based purely on speculative conjecture.

But the moment he entered the room and saw the altar at which he was to kneel and sacrifice his naked arse to the scourge of the rod, he broke down in tears, showing himself, yet again, for what he truly was: a young man without backbone: not at all the characteristic stiff upper-lip of an aspiring young gentleman, which all public school boys were supposed to show in adversity. Cuthbert was disgusted when he saw the craven nature of his brother, compared with the dignity of Appleby’s composure as he had bent himself across the armchair to be caned. Far from sympathising with his brother, he found his heart hardening towards him.

“For goodness sakes, Divine, get a grip on yourself; this is the moment when push as has come to shove and you have to accept the comeuppance for your behaviour, which you know is well merited. Now, boy, for goodness’ sakes, stop blubbering like an eight-year old prep school boy about to have his first swishing and try to behave with some semblance of dignity like a young gentleman. Kneel down at the block immediately and present your bottom to me for punishment, unless you wish to receive additional strokes of the birch over and above twelve to which you deserve.”

Eustace eventually saw that discretion was the better part of valour, so to save himself from even worse depredations from the infamous Stinton-Birch, he finally knelt at the block. Cuthbert, by way of assurance that his victim would remain that way whilst his arse was being roasted, strapped down Eustace’s hands, as he saw that the boy was too emotional and might lose what little self-control he had if left unrestrained..

Usually most public school boys about to be birched would have considered it an assault on their self-respect to be strapped down to receive their punishment; it was a point of honour with most of them to acquiesce with dignity to what they knew was inevitable, even if it was was not their due. However, this was not the case with Eustace, who by his actions and words had shown himself ready to do almost anything to save his own skin. But although he had finally acquiesced and was ready to be birched, he had still not managed to stop sobbing.

As Cuthbert delivered the first cut of the birch, which in its Stinton version, thanks to its constitution of specially-treated, switch-like maple twigs, was excruciatingly painful from the very first stroke, Eustace let out a howl of pain, which was repeated as each stroke of the birch landed on his naked buttocks. Within three strokes, thanks to the spread of the twigs on impact, Cuthbert had completely covered Eustace’s entire arse; not one square inch remained untouched by the birch. From then on, with nine strokes still to come, every inch of Eustace’s bare flesh felt three times the biting pain of the specially prepared maple twigs.

By the time Cuthbert had delivered his final stroke, Eustace had been made fully aware that the rumours about the horrors of the pain delivered by the Stinton-Birch were based on fact and were well justified. In a flood of tears, he was finally released and stood up in absolute agony from the flogging he had just received.  Like most public school boys of his age, he had been caned a few times by a prefect or his Housemaster. But such beatings faded into insignificance when compared with what he had just received from Cuthbert Divine, who had not held back at all on the beating to which he had just subjected his insolent and cowardly brother.

Cuthbert could not resist saying to his brother, “Well, Divine, as I told you, words do have consequences, as you have now experienced to your cost. I hope you have learned at least that one lesson and will in future, button-up your lip when you address me or any other master.  Now, I suggest we move back next door, where you will have the instructive pleasure of being able to compare the bite of the rattan cane with that of the birch: an opportunity offered to very few; you should feel highly honoured to be accorded such a privilege.”

Eustace, in his agony, made worse by his nakedness, had momentarily forgotten that the birching was in payment for his rudeness and that he still had the account to settle for his part in the chemical laboratory fiasco, which was the reason why Appleby Minor and he were there in the first place. This was made vividly real as Cuthbert ordered him to bend across the back of the armchair. Eustace, figuratively grovelling on his knees, pleaded for mercy: “Sir, I don’t think I can take any more after what you have just done to me with the birch, Sir; please, Sir, I beseech you not to beat me; I have learned my lesson, Sir; truly I have, Sir; my bottom is just so sore Sir, that it will not withstand another beating, Sir.”

Cuthbert, for whom, as we already know, beating a boy’s backside was akin to giving himself a life-giving blood-transfusion, not surprisingly remained totally unmoved by his brother’s pleading. Looking bleakly at him he said stonily: “Divine, whilst it is gratifying to learn that the birching I have just given you has taught you a lesson, that lesson was one designed to teach you to have respect in your mode of address to your masters, including me.  I would remind you that you have still the unrelated disastrous incident in the chemistry laboratory to answer for, for which you surely are aware you must face retribution, as Appleby Minor has already done.”

“As for the state painful state of your bottom, I will be the best judge of whether or not it is in a fit state to be caned right now. The pain you are experiencing is quite normal after a twelve cut birching, which, in this School is frequently (not an exaggeration but a statement of fact) followed by a complementary caning. A birching followed by a caning, known to the boys as the double whammy, the second half of which, I am afraid, Divine, is what you are now about to experience. The fact that you have a sore bottom is no reason why you should not be caned on it immediately.”

“Divine, let me explain to you the purposes of corporal punishment. It is not only to dissuade the recipient, in this case you, to abandon his erroneous ways, but also to inflict pain on him in retribution for his misdeeds. The latter reason is, alas, often the only reason for beating a boy: to make him suffer pain for his misdeeds, for sadly the corrective element is often ignored by many boys, who go on misbehaving and find themselves time and time beaten again for repeating essentially the identical offence.  Let us hope that both Appleby and you have each learned your lesson, otherwise the excruciating pain you are both now enduring, which, I am afraid, Divine, in your case, will now be intensified with the rattan cane, will have been in vain.”

“Now, boy, as did Appleby, go and bend across the back of that armchair, place your hands on its arms and hold your bottom high. Then, do not move until, I give you permission to do so. You will receive, as did Appleby, twelve cuts of the senior cane across your naked buttocks partly to teach you not to make unauthorised experiments in the chemistry laboratory and in retribution for the chaos you caused to several classes, coupled with the abominable smell which pervaded the classrooms and corridor in the vicinity of the laboratory.”

“Sir, if I might be permitted to say…”

“Divine you are permitted to say absolutely nothing; you have already said it all. Just do as I have told you, unless you wish to see your beating increased from twelve to 18 strokes of the cane. Jump to it boy;  I will count from one to three and if you are not in position over the chair on the count of three, then you know what will be the consequences for you. Divine; resign yourself to the fact that you are going to be caned; and caned thoroughly. There is no way you can avoid it. You are talking to a deaf ear. There will be no last minute reprieve; your bottom is going to suffer a twelve cut beating with the senior cane, applied by me. So just accept it.”

Before Cuthbert had finished speaking, the completely naked Eustace was, like greased lightning, across the chair, with his arse held high in the air, almost arrogantly as if saying: “Ok you’ve won the battle, brother, but not the war.” What Cuthbert had not told his nauseatingly obnoxious brother, was that he intended to give him the twelve cuts of the cane in four groups of three, each group being in one position on the lad’s arse. It was Cuthbert exercising a sort of droit de seigneur on his brother’s arse. His actions were totally unfair; but unfairness happens all the time in life. Perhaps Cuthbert could be forgiven for being slightly vindictive towards his brother, in view of his obnoxiousness. Eustace, yet again, showed his lack of any moral fibre: that lack of fortitude, in his complete inability to maintain a stiff upper lip in the face of painful adversity.

He howled the house down as every stroke of the cane etched its agonizing, corrective message into his already pain-wracked arse, leaving a livid welt, which became ever deeper and more painful as three strokes landed in exactly the same place on four different parts of his buttocks. When he was finally allowed to stand up from his ordeal – and, make no mistake, Cuthbert had made sure that it had been an ordeal – his arse which had been already crimson and flecked with blood from the birching, was now engraved with four deep furrows, all already turning blue and oozing drops of blood.  Eustace Divine had been given an extreme example of a well-beaten arse: truly divine retribution, for his sins.

Chapter 13

For the next two years, Cuthbert burnished his already burgeoning reputation as being the one man to avoid at the school. With the tacit approval of the Headmaster, who expressed neither his agreement nor disagreement with the increasingly severe floggings dispensed by his Chief Disciplinarian, Cuthbert mercilessly thrashed boy after boy. The twelve stroke caning became the norm and it was not unknown for serious repeat offenders to receive 18 painfully swingeing strokes before they were allowed to escape to alleviate the agony of their often blood-flecked arses as best they could: almost a vain task!

And as time passed, many older boys experienced the full horror of divine retribution, as they submitted their naked buttocks to the double whammy: twelve strokes of the Stinton-Birch, a severe punishment in its own right, followed by six, or often twelve cuts of the senior cane. No one could ever accuse Cuthbert of shirking his duty. Barely a day went by, but what a clutch of trembling boys could be seen, standing at the door of the Correction Room at the fatidic hour of 4:30 pm, waiting to be called in one by one, to face the repetitively percussive crack of the rattan tattooing its message onto their naked buttocks. Given the leisurely way in which Cuthbert dispensed the pain which went with his office, waiting in the corridor could be agonisingly long and mentally as painful as the punishment itself.

Take the example of the standard twelve-stroke caning which is what most boys received for their sins. Cuthbert placed each stroke at exactly 15 second intervals. Meticulous to a fault, he had, in fact, bought a wall clock with a clearly visible sweep second-hand, which he watched with an eagle eye as he thrashed each boy. The first stroke landed on the lad’s naked arse, exactly when the second-hand was on the number twelve; the next stroke descended exactly fifteen seconds later, when the hand reached the number three on the dial; and so it went on. One does not need to be an Einstein to see that the first six strokes took 75 seconds – a full minute and 15 seconds – to administer: an absolute age for the poor lad bent across the back of the chair having his arse engraved. 

But the the misery of waiting was made even worse, for Cuthbert always paused for a full minute before applying the final six strokes. Thanks to the generous 15 second appreciation pauses between every stroke and a full minute’s pause after the sixth stroke, the standard tariff twelve-cut caning took a full three and half minutes to accomplish, You can imagine how the victim of this agonisingly long-drawn-out procedure felt as he waited, what seemed to him like forever, between each painful stroke. However, the actual time spent on the physical act of the flogging itself was doubled or even trebled, by the time that Cuthbert spent verbally admonishing his present victim for his sins. 

Thus the mental, if not the physical torture of this excessively long procedure for the unfortunate boy actually being thrashed was shared by his school-mates, who were obliged to wait their turn in the corridor. The minimum wait was about seven or eight minutes between beatings:  an absolute age for those standing outside waiting to be called in to have their arses shredded by Cuthbert. On a bumper evening, when up five boys could be found waiting to submit their  naked arses to the caress of the cane, the last lad to be called in could have been standing there, figuratively petrified to death, shitting apocryphal bricks, for over half an hour.

Chapter 14

It was nearing the end of Cuthbert’s second school year in July, when he received a message asking him to see the Headmaster. Cuthbert had, earlier that year, submitted his thesis to Oxford and had just received notification that he had been awarded the degree of DPhil Oxon. So he was now entitled, aged only 23, to call himself Dr. Cuthbert Divine.  The Headmaster greeted him as if he were a long-lost friend, rather than a colleague, whose study was a few paces away at the other end of the corridor:

 “My dear Divine,” he effused in his usual manner, “Do please come in and make yourself comfortable.” He rang the bell and his butler appeared immediately, bearing a bottle of champagne in a wine cooler and two glasses.  “I think congratulations are in order, as I hear on the grape vine that you have been awarded the degree of Doctor of Philosophy: a DPhil from Oxford, no less! Allow me to be the first to congratulate you on such an outstanding achievement and offer you a glass of champagne in celebration of the event. It is quite a feather in your cap for you personally, but also brings prestige to this School. It is a single honour to have a staff member bearing such a prestigious degree from one of our two most distinguished universities.”

Cuthbert wondered how the Headmaster had learned of his success. He had told no one of his research and submission of his thesis to the examination board. But, he deemed it unwise to enquire how the Headmaster had learned of his elevation to the celestial ranks of Doctor of Philosophy. He sat back in the armchair, in which he had been ensconced by the Headmaster, sipping his champagne, wallowing in the embarrassingly fulsome praise gushing from the Headmaster’s lips.

Finally, having exhausted his flow of eulogising rhetoric in praise of Cuthbert’s new status, the Headmaster turned to another, completely different topic: “Divine, you have now been with us for two years and in that time you have given this  School sterling service in your role of Chief Disciplinarian, for which I wish to thank you personally. I am sorry that, for reasons of my health, I found myself forced to transfer the entire disciplinary load of the School to your shoulders, as I was no longer physically capable of doing even my reduced share. However you have risen to the challenge admirably; I am sure that I speak for all the staff when I say what a splendidly efficient job you have made of it. I hear that you are already have a reputation rivalling my own among the boys.”

“As you are aware, in my function as de-facto Housemaster, of School House, I have hitherto kept the disciplinary aspects of a Housemaster’s duty in my own hands. However I find that the physical effort needed discipline the boys of School House is also getting too much for me to handle anymore. Make no mistake, Divine, even outside of the classroom, the boys are always up to some mischief or other, for which they frequently need a taste of the traditional public school, cure-all medicine: the rattan cane.”

“Now, I have already discussed this matter with the Board of Governors’, who have agreed to establish a new permanent post of Housemaster of School House, a post, which traditionally the Headmaster of Stinton has always fulfilled. This new post is entirely in my gift and I can think of no one better than you to take it up. I don’t know where you are living at the moment, but if you accept the offer of this post of Housemaster of School House, I should tell you that it comes with a spacious, furnished Housemaster’s apartment, of which, living here in the Headmaster’s lodgings, I have used only the Housemaster’s study for purposes of disciplining my flock: regretfully, a depressingly regular, but necessary duty.”

“The advantage to you as a bachelor is that the School House kitchens would provide you with all your meals at a very reasonable rate; laundry and cleaning of your apartment and would be handled by the general staff of School House; and you would also, as befits a gentleman, have a valet-cum-general-factotum to attend to your every needs. Additionally, I should tell you that your emolument would be increased considerably, in view of your extra duties as Housemaster.  You would also be able to retain your teaching load and your position of Chief Disciplinarian, without which – and I flatter you not – after two years of the sort of diligent, disciplinary care you have lavished on the boys, this School would be lost.”

“It is discipline which holds a school like Stinton together and enables it to turn out the calibre of young gentleman it habitually does; and, I might add, has done for well over a century. Discipline is equally necessary during the day in class time, as in the boarding houses, where the boys get up to endless mischief in their free time. I would hate to see my own years of painstaking dedication to the smooth running of School House, frittered away by some well-meaning new Housemaster who preferred freedom of expression – I think that is the current expression for the misguided concept of abandoning corporal punishment– over the strict discipline, which, in my considered view, is ultimately what the boys both need and understand.”

“Young gentlemen in the making they may well be, but they are no different from boys in general. As the old saying has it: give them an inch and they’ll take a mile. Observing you over the past two years I am quite sure that you and I are reading from the same page: singing from the same hymn-sheet, so to speak, and that you are the ideal man for the job.  So, Doctor Divine, fresh as you are from the celebrity mint of Oxford, what do you say? Will you accept the offer and become Housemaster of School House?”

