AD 2022: Welcome Back Cane & Birch!

Early that afternoon the Colonel went down to the lower level where the young offenders were all waiting to be punished, He found his two Disciplinarians ready and waiting in the punishment room. They were dressed for the occasion and looked muscularly frightening. Each of them wore a well cut, sleeveless, torso-hugging vest emblazoned with his name, Vickers or Cromwell; their splendid pectoral and stomach muscles were emphasised to perfection. Their trousers were moulded to the contours of their buttocks and the crotch was cut to emphasised the all-important genital package that each young man clearly had between his legs. Finally, they each wearing a pair of those soft leather boots of the type that boxers wear in the rink. All in all, the two young men looked stunningly sexy and the Colonel felt a stirring between his own legs just looking at the pair: Oh if only he were younger! From the point of view of the young offenders whose arses they were about to thrash, they probably looked frighteningly menacing; as ever beauty was in the eyes of the beholder! The Colonel, however, was delighted with his choice for the two young studs (that was exactly how he thought of them: young studs) had every appearance of being exactly right for the job at hand. he could barely wait to see them in action.

The four young lads who were awaiting the cane, had been brought from the holding cells fully dressed and were seated on a bench in the in the corridor, supervised by two young policemen, but otherwise totally unrestrained. It was for all the world like a scene from earlier in the twentieth century, with public school boys lining up outside the headmaster's study, waiting to have their backsides beaten for some offence or other. But the difference was that those early public school boys were fully conversant, if that is the word, with the cane and the pain it produced; these boys in the early twenty-first century had no experience at all of corporal punishment as it had been abolished long before they had been born. This afternoon's event was to be an eye-opener: a painful encounter with the new reality; it would be a horrible shock for all of them. Unless someone has actually felt a well applied rod across one's own naked arse, one has no idea, no idea at all, of just what a painful business a caning can be; but the first of the lads was just about to find out.

The bailiff arrived with the charge sheet and checked that the punishment room and its "staff" were ready. Whilst he was in the room one of the two supervising officers asked the four lads if they would like to go and have a pee as the fatidic moment was arriving and he knew full well the effect that such an event could have on anyone awaiting punishment. He told the lads to go and use the lavatory if they wished in order to avoid the embarrassment of wetting themselves when they were finally being beaten; all four took his advice and relieved the pressure on their bladders.

The bailiff returned, stood before the seated lads and reading from the charge sheet, said: "Arnold William Elliot, stand up. You have been sentenced to twelve strokes of the cane by this Court and the punishment will now be carried out. Step lively lad, and get into the room there." Elliott, the first of the four to go to his "execution" disappeared into the punishment room and the door was closed behind him. But the simple fact of the announcement that the first of the beatings was about to take place, had an electrifying effect on the other three lads waiting to be called. They had all been hoping against hope that something would happen and that they would escape; that the sentence had been just a bad dream. But now that the first of the four had gone into meet his fate, what had until then been their false hope, evaporated. Not surprisingly they were now all trembling and in a cold sweat with fear of the unknown; an unknown with which they were very soon to become painfully well acquainted.

The two Disciplinarian had decided between themselves how things would be arranged on this their maiden appearance wielding the rod of justice. Vickers looked at Elliot and said: "Right lad, shoes, socks, trousers and underpants all off and bend across the back of the chair here."

Now this was the first horrible shock for Elliott as he had had no idea until then that he was going to be beaten on his bare arse. "You don't mean that you are going to cane me directly on my bare bum do you? I think that that is completely indecent and I refuse to accept it; there must be some mistake and there has to be a law against it. And besides I think it is totally wrong to me made to stand here showing "my private parts" (such delicate language from a young offender) to everyone; as I said it's indecent."

Vickers looked beadily at him and replied: "Look here young man, you are not here to negotiate terms; you will be beaten according to the rules laid down by this Court, which dictate that all punishments be applied to an offenders naked buttocks, so just resign yourself to the fact, young man, that you are going to get your naked arse beaten. And to set your mind at rest, we are not at all interested in your private parts as you call them, but merely in your buttocks. So I repeat what I have just ordered you to do. Take off your shoes, socks, pants and underwear and bend across the back of that chair. You now have ten seconds to comply after which, I you still insist in disobeying us, we shall strip you completely naked and put you across the chair ourselves. Is that clear enough lad?"