Cuthbert having only two years experience as a public school teacher, could barely believe his ears that aged but 23, he was being offered the post of Housemaster of the oldest and most prestigious House at Stinton, with all that such a promotion implied for his career.  He had been forced to suffer the overtly disdainful envy, with which he had not only been viewed, but also treated – an was still being treated – by some older members of the teaching staff, who felt that they had been passed over for the then newly created post of  Chief Disciplinarian. which, in fact, they had!  What additional, vituperative opprobrium would they heap on him, if he, aged now but 23, was appointed Housemaster of School House, the oldest and most prestigious of the six boarding houses of the School? Justifiably his colleagues would be sorely annoyed to see their number, once again passed over for a plum appointment. However, as a loner, why should he care what his colleagues thought?

He was well aware of the current invidiously salacious rumours that there was some sexual liaison between the bachelor Headmaster and him.  Such sexual relationships between an older and a younger man, although outside the law of the land, were neither unknown nor uncommon; but given Cuthbert’s own aversion to any form of sex other than masturbation in secret, such rumours were, of course, completely without foundation.  The thing which united the Headmaster and Cuthbert was their undoubted, but unspoken sadistic streaks; their shared love of subjecting boys’ naked bottoms to the pain of corporal punishment. Both of them knew privately that this was the bond between them. But neither of them had ever articulated the fact to the other; and if ever accused of abusing their positions, they would both have vigorously denied that they were doing other than their duty in flogging boys’ arses in retribution for very real offences.

But, with the Headmaster’s encouragement and non-interference in his day-to-day performance of his disciplinary duties, Cuthbert at the age of 23, had blossomed out and proved himself an incomparable master of both cane and birch. An appointment with him in the dreaded Correction Room made even the most recalcitrant braggadocio, miscreant boy flinch at the thought of the pain he was about to endure; and it has to be said Cuthbert never disappointed him. The Headmaster and Cuthbert both knew inwardly that they possessed that sadistic streak, which gave them pleasure inflicting physical pain on others; for each of them, the act of caning or birching boys had become a pleasure, not to be denied.

It was precisely to preserve what he saw as his legacy to School House that the Headmaster, conscious of his failing health, wanted to ensure that his successor was of the same mind as himself. On the evidence to hand, Cuthbert Divine was the perfect choice. He was an unwaveringly dedicated disciple of both the cane and the birch, both of which he wielded efficiently and with considerable pleasure; for himself, of course; not for the unfortunate miscreant. But equally important was the fact that he was young. Thus, his appointment could potentially ensure that the Headmaster’s disciplinary legacy to School House would endure and, hopefully, be enhanced for many years to come.

“So, come on Divine, make up your mind. Will you or won’t you accept the offer?”

Cuthbert had, of course, no intention of refusing such an offer. To hell with what his colleagues thought of his promotion; let them think what they wanted; he had no need of a collegiate type of life. Not only would he still be in charge of the Correction Room regime on a daily basis, but he would also acquire a house of 80 boys on whose backsides he could lavish the sort of expert, tender, loving care so dear to his heart.

To himself he made no bones about why he had decided to pursue a career as a public school master. However he had succeeded beyond even his wildest dreams; dreams which had begun five or so years previously, when, as head-boy of Stinton, he had recognised and revelled in the almost orgasmic pleasure he got from thrashing a schoolboy on his bare arse. He was honest enough to acknowledge to himself, given his own, very real, sexual inhibitions, the act of flogging a boy, followed by a session of masturbation in private, was as near to a full sex life as he would ever get.

“Headmaster, I am both honoured and flattered that you prize my services to the School so highly as to make what must be the most unprecedented offer to a young man of 23 year of age, which I am delighted to accept. I only hope, Sir, that I will live up to your high expectations.”

“Oh tosh, Divine; do stop talking such rubbish. If I hadn’t thought you were up to the job, I wouldn’t have offered it to you. Look, young man, if William Pitt the Younger could become Prime Minister and run the United Kingdom at the age of 24, you will find running School House a breeze: akin to being as difficult as falling off a log.” He paused a moment and then made a remark that showed he probably knew that Cuthbert derived considerable pleasure from thrashing his charges, as he said: “And just think, Divine, as Housemaster you will have whole flock of boys on whom you can exercise your undoubted disciplinary talents in a completely different context.. Well now that we know where we stand, let’s celebrate your decision by finishing off the champagne together and then tomorrow we’ll get your new contract signed, sealed and delivered.”

Chapter 15

Until now, Cuthbert had been renting a small cottage in the village of Stinton. This he now gave up, as his new position as Housemaster offered him accommodation in the School itself.  Cuthbert was well and truly installed in his quarters when the new school year started in late August. He saw no problem of depriving his new flock of the potential delights of a traditional birching as the Correction Room, which he retained as his study during the day, was connected to School House by a short corridor: an easy brief walk for boys in their pyjamas and dressing gowns, the usual attire for house beatings. So why deprive deserving boys of a birching if the deserved it, as many would doubtless find out they did.

The boys of School House saw the additional threat of the birch as a Sword of Damocles’ added to the ever present threat of the rattan cane, already hanging over their heads. Also, with the advent of a new, live-in, full-time martinet of a Housemaster, with an established reputation for discipline, the threat of punishment for the slightest misdemeanour had increased considerably. Cuthbert’s peerless reputation for his daytime generosity, with both cane and birch to boys throughout the school, had preceded him as Housemaster.

The Headmaster’s final word of advice as Cuthbert commenced his reign as Housemaster of School House was to begin as he meant to continue:  “Divine, a word in your ear as you begin your tenure as Housemaster. From the moment you first set foot in the House, you have to show the boys that you and you alone are in charge. Being new to the job, the boys will attempt to play you. Cede not a single inch to them or, as I already told you, they will take a mile.”  And what better way of showing that he was in was in charge and establishing his authority over the boys than whacking a few backsides for starters? 

Again the Headmaster gave him invaluable advice: “Far be it from me to tell you how to run the House; but if I were you, I would attempt to find a few new boys to beat, more or less immediately, to show them what they can expect if they deviate from the straight and narrow. But, I would also suggest that you attempt to catch a few sixth formers breaking the rules and also give them a good thrashing. That way you will show the entire house that all boys, young and old, will be treated in the same manner. It will also establish the fact that you, the new Housemaster, are in charge and will brook no nonsense from any of the boys, no matter what their age. I can but repeat to you again the age-old adage, that boys given an inch will take a mile, Do not allow them them the opportunity to take even that first inch.” It was with this advice still echoing in his ear that Cuthbert began his first day a Housemaster of School House.

Each new school year, School House received about 20 new boys fresh from Stinton Grange preparatory school. Stinton College was unique among English public schools in that all its new pupils had received their elementary education at Stinton Grange. The brilliant academic record of Stinton College, which allowed it to insist on this unusual requirement, forced parents to make a long-term commitment concerning their offspring’s education at the age of eight.  So great was the demand that Stinton found itself in the same situation as that most prestigious of schools, Eton College. Parents wanting to ensure that their son would secure a place at Stinton College were obliged to enrol him for entrance to Stinton Grange, more or less the day he was born if they wanted to be sure of a place.

Then, from the moment a boy entered Stinton Grange at the tender age of eight until he left Stinton College going on 19, he was subjected to the rigorous discipline for which both schools were justly notorious. The Stinton duopoly,  in true to onomatopoeic fashion, stinted on neither the eye-watering high fees they extracted from a boy’s parents for his education, nor in the way the average boy was disciplined with the cane, which was used liberally in both schools. In fact, to avoid any problems, the contract, which the parents signed at the outset, specifically stated that at both Stinton Grange and and Stinton College, boys would be corrected if necessary by application of the cane or birch, or possibly both, to their boys’ bare buttocks.

There was no opt-out clause; for parents who did not want to see their sons beaten throughout their schooldays; they had to look elsewhere for his education. Nevertheless, in spite of the indecently exaggerated high fees and the prospect that their offspring would be flogged if they misbehaved – or sometimes when they didn’t – there were more than enough parents willing to consign their son to the tender, loving care of the Stinton education system.

Not surprisingly, all new boys, including those who had been allocated to School House, were no strangers to the bite of the cane, which  had been a regular feature of their daily lives at Stinton Grange since the age of eight. Most of them, in Stinton Grange speak, had had their bare bums swished  on several occasions by the time, aged twelve, the entered Stinton College. But there was an enormous difference between a swishing with a very light cane which they had received at the prep school and the proper beatings to which they would find themselves subjected at Stinton College.

Moreover, none of that year’s new boys of School House had the faintest idea that the pert little bottoms of some of their number would shortly serve to demonstrate and exemplify the equality of the disciplinary treatment across all ages: young or old, the boys all received exactly the same treatment for their sins.

Cuthbert, mindful of the wisdom of the Headmaster’s counsel, was intent on showing his authority as suggested.  It was Friday evening at the end of the first week that the first of two golden opportunities presented itself to him. Lights-out in the two, first-form dormitories was at nine o’clock, after which the boys were supposed to be in bed and were forbidden from talking to each other.  It was the responsibility of the head of house and the two house-prefects to see that the lights were switched off at the appointed hour.  

Quite by chance at around 9:30 pm Cuthbert was walking along the corridor where the two first-form dormitories were located, with no –  well, let is call it –  preconception of what he might find. He was, as always, itching to address some unfortunate lad’s naked bottom with his cane and was hoping to detect some mischief afoot. Pausing at the first of the two dorms, he saw that the lights were out and silence reigned. However, arriving at the second, he saw from under the door that the light was on. Moreover, there was considerable noise coming from within. It does seem to be a fact that when boys are together and engaged in conversation, their voices build up so that they are practically shouting at each other, even when, as in the present case, they risk breaking some school rule or other.

Cuthbert realised immediately that this was a unique opportunity to teach the boys within, the very lesson that Headmaster had been talking about. Moreover it was not just a few new boys as the Headmaster had suggested, but half the year’s intake: ten boys, whom he could make an example of and justifiably beat in one fell swoop; things just did not get any better than this! He walked back to his study, selected a whippy junior cane and walked back to the offending dorm. He flung open the door dramatically to find all ten occupants out of bed, talking at the top of their voices and doing anything but sleeping. So engrossed were they in their multifarious activities that for a few seconds no one realised that they had been caught red-handed breaking one of the key rules of the School.

Silence, when it finally fell, was deafening, as the ten young lads looked nervously and sheepishly at each other. To the very last one of them, they all knew that they had been caught in flagrante; guilt was written over every face. One look at their Housemaster holding a long rattan cane in his hand, said it all; they all knew before a word was spoken that their plump little bums would soon be toast; but not one of them had any idea of how well done the toast would prove eventually to be.

At prep school, in the past, they had all had their bare tails swished by a variety of masters; one or two of them had even had the doubtful privilege of experiencing the heightened pain of a visit to the Headmaster’s study at Stinton Grange. Not one of them had any even the vaguest idea how very different things would be at Stinton College. However, at 9:30 on Friday evening of their first week at Stinton College, they were all about to find out!

“Good evening, gentlemen: perhaps someone would be good enough to tell me why you are all out of bed with the light on at this hour when you are supposed to be asleep?”

Silence reigned: complete and utter silence. No one spoke a word.

“Well, gentlemen, you all seem to have suddenly been struck dumb, so, let me ask you one simple question, to which I want an immediate answer. Which of you young gentlemen had the audacity to switch on the light after the house prefect had turned it off at nine o’clock?”

There was a long silence, while Cuthbert looked unblinkingly and forebodingly at the trembling boys as if they had committed a major crime. Eventually one lad put up his hand and and admitted timorously that it was he who had done the dastardly deed.

Cuthbert now elicited the boy’s name: Edward John McGuinness, McGuinness Minor: the younger brother of the same Sebastian McGuinness, now beginning his final year in the upper sixth at Stinton, on whose arse, some two years ago, Cuthbert had inaugurated his solo birching career, in his role of newly appointed Chief Disciplinarian.  It could not be true, could it? But it in fact was. Here was the brother of a known offender, starting in his first week at the School, a potential life of what Cuthbert thought of as a petty rule flouter. McGuinness Minor, even though he did not know it, by his admission of guilt, was destined to serve as a prime example – the prime example – to his School House dorm-mates of what happened to new boys who broke the rule.

McGuinness Minor, emboldened by having admitted his authorship of the evening’s jollifications, said: “I think, Sir, that you may know my elder brother Sebastian who is just starting his final year in the upper sixth. I suppose, Sir, with my arrival, he will now be called McGuinness Major. I think you should know, Sir, that my brother speaks very highly of you.”

What exactly McGuinness Minor had expected to achieve by recalling memories of his brother is difficult to see. If he had been hoping for some form of forgiveness for his present offence, he was barking up the wrong tree completely. On the contrary, he had aroused his Housemaster’s original feelings of disdain towards his elder brother, making him determined to stamp out any embryo tendency towards a mischievous, braggadocio career for McGuinness Minor before it had really started.  Although he did not yet know it, McGuinness’s goose had already been cooked by his actions before he opened his mouth; and by invoking disdainful memories of his brother in his Housemaster, he had ensured that this goose would be done to a turn.

“Gentlemen, all of you apart from McGuinness Minor, put your pillows on the end of you bed, take off your pyjama trousers, kneel on your foot-locker and bend across your pillow. Hold your bare bums high in the air and keep still until tell you you can stand up again. McGuinnesss, you will remain standing and observe whilst I beat your dorm-mates.”

The dorms at Stinton were all identical; ten beds: five down each wall, each with a foot locker at its end. It was as if the person furnishing the dorm had arranged things so that the occupants could be made, as they now were, simultaneously to present their bare tails for for a mass beating with the cane. When the nine boys were in place, McGuinness, the sole observer of this unique spectacle, was treated to the arousing sight of the naked butts of his nine dorm-mates waiting tremblingly for the first bite of the cane. Physical pain would soon replace the mental misery of waiting. But wait they were made to do, whilst Cuthbert lectured them on the wages of sin.

“Gentlemen, if you continue in the way you have chosen to begin your lives here at Stinton College, then you will find this will be the first and, I might add, the most lenient of the many beatings, to which you will find yourselves submitting your bare bottoms. I suggest that you think hard before you break any other rules, otherwise you will find yourselves regularly in the uncomfortable position in which you find yourselves at the moment. As this is your first offence I shall be lenient with you. You will each receive only six strokes of this cane I have in my hand. In future if you continue to misbehave, as some of you undoubtedly will, you will get twelve cuts. But, as you will, now experience, even six cuts will be very painful. The purpose of beating you is two-fold: first, to punish you for breaking one of the golden rules of this House and second, to discourage you from future mischief. These two objectives, as time has shown over and over again, are, unfortunately, best achieved through the pain of the cane. Now boys, brace yourselves for this your first beating in this School.”

What Cuthbert had not told the boys was that he intended to give each boy one stroke the cane and then move on to his next victim. Thus, the time lag between successive strokes was considerable and each lad would be forced to crouch over his bed in agony, waiting, what seemed like forever between each stroke.  Cuthbert started his flagellation marathon, administering no less than total of 54 strokes of the cane, six for each of the nine boys being thrashed, by giving the first boy on the right his first cut of the cane with his back-hand technique. The boy let out an anguished cry of pain as the vicious rattan mated with his unfortunate, as yet unblemished buttocks raising the first crimson welt of the proceedings. 

Leaving his first victim to stew in his own painful juice, he then moved on down the row of the four waiting boys, whose buttocks were now twitching in fear as they waited for the cane to descend on them. Arriving at the last of the five beds, he then crossed the room and, still maintaining the boys on his right, proceeded to give each of the four sets of waiting buttocks the first of six strokes – all backhand. McGuinness, who had been told to stand there and observe, looked  nervously on, watching with increasing trepidation as his room-mates suffered, asking himself what his own punishment was to be.

Cuthbert with no sense of urgency, systematically and calmly repeated the same procedure another five times. The mental anguish, in addition to the very real physical pain of the cane, through which Cuthbert was putting the boys, must have been absolute hell for them. With something like five minutes between each stroke, the time it took Cuthbert to give each of nine boys one stroke, every boy had suffered the longest drawn out beating in history. The whole nine-boy- 54-stroke marathon had taken almost half an hour to complete. Although the mental anguish of waiting for each boy finally came to an end with the delivery of his sixth and final stroke, every boy was left with the physical agony of an extremely painful, well-beaten arse as a souvenir of his misdeeds.

But Cuthbert, intent on making the occasion truly memorable, did not allow the boys to rise from their kneeling position at the ends of their beds.  They were to be made to suffer in absolute silence, without being allowed to touch their tormented arses, whilst he now dealt with that arch-instigator, McGuinness. McGuinness, not surprisingly, having just witnessed a nine-man-beating of his room-mates and still not knowing what this own fate would be, was practically pissing himself with fear.

Having given strict instructions to the other nine boys to stay exactly where they were, he turned now to McGuinness: “McGuinness as instigator and prime-mover of the present situation in which you all find yourselves, I think you deserve special treatment over and above what the others have received. I am sure you will agree with me when I say that initiative should be justly rewarded. It was you and you alone, who decided to switch the light back on and you now see where that has led all of you. McGuinness, you alone were the one to strike the match, which led the conflagration in which you all got burned.”

“For that reason, boy, you must bear the maximum burden of guilt. This is not to say that your room-mates were innocents in this affair; far from it; but without your initiative, it would never have happened. Take of your pyjama trousers and come with me, McGuinness. For your part in this sad affair, you deserve and are about to get something more than just six strokes from the junior cane.”

Cuthbert led McGuinness down the short corridor leading to the main corridor, the aptly so-called Via Dolorosa, in which were located the Correction Room, the Headmaster’s study and the head-boy’s rooms, all of which were notoriously painful venues for any boy on an obligatory visit to any of them. McGuinness became quite justifiably increasingly nervous and once they entered the Correction Room he saw where they were heading. The penny had finally dropped as it registered with him that he was to be birched. The very thought of what was about to happen to him brought tears to his eyes: tears, which had never been far away, as he had watched his room-mates being beaten, but which now, with the sudden realisation of what he was about to happen to him, poured down him cheeks.

Cuthbert was very experienced at ignoring the histrionic outbursts from boys of every age when they finally became aware of the fact that their bottoms were on a direct collision course with the dreaded birch. As McGuinness started his tearful plea for clemency, Cuthbert immediately shut him up. “McGuinness, you have to understand that actions do have consequences, which at times can be painful; this is  one of those times for you; you have to face up to the fact that in switching back on the light this evening, you broke one of the key rules of this School, for which you will now find yourself paying the very painful price of nine strokes of the birch.”

Eventually McGuinness saw that there was little he could do to save his skin and accepted the inevitable. They moved into the adjacent room where the birching block stood waiting for its next victim.  Cuthbert ordered the hapless, tearful McGuinness to kneel at the block and to hold his bare bottom high. He then gave the lad nine cuts of the Stinton-Birch. McGuinness, at his histrionic best, howled his appreciation of each stroke like a banshee. Cuthbert whose sensibility to such outbursts was totally impervious, pressed on regardless.

Cuthbert now marched the bare bottomed McGuinness back to the dormitory, where his nine room-mates were all still bent across the end of their beds, waiting to be told to stand up and be allowed to attempt to assuage the pain raging in their tales. He told them to stand up at the foot of their beds and place their hands on their heads.

He then turned to McGuinness and said: “Now, McGuinness, take your pillow, place it at the foot of your bed and adopt the same kneeling position as that which which your room-mates have just abandoned. I will then complete your punishment by giving you six cuts of the cane. Just as you witnessed our room-mates being caned and so I deem it as only right that they should now witness, you, the instigator and prime mover behind this evening’s events, receiving the same punishment as they have just suffered.” 

Poor McGuinness – one has to sympathise with the boy for what he had already been put through by his relentlessly implacable Housemaster – begged for mercy: “Sir, Sir,” he cried, “I don’t think that I can stand a further beating, Sir.  Sir, please, Sir, you have already given me nine strokes of the birch and I beg you, Sir, not to beat me anymore.  Sir, I am truly sorry for what I did, and I have learned my lesson. So, Sir, please do not now cane me. It would be so unfair, Sir.”

Frankly, any fair-minded person would have had to agree with McGuinness, for the lad had truly suffered for his offence, which was really rather minor and did not in any way justify the severity of the birching which Cuthbert had inflicted on him. But Cuthbert was also intent on making a shining example of the boy and was both unmoved by his pleas for mercy and implacable in his resolve. So poor McGuinness was made to kneel at the foot of his bed and take six cuts of the cane on his already well-birched arse.

His room-mates were caught between two stools. On the one hand they sympathised with McGuinness in his hour of distress. But they were also human and most of them had the human failings of school boys: they derived considerable pleasure from seeing one of their companions, beaten; the concept of Schadenfreude, was, as ever, present and alive and well. Its sexual effect on some of the boys as they watched Cuthbert cane McGuinness’s arse, was evident, in their inability to conceal their uncontrollable , small boners ; but boners nevertheless and least four of the young boys had distinctly visible erections.

The retribution spectacle was finally over and the pain-wracked boys were finally allowed to go back to bed to attempt, as best they could, to alleviate the traumatic misery of the pain they were still feeling.  Meanwhile, Cuthbert was feeling very pleased with himself. He had taken first key step to stamp his authority as a new Housemaster on the boys of School House.  He thanked his luck that he had, by chance, lighted upon a whole dormitory of ten new boys on whom he had been able to impress – literally – his authority. Although ostensibly performed to show the boys who was in charge, he had, nonetheless, immensely enjoyed thrashing ten arses; but when did he ever not? He left the boys feeling in need of his only personal sexual relief: that provided by his five-fingered-lover.

Cuthbert lay there behind the locked door of his bedroom, giving his rock hard member a dose of vigorous manual massage, which it had desperately been requesting in its usual forthright, embarrassing way from the moment the first stroke of the cane mated with the first lad’s arse. Suddenly it occurred to him, in mid-wank, so to speak, that now he was a Housemaster in his own right, he had a new string to his bow.

As Chief Disciplinarian, he had acted only as a proxy-beater for his colleagues. He knew that his services were was basically unwelcome by them; they would all have much preferred to thrash the boys for whom they now were obliged to write punishment notes. His advent had robbed them of one of the key pleasures which had made their lives as teachers less humdrum. Although, if asked, few of them would have admitted it, the fact of the matter was that many of them, like Cuthbert, had looked forward with pleasure to the sexual arousal that the act of beating a boy’s naked arse inevitably brought with it.

For Cuthbert, who had been brutally honest with himself and had specifically chosen the profession of public school master, because of the opportunity it gave him regularly to beat boys, the fact that he was now a Housemaster had liberated him from the essentially subservient role he had played to his colleagues during the past two years. Just as it had been irksome for them to cede their beating rights to a newcomer, so also had it been somewhat annoying for Cuthbert to have to beat boys, essentially not of his own choosing. But he had hitherto played the role of a compliant, independent automaton, which his colleagues switched on by writing a punishment note, whenever they needed its services – as they often did.

It is not that Cuthbert objected to beating boys, whose offences had been referred to him via a punishment note written by someone else; he most certainly did not. But now that he had achieved the status of Housemaster, his horizons had been considerably widened; not only had he retained his position of Chief Disciplinarian, he could now also exercise his powers as Housemaster, and, as he had just done to members of the first form dorm, dish out punishment to any boy that he considered  deserved it.

Chapter 16

Lying There He Reflected on The Ten Boys He Had Just Beaten, Mainly Motivated by The Headmaster’s Suggestion that He Show the Members of School House that He Was in Charge and Would Take No Nonsense from Them. as It Was Just Ten O’clock the Hour when The Sixth Formers Were Supposed to Retire for The Night, He Decided to Investigate the Top Floor Corridor, Where the Upper-Sixth, Boys in Their Final Year at Stinton, Each Had Their Own Study Bedroom. It Was a Sort of Fishing Expedition to See Whether He Might Catch a Bigger Fish to Fry.

And so it was in the spirit of nothing ventured, nothing gained that he padded quietly along the corridor. Absolute silence reigned, until he reached one door, from under which he discerned that the light was still on; and then he caught a whiff of the inimitable odour of cigarette smoke on the air, emanating from the room. For a few moments, he stood quietly by the door listening and then he heard at least two, if not three, different voices, followed by a laugh. At that stage, he flung open dramatically the door to find two boys lounging on the bed and a third sitting in the only armchair in the room; they were all smoking cigarettes.  The look of surprise on their faces was rapidly replaced by one of concerned apprehension once it registered with them that they had been caught in flagrante smoking; breaking one of the most strictly enforced rules of the School.  Not only had they been caught smoking, but to make matters worse they had been caught fifteen minutes after lights-out.

Cuthbert looked at boys, all of whom he knew by name. Armstrong and Penney, who were sitting on the bed, were both known to him in his capacity as Chief Disciplinarian. In the past, when they had been in the fifth and lower sixth forms, he had addressed both their naked arses on several occasions with the cane. So, if not exactly serial offenders, they were not what one might call holy-innocents. But the third boy sitting in the armchair, whose room its obviously was, was none other than Stephen Bromley, one of the three house prefects appointed by the Headmaster at the end of last term, before he had turned over the post of Housmaster to Cuthbert.

So Cuthbert had had the luck to light  upon a group of senior boys – young men really – all of whom were eminently aware, as their faces told him before a word was spoken, that they were in for the high jump. Cuthbert could not have been more fortunate, as the three of them corresponded exactly to the Headmaster’s profile: A few sixth formers breaking the rules. If any group of lads were worth making an example of by way of showing the boys of School House who was now in charge, the three of them were it.

Cuthbert wasted little time on words: “I want the three of you, in your pyjamas, at the door of my study in five minutes for now; do I make myself clear?” There was no answer as the three lads looked dumfounded at having been caught smoking, breaking one of the most sacred of the school’s many rules. “I just asked you all if I had made myself clear. Am I to be honoured with an answer, or has your guilt rendered the lot of you dumb?”

Things had happened so quickly; the order to present themselves on the double at the study of their new Housemaster, without any form of admonition whatsoever from him, had clearly fazed all three of them. They all knew that they were as guilty as hell, but the sudden, totally unexpected arrival of their Housemaster on the scene, seemed somehow to have rendered all three of them momentarily speechless. Eventually, as if the significance of what a visit to their Housemaster’s study in pyjamas meant for them had suddenly registered, one after another they answered dolefully: “Yes, Sir.”

Cuthbert left them, went to his study in School House and installed himself behind his desk, waiting for the three boys to appear. With the three of them standing in front of him, he lectured them on the evils of smoking and then said: “Not only were you breaking one of the golden rules of this School, but you were also smoking after lights-out, which I remind you is ten o’clock sharp. Had you simply been sitting together after ten, in view of your age, I could probably have overlooked the fact that you should have been in bed.  However the very serious offence of smoking, I cannot and will not overlook.”

I might add that your offence, Bromley, is made even worse by the fact that you, as a newly appointed house-prefect, whose job it is to keep order inside School House and act as a role model of propriety for your housemates, were evidently encouraging your two friends to break them, by your own appalling disregard for the very rules, which you are supposed to be upholding. Now, I don’t want to hear any argument that as you are all over eighteen, you are entitled legally both to smoke and to drink. When you are not in this School you may do as you wish; but in term time, whilst you are still enrolled here as pupils, you will obey the rules of this establishment; if you break them you will be severely punished, as you are now about to find out.

It is doubtful if the three boys had imagined that they were to escape without a beating; but at the mention of severe punishment, all three of them paled and visibly trembled at the thought of what was about to happen to them. Cuthbert had a formidable reputation as Chief Disciplinarian and now he was their Housemaster to boot. They all knew that the standard tariff for even the slightest infraction had been raised from six to twelve strokes of the cane under his aegis as Chief Disciplinarian. As they were now to learn, the same tariff had been introduced to School House with his arrival as their new Housemaster.

“Gentlemen, I think you will all agree that your present offences – and this applies especially to you Bromley, as a house-prefect – are so serious that they merit the most severe punishment.”  Cuthbert stood up and pointed to two chairs: “Armstrong, Penney, kindly move those two chairs into the centre of the room and place them seat to seat. Then each of you take off your pyjama trousers and bend over the back of one of the chairs, place your hands on the seat and keep perfectly still in that position until I tell you otherwise. You will each receive 18 strokes of the senior cane, which will be applied directly to your bare buttocks.” Cuthbert selected a particularly vicious looking, straight- handled cane from the many he had to hand, before going across to the two boys and carefully folding back the bottoms of their pyjama coats, exposing totally the two boys’ lower anatomy from the bottom of their backs.

He looked at Bromley who had been left wondering what was to be his personal fate as he had already been singled out from the group of three as being a special case, in view of his prefectural status. He then made the following, totally unexpected, surprise announcement: “Gentlemen, as you are all aware, one of your number, namely Bromley, is a house-prefect, whose job it is to keep order in School House and see that wrongdoers, such as you, are punished for their sins. As a house-prefect, he has the power to cane any and all of his house-mates, from first-formers right through members of the upper-sixth to which senior group you all are privileged to belong.”

“As Bromley is new to the job, I therefore propose first to demonstrate to him how the cane should be administered to miscreant boys’ buttocks and then hand the cane over to him to complete punishment. I think is quite fitting that Bromley should flog his two partners in crime before receiving his own punishment. Allow me to assure you that Bromley will not escape his due for his part in this unfortunate business. After he has flogged you, he will then have his own comeuppance to endure; and allow me to emphasise to you that he will rue the day, as will you all, on which you decided to break one of this School’s most inviolable rules.”

Bromley was, of course, flabbergasted by what he had just heard. As a newly appointed house-prefect at the end of the first week of the new school year, he had not yet had the opportunity to exercise his undoubted prefectural authority with the cane. Now, here he was being handed a senior cane by his new Housemaster and ordered to beat this two co-defendants; before being punished himself for the same offence! It had escaped no one, least of all Bromley, that his punishment had not yet been defined. 

Cuthbert positioned himself to Armstrong’s right laid the cane across his buttocks towards the bottom of his back and brought it down backhand, with no prior warning,  at sizzling speed to mate with Armstrong’s trembling arse with that totally inimitable crack of rattan mating with bare, muscular flesh. He then proceeded to give Armstrong two more strokes each parallel to the first, each stroke being separated from the preceding one by about an inch. He then moved over to Penney and treated his arse to its first three strokes of 18.

He gave a running commentary to the watching Bromley:  “Bromley, you will observe that I am standing on the right of your two partners’ in crime and am applying the cane backhanded which allows me to make a smooth uninterrupted stroke as it avoids my arm crossing in front of my body. However, as you have never before handled the cane, you may find it easier, until, you become more accustomed to the act of caning boys during the course of the year, to stand in the more common position, to the left of your subject, and apply the cane forward handed.” 

“But whichever position you decide to adopt this evening for your maiden beating, I would draw your attention to three important points which should be observed if you wish your subject to get up from his ordeal – and I make no apologies for the fact what you are inflicting on your subject must be a painful ordeal if it is to have its desired inhibiting effect in his future behaviour – with what is vulgarly known as a well-beaten arse.”

“Firstly, you should pause about ten to fifteen seconds between strokes to allow each subject fully to appreciate the pain to which he is being subjected. I almost said to enjoy, rather than to appreciate; but enjoyment is certainly not what the recipient will be feeling, although you may find that you are enjoying the experience yourself,. as many prefects find that they do.  Secondly, you should endeavour to apply each stroke parallel to the preceding one. And thirdly, in standard a twelve stroke beating, which henceforth be the norm in this House, for any but the most serious offences, you should reserve eight strokes to be applied to lower half of the buttocks, which are the more sensitive part of a boy’s anatomy, to ensure that the recipient is reminded that he has been beaten each time he sits down for several days. I would emphasise that a beating, if it is to be effective, must always be very painful for the recipient for several days after the event.”

“However, Bromley, to conclude what has been an introductory lesson in the rudiments of the art of flagellation, which will be an essential element in your life your daily life as a house-prefect in this, your final year, at Stinton, your present offence, for which all three of you are being punished is extremely serious., which is why your two partners in crime are to receive not the standard 12 but 18 strokes of the cane in atonement for their sins.  I therefore suggest that you now give each of them a further three strokes and then pause for two minutes to allow them fully to appreciate the first six strokes of their their punishment, before proceeding to give them  a further six strokes, again followed by a second appreciation pause of two minutes. Only then should you give them their final six strokes, bringing their total punishment for smoking up to 18 strokes, which, from now on,  will be the standard tariff for any boy, no matter what his age, caught smoking, during term time in School House.”

The punishment, though severe, was not, in public school terms, in the late Victorian and Edwardian period, excessive. But by dragging out the punishment into three separate bouts of six strokes each, each being separated from the next by an agonisingly long pause of two minutes,  Cuthbert had successfully subjected both Armstrong and Penny to several minutes of mental torture in addition to the physical pain of the cane.  But Bromley was also in a mental quandary. To have been made to beat his friends, his two smoking partners, was bad enough, even though he had secretly enjoyed doing, as Cuthbert had hinted to him, what he had been made to do.  From what his Housemaster had just said during his verbal lesson in the art of flagellation, Bromley had been relieved to understand that he was not to lose his house-prefect status for his part in the disaster which had befallen all three of them.

But he was still left in complete suspense as to what his own fate would be. He knew that he would be beaten physically, as his two friends had been; but he still had no idea what was in store for him. He sensed, however, seeing how the new Housemaster functioned mentally, that he would be subjected to something special, in view of his elevated status as a prefect; and, of course, as events unfolded, he was right!

“Armstrong and Penney, you may now stand up and leave and return to your respective rooms, where I suggest you go immediately to bed. I would just say to you both that the pain you are now experiencing for your offence, will feel like a spring breeze across your buttocks compared to what you will encounter if ever again I catch either of you smoking in term time. Bromley, who as a house-prefect, is now about to suffer a birching followed by a caning, that much exaggerated, but nevertheless excruciating painful experience, known to boys at Stinton as the fate worse than death, will, doubtless tell you later, when you compare notes, you how lucky you have been to receive only 18 strokes of the cane for your sins.” 

So now, at least, Bromley knew his fate: he was to be birched and then caned for his offence: the famous double  whammy. But he still did know exactly how many strokes of each he would receive. Terrified at the thought of what was in store for him, but in a sense also relieved of the mental torture of uncertainty, he awaited his Housemaster’s next order. “Come with me, Bromley; I need you in the Correction Room as I intend to first birch you for your offence and I have no birch available here in School House. However, I am sure you will find the short walk down the corridor not too much of an imposition.”  

Once in the Correction Room, Cuthbert installed himself behind his desk in his usual position and said:  “Bromley, before we begin, I have to say how disappointed I am to have to punish one of my three house-prefects in his first week in the post. I had expected better of a senior boy in a position of authority; but instead, what did I find? One of my newly appointed prefects, who is supposed to be upholding  the rules, breaking one of the most sacred of them; and even worse he was not alone but with two of his friends from the upper sixth, before whom he should have been setting an example, not cavorting with them.” 

“You will appreciate, Bromley, that as a prefect, you have a lot to answer for. I therefore have no alternative but to make an example of you.  I intend, Bromley, to make you rue the day that you ever decided to smoke. You will receive fifteen cuts of the birch followed by twelve cuts of the senior cane both punishments applied across your bare buttocks. Now, boy, take off your pyjamas completely and kindly step into the adjacent room where the birching block eagerly awaits you.”

“But Sir, if I take off my pyjamas completely I shall be totally naked, Sir.”

“Bromley, I can but observe, that you have an obvious facility for pointing out the obvious.  Now, unless you wish me to increase your birching to twenty strokes, I suggest you divest yourself of your pyjamas completely, tops and bottoms, as I have just told you. Then go into the next room and kneel at the birching block; hold your bottom high and wait until I join you.”

Not surprisingly, a terribly embarrassed Bromley, attempting unsuccessfully to cover his generous sexual endowment with his hands, did as he was told and went into the next room where the dreaded birching block stood. As he knelt at the birching block, a shiver ran through his body at the thought of what was about to happen to him. He glanced around and saw two Stinton maple birches hanging there on the wall. He had never been faced with a birching until now; but now the unique reputation of the Stinton maple birch, every boy’s nightmare, flashed through his mind as he knelt there waiting for Dr. Divine to enter the room.  He had observed how hard and unrelentingly the new Housemaster had caned his two partners in crime; now, as he waited for the inevitable, a shiver of fearful apprehension suddenly gripped him; he suddenly found himself in a cold sweat, with his heart in his mouth, practically petrified with dread of the pain he knew was to come.

Bromley knew, being honest with himself that he had to make amends for his lapse of good sense. When the Headmaster had made him a house-prefect at the end of the previous year, he had promised to uphold the School rules.  He himself had been given the right to beat any of his schoolmates who misbehaved and broke the rules. Now, it was he, a prefect, who was being forced to do penance for having broken one of the most sacred of the very rules he had sworn to uphold.  As the young gentleman he actually was, he knew that he should be punished for his lapse in judgement. He accepted the fact that as a prefect he would be made an example of and that the punishment he was about to receive would be particularly severe.

Bromley knew that he should not have accepted the invitation to join his friends Armstrong and Penney for an illicit smoke. But the temptation of a cigarette had proved too strong for him to resist.  Then to make matters worse, since, as a prefect he had a larger room than his two confederate, cigarette-addicted friends, the illicit act had taken place in his room, which is where they had been caught red-handed. To invoke a good old-fashioned concept, Bromley knew that he had let his side down. The side, for which he was batting in his final year at Stinton, consisted of the three house-prefects, of which he was one. His co-prefects were named Bantry and Westwood.

Westwood had the additional distinction of being house-captain; and as Bromley, along with the rest of School House that year was about to experience, Westwood, by nature a stickler was, to say the very least, a rigid observer for the rules. In many was he was like Dr. Divine: a young man with a sadistic streak: an embryo martinet, who now in his final year at Stinton, was intending to enjoy thrashing his house-mates: especially the younger boys of forms one and two. By the end of the first term he had made himself the most hated house-captain ever.  Hardly a day ever went by without some lad waiting in his pyjamas at bedtime, outside the house-captain’s study to be bidden a painful goodnight.

But what of Bromley?  He was totally humiliated, kneeling naked, as he was, at the birching block, waiting tremulously quivering for the first of fifteen strokes of the Stinton-Birch to mate with his naked arse. And when it finally came, his worst fears were confirmed; unlike her classic birch where the pain gradually builds up stroke after stroke, the Stinton-Birch was made sterner stuff and was searingly painful from the very first stroke. As stroke followed stroke, Bromley saw that fabled reputation of the Stinton-Birch, far from being a myth, was, in fact, a savage reality.

Within three strokes his entire arse was aflame.  Dr. Divine showed himself be as great an expert with the birch as he was with the cane. By the time the fifteen cuts had been delivered, Bromley’s entire arse had felt the scourge of the birch five times, as Dr. Divine had paused for a minute after each set of three cuts. Bromley was in complete and utter agony as he had been kneeling at the block for well over ten minutes.

But worse was still to follow, for his penance was only half finished.

Dr. Divine ordered him back into the main Correction Room, where, bent over the back of the old armchair, his poor arse took another twelve cuts of the senior cane. Once again his Housemaster demonstrated himself to be the consummate master of the art of flagellation that he truly was. This time the twelve cuts were not applied parallel as they had been in the case of Armstrong and Penny, but in three groups of four cuts each, each applied in the same place. Bromley emerged from his caning ordeal – and it had, by any standards, been an ordeal – with three painfully bruised stripes, each the product of four cuts of the cane, etched deeply into his crimson buttock.

 If ever a lad had been made to suffer for his sins, it was Bromley. Later in the twentieth century, before the abolition of corporal punishment by law his beatings would have been considered excessive and Dr. Divine would probably have been prosecuted for inflicting grievous bodily harm on one of his pupils. But in those days, excessive beatings were more or less par for the course. Did Bromley ever consider complaining about the treatment he had received? The thought never even crossed his mind; like most public school boys who had been savagely and quite sadistically beaten, he simply grinned and chalked itt up to experience and bad luck.

But to conclude this sad affair, Bromley’s problems were still not yet over. He was hauled over the coals by his two co-prefects, led by Westwood, the vindictive house-captain, who, with a degree of sanctimonious pomposity and self importance which would have better befitted an irate public magistrate, declared that Bromley, by his actions, had brought into disrepute the standing of the three of them as prefects.

“How do you think, Bromley that we are now supposed to maintain order and see the younger boys are made to obey the rules, in the light of your stupid actions? You have made us a laughing stock among our house-mates. Everyone knows what you did and is amazed that one of the prefectural elite can break the rules and still maintain his position. In my view, Bromley, Dr. Divine should not only have thrashed you as he did, but also canned you; you are, in my view, not fit to be a prefect any longer.” On and on he raged until he came to the crux of the matter.

“Well, Bromley, as our Lord and Master, Dr. Divine has seen fit to leave you as a prefect, it falls to me as head-of-house to salvage what is left of our sullied reputation. I feel it is my duty as house-captain to show the rest of this Houae that we, the two other prefects, disapprove of your actions. Had I caught you red-handed smoking, even though you were a prefect, as head-of-house I would have felt obliged to thrash you, which, to show our joint disapproval of your actions to other members of School House, I now propose to do.”

“Take off your trousers and underpants, Bromley and present your bare arse to me for punishment by bending across the back of that chair there. You will get a dozen cuts of the senior cane for your offence. I hope that once your punishment by your peers becomes generally known, will suffice to restore our reputation as prefects and allow us to chastise our house-mates with dignity when they err, as many surely will.”

So Bromley meekly accepted another twelve cuts of the senior cane on the bare from his house captain. For the record it has to be said that having been severely chastised for his own offence, Bromley, who was still a prefect, having paid handsomely for his own sins, now felt able to discharge his prefectural duties with considerable vigour, as many of his house-mates’ striped arses would testify before the end of the year.

It is safe to say that Dr. Cuthbert Divine’s accession as Housemaster of School House had been a resounding success both literally and metaphorically. In one evening he had, accomplished the Headmaster’s suggestion that he show the entire house who was in charge. He had beaten not only one entire dormitory of ten first form boys, but also three final year young men, including one of the house-prefects, on whose arse he had really gone to town. The word went around the House like wildfire; touch the new man if you dared; he was so hot that you risked getting burned.

Chapter 17

Cuthbert Divine’s ascension in the teaching staff hierarchy at Stinton had been little short of spectacular. Here he was, at the very young age of 24, both Chief Disciplinarian of Stinton College and Housemaster of School House, the oldest and most prestigious of the six boarding houses’ comprising the School. He had already more or less satisfied his key personal objective in life  in choosing a career as a public school master: the access to a regular source of bare arses to flog, which was, to all intents and purposes, his principal pleasure in life: a fact which he kept to himself.

The reality of the matter was that Cuthbert enjoyed the process of beating boys’ naked buttocks, no matter how often he was called upon to perform the task. It had become for him a surrogate for copulation, that toy which, as most men would agree, never fails to please, but with which, he, sexually totally inhibited as he was, did not play. But now, as Housemaster of School House and Chief Disciplinarian of Stinton College, he found himself in what might best be described as a flogger’s paradise.  He considered himself as having the best of both worlds.

By day, as Chief Disciplinarian he was totally in charge of, and personally administered, with a pleasure that the passing years failed to dim, all caning’s and birchings emanating from punishment notes issued in class by his colleagues; which, in a school of almost 500 boys, ensured a regular, daily flow of arses needing attention from either the birch or the cane: the double-whammy: that excruciatingly painful combination of birch followed by cane, which was to remain unique to Stinton College and set it apart from other public schools.

By night, he ruled the roost as Housemaster of College House, a position he was to retain throughout his long career at Stinton and where he chose to live permanently as a life-long bachelor in the Housemaster’s accommodation. The bed-time beatings which he regularly inflicted on the pyjama clad denizens of School House throughout his entire career, served as a sort of night-cap for him – he never touched spirits – before he himself retired to his solitary bed each evening.

We now move on to the year 1908, eight years after Cuthbert, now aged just 29, had joined Stinton College as a member of the teaching staff and four years after he had been appointed Housemaster of School House. He had, by this time, imposed his strict disciplinary imprimatur on the entire School via the dreaded Correction Room and was universally feared by all the boys, especially those over whom he exercised the additional function of Housemaster of School House.  And exercise it he did; and always with considerable vigour. In term time, hardly an evening went by, but what some member of School House wearing only his pyjamas, found himself standing trembling at the Housemaster’s study door at bed-time, waiting to be called in, to be told to lower his pyjama trousers and submit his bare arse to the not so tender mercies of Dr. Divine’s cane.

Evening communications between a boy’s bare buttocks and the Housemaster’s cane occurred with such monotonous regularity that they become known to the boys as Divine Communion. Of course, where the Housemaster led, his acolytes, in the form of the the three house-prefects of the year, followed assiduously. And so, under Dr. Divine’s stewardship, School House became a place where the cane was never silent for long. But unlike the other five houses which comprised Stinton, the members of School House, thanks to its Housemaster also wearing the hat of Chief Disciplinarian and with the Correction Room in the same building, but a short walk from the Housemaster’s study, boys, whose offences were serious enough, were marched there in their pyjamas to suffer that fabled fate worse than death: the double whammy: a taste of the Stinton-Birch seasoned followed by a taste of the cane.

It was in early June, towards the end of the school year in 1908, Cuthbert received an invitation to dine with the Headmaster. Although the Headmaster and he got on well together as they read from the same page when it came to disciplining the boys, they rarely met outside the periodic staff meetings. In fact, Cuthbert could not recollect the last time the Headmaster had invited him to dinner as such invitations from the Headmaster to his colleagues were as rare as hen’s teeth. The Headmaster, a true, aloof, Victorian, who totally espoused class distinction, ruled over the School dictatorially from his lofty ivory tower and rarely fraternised socially with his colleagues.  Cuthbert, therefore presumed – correctly as it transpired – that the Headmaster had something important to say to him.

Even though such invitations were rare, the Headmaster as befitted someone of his standing and pretention, always did his guests proud. The dinner was served quite formally by the Headmaster’s butler and was excellent. However, it was not until the port decanter arrived on the table that the Headmaster came to the reason for his invitation.

“Divine,” he began, in his ever ponderous, formal manner, “Although it is not yet common knowledge, I shall be retiring at the end of the present school year. My heart condition, of which you alone among my colleagues are aware, has become considerably worse and my doctor has advised me that I should abandon the stress of running a large school such as Stinton and adopt a quieter pace of life.  I can tell you that I have decided to take his advice and at the end of July, I shall leave Stinton forever and return to live quietly, with my maiden sister in our family home near Brighton. I have already announced the fact that I intend to retire to the Board of Governors of this School.”

“So, my dear Divine, Stinton will require a new Headmaster as of the start of the next school year in September. My co-governors asked me if I had any suggestions as to who my replacement should be and I am happy to say that I told them I could think of no one better than you to take over from me to preserve the continuity and prestige which Stinton enjoys in the hierarchy of public schools, for which, with no false modesty, I think I can say that I have played an important part over the last 30 years.”

Having given himself this pat on the back, the Headmaster, now warming to his rhetoric, continued: “The governors appreciate that the School needs a firm hand to ensure that its essential continuity of purpose is not lost by my retirement. In particular, they are all acutely aware that the reputation of Stinton as a leading educational establishment for boys is based on two fundamentals: excellent teaching coupled with the maintenance of strict discipline. These two immutable principles enable us to turn out, year after year, well-educated young gentlemen, who ultimately go on to accept senior responsibilities in public and military life. In short, Divine, we turn out out leaders of men: men who are the lifeblood of our country and the British Empire.” Hurrah, hurrah, thought Cuthbert cynically.

“Since your arrival here as a staff member, some eight years ago, you have shown yourself to be an excellent teacher of the classics as well as a stalwart upholder of the discipline, the dispensation of which is of vital importance to the future wellbeing and external reputation of this School. You have also proved to be an excellent full-time Housemaster, having taken over School House, which, under your readership, has become a shining example of how a public school boarding house for young gentlemen should be run as a coherent community. So, my friend, I think I can safely say that the post of Headmaster of Stinton, is more or less being offered to you on a plate.”

“Headmaster, I am both honoured and flattered by the confidence you have in my abilities. Nonetheless, I would draw your attention to the fact I am only 28 years old and that there are several of my senior colleagues who have many years more experience than I. I wonder if I am really ready to take on the entire responsibility of running an institution the size of Stinton College.” 

Cuthbert had never even in his wildest imagination, dreamed that he would, at his young age, be offered the headmastership of a school of the size and importance of Stinton. Of course he was eager to accept the post, which he had no intention of refusing. What young man of his age would refuse such a promotion, which was an enormous boost to his already remarkable career? But he deemed it better not to seem too eager and appear to be somewhat reluctant to say yes immediately.

“Divine, I seem to remember us having this same conversation several years ago, when I offered you the post of Housemaster of School House. If my recollections are correct, then as now, you expressed the same doubts about your readiness for office. I remember my exact words, which are as relevant now as they were then,  I said at the time that if William Pitt the Younger could become Prime Minister and run the United Kingdom at the age of 24, you would find running School House a doddle.”

“Young man, just take a look at what you have achieved in your career at Stinton to date. You have proved yourself to be an excellent teacher; you have fulfilled the difficult post of Chief Disciplinarian with distinction, in the face of disapproval from your older colleagues, who wrongly blame you for stealing their thunder, when in fact they should be directing their anger at me, as I was the one, who, when I was appointed Headmaster, took away their classroom caning privileges. Additionally the boys have come both to fear and respect you, which is the way things should be and remain if you are to retain, as you have done, the authority which is vested in you.”

“Then again, at School House, you have shown yourself to be an excellent Housemaster, who is not frightened to take his boys to task if they deserve it, which, alas, they often do. School House, under your aegis, Divine, has become a shining example of the way a public school house, for 100 or so boys, should be run. All in all, Divine, you should be very proud of your performance here at Stinton. Believe me, young man, and I am not flattering you when I say quite sincerely that in my opinion you are completely ready to take on the onerous task of being Headmaster of this venerable institution.”

“You will inevitably have to face the continued disapproval from your older colleagues, who will feel, quite rightly, that, as a group, they have once again been passed over for an important post – indeed the most important post – in the School; which they have been; and with good reason, as not one of them is up to it. Divine, you are the only member of the present teaching staff of Stinton to whom the Board of Governors has authorised me to offer the post of Headmaster. We have reviewed the entire present staff and only you have been considered suitable. So if you do not accept the offer, which I am  authorised by the Board to make to you, which I now formally do with great pleasure, I am afraid the school will have to look outside its walls for my replacement.”

Cuthbert had listened to this long winded, nevertheless highly complementary speech in silence.  He had taken in the fact that what had begun as an exploratory monologue by the Headmaster had now turned into a firm offer of the Headmastership of Stinton College .to him, the youngest member of the teaching staff. The post of Headmaster was there for the taking and so Cuthbert did what anyone else offered such a glittering prize would have done: he took it. In doing so, aged only 28, he became the youngest Headmaster of Stinton ever, if not the youngest public school headmaster in the country.  It was a most unusual way to appoint someone to such a prestigious post. But the Headmaster had somehow convinced his Board of Governors that this was the right decision to make and the Board had authorised him to make the offer, without even seeing the potential appointee himself.

Thinking back to the way he had originally been appointed, Cuthbert recollected that he had never been interviewed by anyone other than the present Headmaster. But to appoint a junior member of staff to teach Greek and Latin and take over half of the regular beatings which were part and parcel of daily life for the boys at Stinton, was a far cry from appointing a new Headmaster, who would be in complete control of the entire School.

To have been appointed to such a key position at such a young age, meant that Cuthbert could look forward to a 40 or so years in total power of one of the most prestigious schools in the country. As he left the Headmaster, he could not believe his good fortune. Certainly his appointment would ruffle a lot of feathers and his elevation would not be popular.  But as we already know, Cuthbert was essentially a loner and did not require, or even want, to be surrounded by a grovelling, arse-licking staff, all of whom resented him  But in convincing the Board of Governors, and then Cuthbert himself that he was the man who should replace him, the Headmaster had not been acting entirely altruistically. An astute man, he had already seen when Cuthbert was head-boy that he was cut from the same cloth as himself, which was why he had encouraged him to think of returning to his old school as a master. And so as God had made man in his own image, the Headmaster had gradually conditioned Cuthbert to think like him when it came to disciplining boys; not, given Cuthbert’s own secret proclivities concerning the use of cane and the birch, that much conditioning was needed. In his post Cuthbert had quickly shown himself to be as strict a disciplinarian, if not stricter, than the Headmaster, his mentor. In fact the two of them were both men with that sadistic streak, to whom the possibility to thrash boys’ naked arses regularly was almost, if not quite as important as the air they breathed.

Now that the Headmaster was on the point of retiring, for no other reason other than that he wanted his post retirement legacy to Stinton to be the continuation of daily life as he had fashioned it over his 30 year tenure/ (he had been appointed Headmaster in 1870.) In the highly traditional and conservative Cuthbert, he had succeeded not only on finding, but also imposing, what in his book, was a good choice on the School, ensuring that during the next 40 years the status quo would be maintained at Stinton and practically nothing would change.

Under Cuthbert Divine’s leadership, Stinton would, alas, be condemned to remain fixed in a late Victorian time warp, where educational goals and the daily life of the boys, particularly in terms of the use of corporal punishment would be maintained.  In fact, with Dr. Cuthbert Divine in charge as Headmaster of Stinton, the birch and the cane were destined to become even more apparent as painfully unpleasant features of daily life for the boys than they had been in the past.

Chapter 18

On his accession to the post of Headmaster, in view of the sexual satisfaction he derived from thrashing boys’ arses, Cuthbert Divine, decided that he would also maintain his present position of Housemaster of School House. Moreover, as he had been pleasantly lodged and settled there in the Housemaster’s spacious apartment for several years, he further decided that he would continue to live in School House. The Headmaster’s palatial apartment was, therefore, left empty, except for the occasional formal dinner party Cuthbert was forced to give a few times each year, which took, with considerable  ceremony, in the formal dining room.

Cuthbert himself used only the Headmaster’s study, with his secretary housed in her adjacent office. With Cuthbert as Headmaster, the post of Chief Disciplinarian together with the dreaded Correction Room created specifically for Cuthbert to deal with the increasing physical inability of his predecessor to continue to deal with boys needing physical correction with the birch and the cane, both became redundant. What he thought of as the punishment note contingent, Cuthbert repatriated to its original home: so, the Headmaster’s study and the adjacent birching room became again the places to which, henceforth, the daily body of unfortunate boys, bearing punishment notes, reported to have their arses polished; and polish them with vigour, Cuthbert did for the next forty years.

The head-boy’s quarters remained at the other end of the the same corridor and Cuthbert left him and his co-prefects to deal with offences committed outside of class-times by their school-mates. Much to the joy of the then head-boy, Cuthbert, who had been frustrated at the time he himself was head-boy, by the limitation imposed on him to give more than six cuts of the cane for any one offence, promptly raised the limit, but, for the head-boy only, to twelve cuts.

Thus, as the old Headmaster had wished, after his departure, his legacy of strictly enforced discipline remained much same as it had for the previous 30 years at Stinton. Much as God created man in his image, the old Headmaster had created his successor, Cuthbert Divine, in his; not that there was must creating to do, as Cuthbert was already a born flogger at heart. Sad to relate, strict discipline, in the form of the birch and the cane, was to remain essentially unchanged until Cuthbert Divine finally retired some 40 years later. Under the successive direction of two sadistic men: the old Headmaster, followed by Cuthbert, his divine protégée, Stinton College remained stuck in a late Victorian, disciplinary time-warp for almost three quarters of a century.

For the rest of his long career, Cuthbert Divine, other than getting a little older each year, he did not change his habits. Almost every weekday in term time, more or less as regularly as night follows day, a procession of penitent boys, hearts palpitating with fear at the knowledge of what was to come, made its trembling way along the Via Dolorosa, to present their bare backsides to their Headmaster, whose ability with the birch and the cane, hitherto legendary, was to become a painful reality for many.  Additionally, each evening in School House, where Cuthbert remained Housemaster and chose to live for the rest of his career at Stinton, a nightly contingent of pyjama-clad offenders could be seen waiting to be called, one by one, into his study to face the music: inevitably heavily percussive!

To detail all his activities with the cane and birch over his long tenure as Headmaster of Stinton would be boringly repetitious, suffice it to say that what the boys considered their Headmaster’s excessive fondness for flogging their bare arses, did not do the School any harm. Indeed, quite the contrary:  in a changing world, where strict Victorian and Edwardian values were already beginning to crumble, there was an ever increasing demand among the more traditionally minded upper classes (the hunting, shooting and fishing set) who approved of what they referred to as the old ways – flogging and hanging – were happy to send their offspring to a traditional place, where the birch and cane were both alive and well and were in regular use.

Under Cuthbert’s aegis, Stinton’s reputation as being one of the last bastions of the traditional English, public school education was not only maintained but also increased enormously; indeed so much so that yearly intake applications, in spite of the enormous fees, were fully booked years in advance. To get a place at Stinton for your son and heir, involved enrolling him at birth. But there were always enough people with deep pockets to shell out unconscionable sums of money to do what they thought was best for their sons.

It is not to say that changes did not occur at the School over that long period, for Stinton had always been a progressive school in terms of it curriculum, which was changed to take account of the growing importance of scientific subjects such as s physics and chemistry and modern languages, which in earlier years had played very much second fiddle to the classics, history and mathematics. But the School continued to believe ardently in the benefits of both the birch and the cane.

To jump ahead to 1998 at the end of the twentieth century when all corporal punishment was abolished even in public schools, Stinton remained the last bastion of the birch, the use of which had been voluntarily abandoned by the mid-twentieth century in pretty well all English public schools. At Stinton, however, true to its long held beliefs, both birch and cane remained in daily use until that fatidic day finally came, when abolition of all forms of corporal punishment  became the law of the land.

When the First World War broke out in 1914, Cuthbert was rejected by the army recruitment for eye-sight reasons and shepherded Stinton through that conflict, as its young Headmaster of a group of ageing teachers. Most of his younger colleagues had joined up to fight for King and Country; many never to return. When, almost a generation later, the 1939 conflict erupted he was considered too old to serve. So, to his credit, Cuthbert successfully led the the School through two world wars.

During the two wars, although like everyone else, the boarders at Stinton College suffered rationing of food and general deprivation of the finer things of life, to which boys of their social background were accustomed, they were never deprived of that key element, without which, no public school education was ever complete: the well-beaten arse. In the eyes of Cuthbert Divine, Headmaster of Stinton College and also Housemaster of School House, the Second World War Slogan: Dig for Victory, could well have read: Flog for Victory, for that is precisely what he did. Meals may have been pared down; but birchings and caning went on at their usual rate, regardless of the war.

Chapter 19

But to return to Cuthbert Divine’s life at Stinton, one of the most remarkable things that he experienced during his long career at Stinton, was when he found himself teaching the sons of some of his former pupils, who had appreciated – if that is the appropriate word – their education at Stinton so much, that they had sent their own offspring there to benefit from what can perhaps be best described as a bracingly invigorating education.

One case stands out in particular: that of old-boy, Christopher Appleby. Readers will remember that Christopher Appleby had been the young man unfortunate enough to supply the arse, which had served in the master-class on flogging, which the old Headmaster had given to Cuthbert on his appointment in 1900.

Well, as the then Headmaster had predicted, Christopher Appleby, in spite of his chequered career at Stinton, had gone on to be a brilliant and highly successful barrister: in fact, the youngest man ever to take silk as a KC. He had married aged 25 and he and his wife had beavered away together and in the space of three years, produced three sons: Nigel, Stephen and Robert, all of whom were enrolled at Stinton College to be put through the mill of a rigorous – as far as corporal punishment was concerned – public school education. 

The eldest, Nigel, arrived at Stinton in 1919 and his two brothers, successively, in 1920 and 1921. All were assigned to their father’s old house, School House, where their present Housemaster, Dr. Cuthbert Divine, who was also Headmaster of Stinton, was the very man who had participated in the decimation of their father’s arse, all those years ago. So in 1921, when all three Appleby’s were present together as pupils at Stinton, Nigel was known as Appleby Major, Stephen as Appleby Minor and Robert, much to his indignant disgust, as Appleby Minimus:  an ironic designation, as he was already at 13, as big as his two brothers.

Needless to say on the arrival of Nigel in 1919, the name Appleby brought back memories to Cuthbert of that memorable master-class in birching and caning, now over 20 years ago, in which the then Headmaster had involved the newly appointed Mr. Cuthbert Divine, as he then was, in corecting Nigel Appleby’s father. Not unnaturally, given his attachment to the cane, as Nigel’s Housemaster, Dr. Cuthbert Divine, as he had become, was waiting for the first faux pas to allow him to pounce and introduce the young Appleby to the painful realities of life at Stinton. In the event, it was  wearing his hat of Headmaster rather than as Housemaster that Cuthbert caught the young man in full flight, running  down the corridor on which his study was located, the so-called Via Dolorosa, of which Appleby was soon to have a practical demonstration of why the corridor was so named.

On Friday afternoon of the second week of the new school year in 1919,  Cuthbert had just emerged from his study and saw the rear view of Nigel Appleby running down the corridor in the direction of the head-boy’s study. Assuming his most severe tone of voice despite knowing full well who he was, he called: “That boy, stop running immediately; turn around, boy and walk – and I do mean walk – back  towards me.”  The 13 year old Nigel Appleby stopped dead in his tracks, turned around and walked back to stand, trembling like a leaf, in front of the forbidding, gowned figure of the Headmaster, who said: “Perhaps, Appleby, you would be good enough to tell me why you were proceeding in such haste down this corridor. You know, I presume, that running anywhere in any of the school buildings is strictly forbidden and carries a justifiably severe punishment, for which you have just qualified yourself; explain yourself, boy.”

Poor Appleby was totally unaware that he had been breaking one of the School’s most stringently enforced rules. But ignorance of the law is no excuse; and that maxim, with reference to the laws of the land,  applied equally well within Stinton, where it was regularly enforced with the cane, applied with vigour to the bare buttocks of any boy caught breaking any of the myriad of pettifogging rules which governed pupils’ lives at Stinton College.

Unbeknown, not only to the newly arrived Appleby, but also to the vast majority of the boys, was the reason why running in any part of the school buildings was forbidden, leading to a very severe, over-the-top beating for any boy caught in the act. A few years ago, a boy, running down that self-same corridor, had collided with an elderly master, knocking him down and breaking his arm. Since then any boy caught running anywhere inside the school buildings, had been subjected to the direst retribution, as Nigel Appleby was shortly to experience.

Most boys quickly learned that one of the surest ways of getting their arses beaten by the head-boy or one of the prefects or even by the Headmaster himself, was to be caught running in the corridors. And, in spite of knowing what would happen if they were caught in the act, many boys still did it. In fact, it became commonplace to accept a dare from one’s classmates to run along the Via Dolorosa corridor and not be caught either by the Headmaster or the head-boy, whose studies were at the opposing ends of the corridor.

But at the moment Appleby had to give the Headmaster an explanation for his excessive haste. Well larded with Sirs, his nervous explanation ran as follows: “Sir, I’m sorry, Sir; but you see, Sir, I was late for an appointment with the head-boy. So I was running, Sir, so as not to be late, Sir. Our father always taught us boys – that’s my two younger brothers and me, Sir, that punctuality is the politeness of kings. So he said, Sir, that if kings could be on time, so should  we too, Sir. So, Sir, that’s why I was running, Sir.  And, Sir, I didn’t know running was forbidden, Sir, otherwise I would have walked, Sir.”

“And why, if I might enquire, did the head-boy wish to see you, Appleby?”

“Sir, he wanted to see me because he caught me talking twice, when he was supervising prep today, Sir.”

Appleby had been running to his meeting with the head-boy as he knew, even as a new boy, that the present head-boy had, in the first week of the term, his first week in office, already established a reputation of being congenitally bad-tempered and of having a very short fuse; if he were late, his bum risked having an even more explosive clash with the head-boy’s cane than that which he knew was coming. Having been through the Stinton Grange prep school mill, where bum-swishing, much like racing for kings, had been treated as a sport by several of the masters and was almost a daily occurrence.

Appleby already knew that it was always better, however unpleasant, to face the inevitable meekly and get the whole, painful process over and done with as soon as possible. So his running along the corridor could be qualified as being a self-serving exercise in damage minimisation. But now, standing here in front of the Headmaster, who had caught him running along the corridor, a much worse offence than talking in prep, his heart sank. By running in the corridor, even as a new boy, he sensed from the Headmaster’s demeanour that he had just made matters much worse for himself. He now had two faults to answer for: talking during prep and running in the corridor.

Of course, he was right, for the head-boy, newly elevated to that august position, with his freshly minted mandate to cane any and all of his school-mates, had no intention of letting Appleby off the hook with a caution, as he was intent on consolidating his reputation as a hard caner. Like many a head-boy before him, he enjoyed making his school-mates squirm under the cane and was intent on thrashing some arse or other as often as possible. Appleby had been warned not to talk during prep, but he had ignored the verbal warning. So now his bum was to be treated to its first, proper, public school beating by the head-boy. But what he did not realised was just how painful the Stinton College canes were when compared to the light canes he had experienced many times from the tender age of eight, when he had entered Stinton Grange prep school.

But Headmaster, Cuthbert Divine, with that sadistic streak of his,

had no intention whatsoever of allowing  Appleby to escape with a word of caution. Indeed, quite the contrary, as he felt slightly peeved – pipped at the post, so to speak – that the head-boy was to have first innings with the cane on Nigel Appleby’s arse. So in running down the corridor to avoid arriving late at the head-boy’s study and making matters worse for himself, poor Appleby had inadvertently done himself a disservice by putting the Headmaster into the position of playing second fiddle to the head-boy in the caning stakes. But even playing second to his head-boy, the Headmaster was a formidable player: an utter master of his instrument, as Appleby would shortly find out,

The Headmaster said: “Well, Appleby, your avowed commitment to punctuality is commendable; but in your extreme haste to be on time for what is evidently an important with the head-boy, you broke one of the School’s golden rules in running in the corridor. And that, young man, is not allowed under any circumstances. So, in future, when you have an important appointment to keep, I suggest you allow yourself enough time to get to the appointed place on time, without recourse to running.”

For a brief moment, Appleby thought that he had escaped with a verbal admonition from the Headmaster and that his arse had been saved from a bout of depredation from the Headmaster’s cane.  However, his hopes were immediately dashed as the Headmaster continued: “Now, Appleby, we must not keep the head-boy and his cane waiting any longer; so run along – I am speaking figuratively you understand – and complete your business with the head-boy, which I am afraid, given the reasons for your visit to his study, promises to be rather painful for you.” 

Then came the sting in the tail: “After the head-boy has finished correcting you, I shall wait for you to present yourself to me in my study, when I will attempt to make clear to you, in the traditionally practical way, the consequences of running in this corridor or, for that matter, running anywhere else in the School buildings. You will then understand why this corridor is known to the boys of Stinton as the Via Dolorosa.”

Nigel Appleby knew by now that he was facing what amounted to the calamity of a double whammy, Not only was he to be caned by the head-boy but, immediately afterwards, he was to have the agonising  pleasure of the  Headmaster addressing yet again with the cane what would by then be his throbbingly painful arse. As he left the Headmaster and walked towards the head-boy’s study to face what was to be the first of two painful beatings, he was almost pissing himself with the fear at what was happening to him.

Nigel Appleby, at the end of only his second week in the School, was, in the next few minutes, to be introduced, with a vengeance, to the inflexible and painful, corrective system of Stinton College. He was to be made to realise first hand or possibly better, but more vulgarly put, first arse, that he was being educated in an institution, which, when it came to discipline, did things the old way; and did them very thoroughly indeed.

In spite of his best efforts to be on time for his meeting with Hetherington, for that was the head-boy’s surname, his waylaying by the Headmaster made him three minutes late. The head-boy was obviously in an irritable mood as he began, in a hectoring, sarcastic manner to harangue Appleby: “So, Appleby, you finally managed to find your way to my study, through the labyrinthine intestines of this building. I thought with your non- appearance at the appointed hour that you must have lost your way. However, I should tell you, as a new boy that in this School, when the head-boy tells you he wishes to see you at a certain time, it is incumbent on you to see that you arrive punctually. As it is, you have had the discourtesy of keeping me waiting for an age and you must bear the consequences for your unpunctuality”

Appleby was only three minute late, which hardly qualified as an age. But Hetherington, like many a boy before him, who had just been elevated to the rank of head-boy was intent on exercising his authority which was never in doubt. And so, playing God, he indulged himself in a bout of hyperbole, grossly exaggerating the significance of three minutes lateness out of all importance.  

Appleby, wishing to explain began: “I’m sorry I’m late, Sir, but….” Here Appleby was interrupted by the head-boy before he could begin to explain why he was late. The head-boy displayed his congenital, permanent bad-temper by cutting Appleby off in mid-sentence and saying in a witheringly belittling tone of voice: “Appleby, you are here before me because you need and deserve to be corrected for your appalling behaviour in prep just an hour ago. However, I see that I need to teach you the proper form of address to use when talking to me, your head-boy or any of the prefects.  You employ the civility, Sir, only when you address a Master. When you address me, as head-boy, or any of the other prefects, although we have the power to correct you for your offences, as you will soon experience, we are still your schoolmates, all of whom you address formally by their surnames.”

“So when you began what I suppose was destined to be your explanation for your late arrival, in which, by the way, I have not the slightest interest, now that you are finally here, what you should have said was:  I’m sorry I’m late Hetherington.   I trust, Appleby, you have understood and absorbed what have I have just explained to you”

Appleby, recalling the maxim that discretion is the better part of valour, ate humble pie – there was nothing much else he could do –kow-towed meekly and said: “Yes Hetherington and I am grateful for your explanation.”

“Well, at least you have learned something as a result of your first visit to my study. Now let me see if I can make this occasion a memorable one for you.  Your behaviour during prep, which I had the misfortune to supervise today, was totally intolerable. I am fortunately in the happy position (Appleby thought to himself that Hetherington really meant the word, happy, which he said with considerable relish) to take rapidly the corrective action needed to bring home to you, young man, the error of your ways. Appleby, I told you twice to stop talking during prep; and twice you ignored my order. You do realise, I take it, that here at Stinton there is basically only one form of punishment for all offences: the rattan cane, applied on the bare buttocks of the offender, which in this case, I regret to say, Appleby, are yours.”

“Now I have already told you that I am not interested in the reasons for your late arrival. However, that does not mean that I am going to overlook it, and let you escape unscathed for your delinquent behaviour in arriving late. You have to learn to take responsibility for your actions, Appleby, or suffer the consequences, which as you are about to learn, here at Stinton, are always painful. As head-boy, I have the right to give you, at my discretion, up to twelve cuts of the cane at on any one occasion. As you are new to Stinton, I was proposing to be indulgent with you and give you only six cuts. However, in view of your late arrival, you will now receive and extra three cuts, bringing your punishment up to nine cuts of the cane in all, which I will now give myself the satisfaction of applying to your bare buttocks. Take of your blazer, Appleby, and step out of your trousers and underpants.”

While Appleby, now shaking like a leaf with fearful anticipation of the cane, was removing the said items of clothing, the head-boy placed two chairs back-to-back in the centre of the room. Glancing at Appleby, he then place a cushion on the seat of one chair to raise its height and then said:  “Appleby, kneel on the cushion, bend over the back of the chairs, hold your bare bottom high and place your hands on the seat of the second chair. Then keep them there until I tell you you may stand up again. Keep perfectly still whilst I am beating you.  If you move or attempt to massage your bottom whilst I am applying the cane, I shall start again. You will call out the number of each stroke immediately after you receive it and will thank me for correcting you. The form of the words of thanks is: Thank you, Hetherington, for correcting me; please give me another stroke of the cane, which I know I deserve for my disobedience.”

Any reasonable person would have thought that with Appleby in place, Hetherington would immediately have begun to apply the cane to Appleby’s invitingly attractive, as yet undefiled, bare arse. But not so, as the sadistically tyrannical head-boy was intent on making his victim suffer mentally as well as physically. He droned on with his moralising clap-trap for a further two minutes, leaving the unfortunate Appleby in a state of agonising suspense, waiting for the first cut of the cane to bite into his totally unprotected buttocks.

Hetherington finally ended his pontification about the wages of sin. Then with no warning to his victim to brace himself, he brought the cane swishing down with great force, to land with a crack in the middle of Appleby’s bare arse. The searing pain which Appleby experienced a spit second later, said it all. Appleby knew immediately after that first stroke that as far as punishment was concerned, he was now in a different world to that which he had previously known at prep school. He had now entered a place, where beatings were obviously given no-holds-barred and were hideously painful.

This was no swishing with a light prep school cane; this was serious pain, which Hetherington was intent on delivering; and to be fair to him, if that was the intention, which it obviously was, he was succeeding admirably  That initial stroke brought the first of what quickly developed into a flood of uncontrollable tears to Appleby’s  eyes. As stroke followed stroke, he simply could not stop them pouring down his cheeks. And when Hetherington finally told him he could stand up, put back on his clothes and leave, poor Appleby was the unfortunate possessor of an unbearably painful, nine-welt arse, which he had no option but to bear.

But the poor lad’s trials were not yet over. One has to feel some sympathy for Appleby, as Hetherington had been excessively vicious with the cane and Appleby he had still more anguish to look forward to, beginning with the traumatically painful walk back along the corridor – that aptly named, Via Dolorosa – to the Headmaster’s study. It is not surprising, that given the present state of his backside, he was terrified at the thought of what the Headmaster might have in store for him. And as he was shortly to find out his worst fears were well founded. It would have been a gross understatement to say that his spirits were at low ebb as he knocked on the door of the Headmaster’s study and waited to be told to enter. With his backside already throbbing with pain, he was literally petrified by the thought of the unknown.

The Headmaster’s greeting served to heighten his fears, when he said sarcastically: “Well, Appleby, I trust that you had a satisfactory meeting with the head-boy, who, I perceive, from the way you are walking, has given your bottom a good first taste of what happens to boys who misbehave in this School.” Appleby’s spirits, already low, fell still further as he eyed with growing apprehension, the old armchair in the centre of the room, across the arms of which a vicious-looking cane was lying, as if eagerly waiting to mate with his already painfully shredded arse; he did not need the Headmaster to explain its purpose to him.

“I see, Appleby that you have already noticed that the armchair over there is ready and waiting to receive its next occupant, which, as you may have guessed, will, unfortunately, shortly be you. Although having used the word occupant, thinking about it retrospectively, I am not sure that it is the right word to describe a boy, who is bending across its back, with his hands on its arms waiting for the cane to descend and dispel the chill air from his bare bottom. But, no matter, as I am quite sure that you already understand the suitability of the chair for anyone adopting, as you will yourself shortly experience, the penitent posture bent over its back.”

“Appleby, after the beating you have just endured at the hands of the head-boy for misbehaving during prep, I have brought you back here because I caught you running in the corridor, which is forbidden by one of the School’s most strictly enforced rules. As you are now about to find out, to be caught running anywhere in the School buildings, leads to very painful consequences for the boy concerned: in this case, for you personally, Appleby.  The reason you gave me that you were running because you were late for an appointment to answer to the head-boy for another of your misdeeds is no excuse. Knowing the time you were expected by the head-boy, who functions in loco magistri in disciplinary matters, you should have allowed yourself adequate time to walk – not run – to his study. The head-boy, I am sure, has added to whatever punishment he had in mind, for your discourtesy in arriving late.”

“However, be that as it may, I am afraid I cannot allow you to escape punishment for your second offence. Take of your blazer, boy, and go and stand behind the armchair. Then drop your trousers and underpants and bend over the back of the chair. Hold your bare bottom high and place your hands firmly on the arms of the chair. You will remain in that position until I tell you to stand up again. Is that clear, Appleby?” Receiving no reply from Appleby, Cuthbert repeated his question: “Appleby, I just asked you if that was clear. Perhaps you would favour me with a reply?” Appleby could do little other than whisper a tearful: “Yes Sir.”

Cuthbert Divine surveying the results of the handiwork of his head-boy, saw that he had really gone to town on Appleby’s arse. The first seven stripes, of which four were on the highly sensitive crease area on the lad’s lower buttocks, were all, to a fault, rigidly parallel and were united by the two diagonal gating-cuts. All were obviously produced by someone who had known exactly what he was inflicting on his victim and had been applied with considerable force. The skin had been broken here and there and spots of blood were oozing from the raised edge of the furrows. All were heavily bruised and turning that crimson-blue colour, the unmistakable hallmark of a well-beaten arse, Whether or not talking during prep justified such a painful attack on the lad’s arse on the lad’s arse, is doubtful. But in those days, punishments were often severely exaggerated and Cuthbert, looking with grudging admiration at the handiwork of his head-boy, had to admit to himself that he could not have done a better job.  

But the fact that it had been the head-boy and not he, who had had the privilege and pleasure of introducing Appleby to the strict discipline of Stinton, still annoyed him immensely. However looking at the sorry state of Appleby’s arse, he recognised that much as the lad deserved to be punished for running in the corridor – which he did – a  additional strokes of the cane, certainly the most damagingly vicious of all instruments of corporal punishment employed at Stinton, were completely out of the question.  However, Cuthbert, devoted to corporal punishment as he was, was loath to allow Appleby to escape scot-free. And then, quite suddenly his mind went back many years, to the day when the then Headmaster had made an example of Nigel Appleby’s father and given him what was the most severe beating of his life.

Cuthbert recollected how the Headmaster, intent on giving him a master-class in the art of beating a boy’s buttocks, had, what he had  termed preconditioned, Christopher Appleby’s bare arse by applying  six, swingeing strokes of an old razor strop, before moving on to the birch. Now, although Cuthbert had birched many lads since that occasion, now many years ago, he had never himself used a razor strop, nor, for that matter, anything else, prior to applying the birch, as he frequently did. He had, in fact, never thought about preconditioning a boy’s buttocks prior to birching or caning him since that day.  However, today, the sound of that razor strop, in the hands of the Headmaster, mating with the bare flesh of Christopher Appleby’s arse, came echoing back across the years as if it had happened just yesterday. 

Cuthbert went into the birching room adjacent to his study, and emerged a few seconds later holding that long-forgotten strop by its wooden handle.  He saw that it was the perfect implement to supplement the pain of the devastating stripes which Hetherington had just etched with such precision, into Appleby’s buttocks. Cuthbert would have preferred to have used the cane; but the frightful state, in which Hetherington had left the lad’s arse, excluded that. However, on the principle, strike whilst the iron is hot, a sentiment to which Cuthbert subscribed wholeheartedly, the strop offered him a convenient means of punishing Appleby immediately for running in the corridor and bring home to the boy that he was not only responsible, but also answerable, for his offences.

On this occasion, the forgotten razor strop was to prove the perfect implement with which to enhance the effect of the head-boy’s caning, the pain of which Appleby was still clearly suffering. Unlike the cane, the strop, on account of its width and weight, spread its very painful message across a large area, adding additional pain to the stripes, without actually doing any more physical damage. Additionally, it would ensure that the total surface of Appleby’s backside had been well and truly subjected to correction for his two offences.

Cuthbert first laid the strop gently across Appleby’s buttocks, causing the lad to wince with fearful anticipation of what was about to happen to him.  “Appleby, I am going to apply six strokes of this strop across your buttocks in retribution for your running in the corridor. You really deserve a dozen strokes of the strop, but in view of the fact that the head-boy has given you a masterful beating only a few minutes ago, on this occasion I propose to be lenient with you. Appleby, I feel I should tell you that many years ago, when I had just joined the teaching staff at Stinton, the then Headmaster and I had occasion to correct your now famous father, who often broke the rules, for which he, inevitably paid the price On that occasion the Headmaster used this selfsame razor strop on your father’s bottom, prior to birching him for his offences. To the best of my knowledge, it has never been used on any boy since then.”

“So, Appleby, this is somewhat of a historic occasion for you. You are about to be punished with the selfsame implement as was your father when he was in the upper-sixth form at Stinton almost 20 years ago. Brace yourself, Appleby, for even just six strokes of the razor strop will add considerably – as they are meant to do – to the dreadful pain, which I know you are presently enduring. Appleby, both you and I know that you deserve both of today’s beatings. (Appleby would not have agreed with him if asked, which he was not.) which, if you are wise, you will take in the spirit in which they are given: to teach you a painful lesson aired at improving your future behaviour.”

“If you do not do so, I am afraid you will find that you will pass your days at this School with a permanently sore bottom on which you will never be able to sit down comfortably. Make no mistake, Appleby; the head-boy, the prefects and I, in my dual role of Headmaster and your Housemaster, will not hesitate to correct you each time you commit an offence. Mend your ways immediately, boy, unless you wish to have a bottom permanently feeling the way it feels right now.”

Chapter 20

Of Course, that Was Not the Last Time Nigel Appleby Presented His Bare Arse to Dr. Divine for Correction. Like Father Like Son; Mischief Was in All Three Appleby Boys’ Blood. and The Most Glorious Occasion for Cuthbert – Less so For His Victims – Occurred Just Over Two Years Later, when He Was Able to Justify Convoking All Three Appleby Boys: Major (nigel), Minor (stephen) and Minimus (robert), Then a New Boy in His First Year at Stinton, Together in The Headmaster’s Study and Thrash the Lot of Them.

He had caught them himself the first Saturday afternoon of the new school year in early September, out of bounds – a definite twelve-cut beating offence for the three of them – innocently window-shopping  in the village. Not only did they not have the necessary exeat allowing them to leave the School precincts: additionally, not one of them was wearing his school cap: another offence. Sunday morning,  after chapel saw the fraternal trio, justifiably nervous, lined up outside the Headmaster’s study, where Cuthbert,  wearing his Headmaster’s hat, was almost salivating at the thought of not one, but of three, pre-lunch floggings: and to add to the uniqueness of the occasion: three brothers.

The youngest of the three, first former, Robert Appleby: Appleby Minimus, was already on the verge of tears at the thought of what was to come, as Cuthbert ushered the three brothers into his study, where the pre-lunch, triple act of carnage was about to take place. He sat, magisterially behind his desk, stony faced as ever, whilst the boys stood trembling before him.

“Gentlemen,” he began, “This is a unique occasion; never in my long career as a master at this School have we had three brothers at the same time as pupils at this School; and not only three brothers, but boys, whose illustrious father is a former a pupil of Stinton. But it goes still further; some twenty years ago, as a newly appointed junior classics master as I then was, I was privileged to assist the then Headmaster in correcting your father for a grave his misdemeanour in this very room; and moreover, bent across the back of that selfsame armchair over there, as the three of you will shortly be.”

“Appleby, Major, I am surprised at you, now a third-former aged 15, persuading your two younger brothers to accompany you on an illicit excursion into the village, where I myself caught the three of you, apparently window shopping. You, Appleby Major, as an older boy, have a lot to answer for; and make no mistake, young man, in a few minutes your bottom will answer for your actions in a painful act of retribution. As for you two younger boys; you are both old enough to know that you have to be answerable for your actions and although I am sure you were both led on by your elder brother, you too will both be punished for breaking one of the School’s golden rules.”

“I know you will think I am exaggerating, but this School acts in loco parentis and as such is responsible for your safety. Boys cannot be allowed to leave the School precincts willy-nilly, as and when they wish, without prior written permission, in the form of an exeat signed by a master. And for that reason, breaking the bounds, as you three boys have done, is viewed very seriously indeed and leads to quite severe punishment for the boys concerned as you are all now about to find out.”

“You two younger boys take of your blazers, step out of your trousers and underpants and bare your bottoms ready for punishment. Now, you, Appleby Minor, go and stand with your hands on your head, facing the wall over there, put your nose against it and remain that way until I tell you otherwise. You, Appleby Minimus, as the youngest member of the offending, fraternal trio, will be punished first. For your part in this misadventure, you will receive the standard tariff of twelve cuts with the cane across your bare buttocks. Now, boy, go and bend across the back of the armchair, hold your bare bottom well up into the air, place your hands on the seat of the chair and remain perfectly still whilst I beat you.”

“As for you, Appleby Major, for the moment, you will remain as you are and watch your two brothers being punished; it will give you time to contemplate what the immediate future holds for you personally as instigator of this unfortunate affair, before you face your own little Waterloo!”

Cuthbert turned to the trembling Appleby Minimus and laid the junior cane across the lad’s naked arse, which although Cuthbert did not know it at the time, was to undergo its maiden encounter with the cane.  Quite incredibly, the boy had survived the rigours of the Stinton Grange prep school without his buttocks ever having encountered the cane. Hence, it was not at all surprising that as he found himself about to taste the bite of the cane for the first time and within the first few days of his arrival at Stinton College, the lad’s naked buttocks twitched with the fear, even on the first touch of the cane.

It was at this precise moment, before the first stroke had been delivered, that Appleby Major made a noble attempt to save his youngest brother from the depredations of the Headmaster’s cane, which he knew from his own past experience after two years at the School, was hellishly painful. “Sir, if I may just say a word before you beat Robert, my youngest brother, Sir: it was as you have just said; it was me who persuaded him – in fact, both of them – to break the rules and go into the village without an exeat. So, Sir, as Robert has never been beaten before and as twelve cuts of even the junior cane is a lot for a first time beating, Sir, and as I am responsible for the position he now finds himself in, I would be willing to substitute myself for him and take his punishment in addition to my own, which I know I deserve, Sir. So please, Sir, beat me instead of him, Sir.”

Cuthbert saw immediately that in making this offer, Nigel Appleby was cut for the same moral cloth as his father before him; both were mischievous boys, who played hard; but when they broke the rules they were prepared, if caught, to pay for their follies without rancour. In spite of Appleby’s father’s indiscretion many years ago and the exemplary beating he had received for it at the joint hands of the then Headmaster and the newly appointed Cuthbert, he, for all his sadistic love of wielding the cane, had found himself admiring Christopher Appleby for his dignified demeanour in the face of a monumental beating. Today, listening to Christopher’s eldest son, Nigel, plead for his youngest brother, he now found himself admiring the boy, whose arse he had, nevertheless, every intention of ruthlessly roasting to a crisp in a few minutes time.

“Appleby, it is indeed a generous gesture on your part, to offer to take you brother’s punishment yourself.  However as you will shortly find out, what I have in store for you personally, will be painful enough for you to pay royally for your sins. Even as new boy here at Stinton, your brother is now old enough to face up to the consequences of his actions. He knew that he was breaking one of the golden rules of the School and must now face up to the retribution which I propose to exact from him; from all three of you, in fact. Consequently, no, Appleby Major, you may not act as a surrogate for your youngest brother, who will have to accept the twelve strokes of the cane I am about to deliver to his what you now tell me is his hitherto unsullied bottom. And I might add, that if he has the same backbone as you and your father, he would not wish you to face the music, which he has himself chosen.”

Of course, Cuthbert, who enjoyed thrashing boys’ naked arses, had had no intention of allowing Appleby Major to stand in for his brother; even more so, now that he had learned that Appleby Minimus’s arse had never been kissed by the cane. The rare opportunity to initiate a virgin arse into the one of the most painfully inescapable aspects of a public school education was, for Cuthbert, just too delicious a pleasure to be thrown away lightly.

And, of course, he was right about Appleby Minimus not wanting his brother to take his place bent over the chair. What self-respecting lad – and Robert Appleby was a self-respecting lad as all three brothers, like father, like son, were – would allow someone to step into the breach for him and take his punishment for him? To do so would paint him as a coward; and Robert Appleby may be many things, but he was anything but a coward.

He might rail against his eldest brother in private and accuse him of inveigling him into all manner of god-knows-what, rule-breaking stupidity. However, when push came to shove, as it now had, and it came to facing up to the consequences for his actions, he would always paddle his own canoe and not allow anyone else to bear the blame. Bent over the back of the armchair with the dreaded cane already resting across his virgin arse, he closed his moist eyes, gritted his teeth and waited for the first stroke ever of a cane to bite into the bare flesh of his arse. He found himself praying fervently that he would have enough sangfroid to behave in adversity like the young gentleman his father had always taught his boys to behave. He knew he deserved to be punished, but it was for him, nevertheless, easily the worst moment of his young life to date.

When the first stroke of the cane landed on his arse, it was much more painful than he had ever imagined; it was like a red-hot poker being laid across his bare flesh. But with determined stubbornness he managed to control himself. To Cuthbert’s great surprise and intense annoyance, for he did not hold back on the lad’s punishment, he was not able to draw a tear from his victim. Appleby Minimus probably did himself a disservice by not allowing himself to cry out, as it encouraged the Headmaster to even more vicious efforts with the cane in an effort to break him.

Appleby Major, who was forced to witness his youngest bother being punished, although he had several times in the past two years bared his own arse and been caned by Cuthbert,  had never actually witnessed another boy being caned.  He was shocked at the unrelenting vigour and obvious sadistic savagery verging on barbarity, with which the Headmaster, with unconcealed pleasure written all over his face, inexorably shredded his youngest brother’s bare arse.

It brought home to him, beneath that veneer of civility, what a callous, brutal bastard the Headmaster truly was. Being forced to watch his brother suffer what was ,even then by the standards of the time, an over-the-top beating for the offence committed, brought home to him the exact words the Headmaster had uttered concerning his own fate: what I have in store for you personally, will be painful enough to you to pay royally for your sins. Not usually fazed by the prospect of a beating – it was just part of  life at Stinton  to which most boys became accustomed – he suddenly felt a shiver of fear run down his spine, as he watched the Headmaster slaughtering his youngest brother’s arse. He was, for the first time in his life, fearful of what he himself might have to endure.

Finally the twelfth stroke fell and Appleby Minimus, sporting a deeply striped arse, was told to get up and make place over the back of the armchair for his middle brother, Stephen, Appleby Minor. Stephen had not been able to watch his younger brother being punished, as he had been forced to stand with his hands on his head and nose pressed against the wall whilst the Headmaster effected his mission of slaughter on Robert’s naked backside. However, Appleby Major was now forced to watch his middle brother, Stephen, being caned. Once again the Headmaster did both himself and his victim proud, as he savagely gave the lad a well-beaten arse, which, when he had finished, resembled an abstract painting.

Stephen proved an easier subject for the Headmaster to break than his younger brother and emitted cries of pain and floods of tears from the first stroke onwards. Appleby Major, watching a second beating, realised that the Headmaster was, at the moment on a barbarous high and became ever more nervous about his own fate.  But it was only when the Headmaster told his second victim to rejoin his brother against the wall that he moved into what can but be called his panic mode; his heart fell through the soles of his feet, as he was now told his own fate.

The Headmaster, again installed behind his desk, with Appleby Major standing in front of him began. “Appleby, you have been at Stinton for two full years. Looking at my records I see that in this time, I have personally beaten you on the bare, bent over that same armchair over which I have just beaten your two brothers,  no less than ten times each year, which is an all time record for any boy. Your bottom, Appleby, appears to have a magnetic attraction for the cane; you seem to be an offence looking for somewhere to take place. Your middle brother, Appleby Minor, has been with us for only one year. In that time I have had the occasion, only once, to stripe his bottom with the cane.  I don’t know if you set out with the objective of beating the yearly record for the number of times any boy has ever been caned in this School; but, by accident or design, you certainly have.”

“You, young man, are way out in front of any other boy I have ever caned in my years at this School.  You hold the all-time record for the number of times that I have invited you to present your bare bottom to me for correction, across the back of the same armchair, over which, now over 20 years ago, your father also bent to do penance for his sins. If we add to that the number of times you have been corrected by the head-boy and the other prefects for your doubtless other misdeeds which escaped my attention, I marvel, Appleby, that you have ever been able to sit down comfortably since your arrival at Stinton two years ago.”

“Appleby Major, the time has now come, as I think you will agree, for you to face up to the fact that you are a serial misbehaviour, a trait which cannot be allowed to continue indefinitely. You have already admitted that you inveigled your two younger brothers into your joint, unauthorised and misguided expedition into the village, thereby breaking one of this school’s most strictly enforced rules. I feel the moment has arrived when you must face up the fact that you need to be stopped from your apparent desire to be the most beaten boy ever in the annals of this School.”

“I, therefore, think that the time is ripe to teach you a salutary, lesson in the hope that it will put you back onto the right track. What I have in mind for you, Appleby, may seem rather drastic, which indeed it is. You should be an example of probity for your two younger brothers. Instead, what do you do? Well you persuade them into an adventure which you know full well is strictly against the rules, which has led to both of them being severely caned. In summary, you leave me with little choice but to make you pay for your continued flouting of one rule after another, ever since you first arrived at Stinton two years ago.”

“Appleby Major, like your father before you, you will first receive six strokes of the razor strap on your bare buttocks, followed by 12 cuts of the Stinton maple birch, with whose ferocious reputation you are doubtless familiar.  Following this you will bend across the back of the armchair, and with your two younger brothers watching, will be given 12 cuts of the senior cane.”

Appleby Major’s worst fears had been realised; his arse was to be well and truly shredded. Never could he have imagined when he set off into the village with his two brothers, that such an apparently minor infraction of the School rule could have resulted in such a harrowingly painful catastrophe as this. Even by the standards of the time, the three Appleby boys had been badly done by. But in those times, punishment was often severe and exaggerated and in a school, like Stinton, where there were no checks and balances, the Headmaster was king and more or less free to do as he wished. Given Cuthbert’s bent for inflicting pain on the boys in his charge, the Appleby brothers could do little other than accept their fate. There was literally no one to whom they could go and denounce the sadism of the Headmaster.

“Well, Appleby, as I see you have nothing to say for yourself in your defence and as time is of the essence and we should not go on wasting it talking.” Appleby, you will note, had not said a word during the Headmaster’s sermon. “Take of your blazer, shoes, trousers and underpants and let us move on to the action.  And you two others, if you don’t wish to experience the same as your eldest brother, keep your hands on your heads and noses pressed to the wall until I have finished initiating him into the rigorous delights of the birch; a pleasure, which if you continue on your present rule-breaking trajectory, you will both soon have the pleasure of experiencing for yourselves.”

Nigel Appleby, who had been a regular visitor to the Headmasters’ study over the past two years and had come to view the old armchair, over the back of which he would shortly again be invited to bend, almost, but not quite, as an old friend. At least bent over the back of the chair one knew what was going to get, whereas he had no idea of what to expect in the adjacent birching room, into which he had never been – until now – and where the fabled birching block was installed. The very mention of the word birch set a shiver down his spine, much as it did with every boy who was faced with encountering the kiss of the traditional implement, beloved in English public schools.

To be bent over the back of a chair, waiting for the cane to descend on one’s bare arse, is one thing; but to be invited to move into a room, dedicated to flogging the living daylights out of you, is quite another. Nigel saw, for the first time, the birching block, on which he was shortly to kneel and present his bare buttocks to the agonising kiss of the Stinton maple birch. His heart, already beating nineteen to the dozen, missed a beat at the first sight of the professionally made piece of equipment, designed purely to ensure that a boy’s bare buttocks were held firmly by retraining straps in the optimum position to be flayed.

Seen at first sight, the block was as frightening as a scaffold with the noose already in place for its next victim. Never short of courage and always prepared to pay, without rancour, for his mistakes, at that precise moment, Nigel Appleby, with his heart in his mouth, was in a cold sweat, at the thought of what was about to happen to him. He found little consolation in the fact that his father had suffered the self same treatment – and at the very same hands – as he himself was now about to experience. Vulgarly put, the lad was shit scared!  And knowing Cuthbert, who was intent on making punishment of the Appleby miscreant trio into a gala occasion of bare arse beatings, he had good reason to be.

With excessive politeness, tinged with that infuriating edge of sarcasm, which the Headmaster affected so well, he said: “Well, Appleby, now that you have observed and inwardly digested the significance and destination of the apparatus in front of you, I must deprive you no longer of what is obviously your burning desire to repeat the experience of your father. So, perhaps you would do me the honour of kneeling down on the padded surface provided and permit me to fasten the restraining straps on your wrists and ankles.”

Nigel Appleby had by now got a grip on himself and was determined not to give the sadistic sod of a Headmaster – for that is exactly how Nigel saw him – the satisfaction of breaking him, said, as he knelt on the birching block to accept his fate: “Sir, as I am a gentleman not a criminal the restraining straps will not not be necessary, as I will keep perfectly still whilst you are punishing me, Sir.” Nigel Appleby had observed and greatly admired Robert, his youngest brother, who had managed to steel himself as the cane fell with ever increasing ferocity on his bare arse and not give the Headmaster the gratification of reducing him to tears.

Robert Appleby had, somehow, succeeded in being completely impassive whilst the Headmaster applied the cane to his naked arse as if there was to be no tomorrow.  Nigel now promise himself, as he waited for the first blow to land, that he would do the same himself. How the lad would manage to keep his promise to himself, was anybody’s guess as the flogging he was he was about to undergo was incomparably worse than the caning Robert had been forced to endure.

As he knelt on the block, he glanced sideways, and a saw the Headmaster unhook the razor strop from the wall. The same strop, which, all those years ago, the previous Headmaster had used to  precondition Nigel’s father’s arse prior to applying the birch. But, the vicious strop, made of half-inch thick leather, although not breaking the skin of its victim in the way the birch or cane can, was capable of delivering extreme pain, as poor Nigel Appleby soon found out. By the time the Headmaster had applied six strokes of the strop to Nigel’s bare buttocks, the lad was already in sheer agony.

By the time he had suffered the twelve cuts of the Stinton maple birch, universally feared by the boys as the most painful of punishments at the School, one asks oneself how Nigel Appleby had managed to keep silent during such an onslaught; but, much to the Headmaster’s chagrin, the simple fact of the matter was, he had.

However, the flogging was not yet over, for Nigel still had a twelve cuts of the senior cane to face; and not only to face, but to be witnessed by his two younger brothers. As he limped towards the armchair and bent himself across its back, he deprived the Headmaster even of the small pleasure of telling him what to do. By now, the Headmaster saw that although he was clearly winning the battle, he was losing the war. Alas for poor Appleby this realisation incited the Headmaster to inflict as much pain as possible with the cane on his already well-birched arse.

But somehow, during the twelve cut caning which followed, he managed to maintain his dignity, and, watched by his two horrified brothers, made not a sound. When he finally was told by the Headmaster that he could rise from his position over the back of the chair, the lad had endured the most exaggerated, over-the-top beating ever, which was totally disproportionate for the offence committed.

Today, Cuthbert Divine would have found himself in the dock, answering to a charge of grievous bodily harm for what he had done to Nigel Appleby.  The only thing positive about this affair was that the three Appleby brothers lived to see another day, as countless public school boys had done in the past, and at Stinton, would continue to dispense birchings and canings until the end of the twentieth century, when all forms of corporal punishment were finally banned by law.

But that was another time, in which boy were more brutally treated than they are today. The Headmaster escaped unscathed from his latest, let us say, excess of zeal, with the Appleby boys, to continue,  on the same sadistic path for another twenty years. In fact he beat each of the three Appleby lads on more than one occasion during their time at Stinton. Both Appleby Minor and Appleby Minimus were to feel the dreaded Stinton Maple birch across their bare buttocks before they finally left Stinton years later. It is probable during the long reign of Cuthbert Divine as Headmaster, that among the public schools of England, more floggings were given yearly at Stinton than at any other comparable educational establishment. Depending on one’s point view, Stinton basked either in its glory as the best, or suffered the ignominy as the worst place to send one’s offspring to be educated. However, Stinton never lacked demand for places!

Chapter 21

The end of July 1948 eventually arrived and Cuthbert Divine, now aged 69 laid down his cane for the last time after giving Alexander Prescott the last of twelve swingeing cuts with his favourite senior cane and made the final entry in his personal Punishment Book, the leather-bound tome which he had purchased in 1900 when he first became a junior master and Chief Disciplinarian at Stinton. In this book he had systematically entered the name of every boy he had ever beaten, the implement with which the unfortunate victim had been punished, and the number of strokes the unfortunate victim had endured. He had very simply given each entry a number starting at 1. Of course as some boys were punished more than once during their time at Stinton, their names appeared several times: so the book recorded the number of beatings and not the actual number if individuals beaten.

With the entry of Alexander Prescott’s name, the final total of 48 years work was 7198 beatings performed by Dr. Divine; almost 150 per year. Taking this in the context of a school with around 480 pupils, each year, some 30% of the boys had the painful experience of having their arses flogged by Dr. Divine each school year. It was this sterling performance with the two rods of justice, which had contributed to, and maintained, Stinton College’s reputation as one of the strictest and most traditional of English public schools in the first half of the 20th century. It is not surprising that Dr. Divine was feared by most of the boys, both a Headmaster and Housemaster of College House. His legendary expertise with the birch and the cane was, in fact, very real, as many boys could testify.

Two days later, on the 31st July, the school year ended and Cuthbert Divine finally left the place which had been his home and workplace for 48 years. When he left Stinton, he received no thanks for his long service, having alienated, by his dictatorial nature, pretty well all of his colleagues who were finally glad to see the back of him. He had no friends either inside or outside the School, to which had dedicated his life. He moved to a small cottage on the south coast, where he led a lonely life for almost 20 years, to die alone, totally forgotten by Stinton College, where the sole legacy of his of 48 years of faithful service was his Punishment Book, which he bequeathed to the school library, where it remains till this day, gathering dust, untouched by anyone. As far as Stinton was concerned, Dr. Cuthbert Divine was totally forgotten.

As an after-note, had Cuthbert remained at the helm another two years and completed 50 years of service at Stinton, he would have seen Michael Appleby, the son of Nigel and grandson of Christopher, the third generation of the Appleby family, enter Stinton College as a member of  School House.  It would be to Cuthbert’s successor as Headmaster, to have the pleasure of introducing the young Michael Appleby to the painful rigours of life at Stinton, which given the mischievous nature of the Stinton boys, he doubtless did.