Poor Elliott, and who would not have some feeling for the lad, for it was truly a painfully horrible prospect which faced him, finally acquiesced and did as he had been told. Vickers fixed his wrists to the seat of the chair with the leather straps and cranked up the back so that Elliott's feet were just about leaving the floor. As such Elliott was fully restrained in the perfect position to be caned. In spite of his complaints about exposing his private parts, his shirttails front and back had hidden pretty well everything from view until now. Vickers tucked the lad's shirttail back under the back of his shirt to expose his buttocks; and well worth exposing and even admiring they were. Elliott was a strong lad and had a very well-muscled and rounded pair of buttocks: virgin buttocks, hitherto untouched by a cane and presenting the most perfect target for Cromwell who was now brandishing a very flexible well knotted senior cane. In fact, Elliott was offering them, quite by chance a dream pair of buttocks to beat. The Colonel had looked on approvingly at the proceedings so far and admired the firmness of Vickers' in quashing Elliott's complaint. Here was a marvellous opportunity for Cromwell to cut his teeth in his first attempt in the application of the cane; and was not to be disappointed.

"Relax your butt muscles and brace yourself, lad, as this is going to hurt. You will now receive twelve stroke of the senior cane across your naked buttocks, as laid down by the court." With that, Cromwell laid the cane gently across the midpoint of the lad's naked backside. tapped it gently on his unblemished skin a few times before raising it high above his head and bringing it down with extreme precision exactly in the middle of the lad's arse. The cane made a tremendous crack as it mated with its target: a crack audible to the three other lads seated outside awaiting their fate. Elliott took a deep breath and then, a split second later when he felt the excruciating pain of the cut, he let out a loud cry of agony. The cane which Cromwell had selected was long and flexible and its free end wrapped itself around Elliott's far buttock, thereby imparting pain to the lad's flanks, which ensured that he that he got full value from his tormentor. The Colonel saw that, beginner or not, Cromwell had delivered a stinging first blow and had raised an angry welt, which was already turning bright red.

Like a seasoned professional, Cromwell waited about ten seconds to allow Elliott fully to appreciate the excruciating pain the simple cane had delivered, before bringing it down again a second time in a cut exactly parallel to his maiden stroke; again perfectly judged and delivered, this second cut produced an even louder roar of pain from Elliott, pain which he could amply appreciate to the full as there was again a pause of ten seconds or so before Cromwell continued with his mission. And then at ten second intervals, Cromwell delivered a series of four parallel cuts, gradually progressing up the lad's arse towards the bottom of his back. By the time he had finished his six stroke delivery Elliott was howling loudly and begging him to stop, which in a way he did, as he now handed the cane over to his partner, Vickers. By this time with the energy Cromwell had put into his work he was sweating profusely and in one gesture, pulled off his sweat soaked vest exposing his magnificently bronzed, muscular torso. The Colonel was beside himself with delight at this act with its homoerotic overtones and had a hard time in controlling himself as he was sexually aroused by what he had witnessed.

As Cromwell handed over the cane, there was a few seconds pause in the proceedings and for a brief moment Elliott probably thought that his prayers had been answered and that the beating was to be curtailed to the initial six strokes. Alas he was soon to be disappointed, as Vickers now positioned himself on the other side of the young offender and applied the cane back-hand with just as much vigour and precision from that side as had Cromwell. From his opposing position, he saw the welts on the lad's right flank and now placed six matching wrap-round cuts on the left flank of the lad's buttocks. By a miracle of precision, which drew the Colonel's admiration, the two young men between them had succeeded in applying all twelve cuts neatly parallel with no overlapping at all from top to bottom of Elliott's arse.

By the time the beating was over, some five minutes had elapsed and Elliott was still stretched over the chair was in utter agony. The two young men had succeeded in giving him probably the most thorough beating possible with a cane, without actually drawing blood, although several of the cuts were on the edge. Cromwell undid the straps on Elliott's wrists and allowed him to stand up, which he did with great difficulty. He was told to put back on his clothes and that he could then leave as he had discharged his punishment and there was no need to detain him any longer. But the poor lad was so sore with the beating he had received that he asked if he could go back to the holding cell where he had waited and rest for a little while, a wish which was granted by the Colonel.

Elliott was so very sore that he could not bear to pull back on his underwear and trousers immediately; and so, all concern for the indignity of exposing his "private parts" to all and sundry now forgotten, he left the room carrying his clothes and made for the comfort of the cell, giving the three waiting lads a fine view of his backside. To put it crudely, but very graphically, when they saw Elliott's arse which by now was colouring up in red and blue, with all twelve stripes clearly visible, the three of them were metaphorically shitting bricks; but more concretely one of them did wet himself with fear of what was to come.

The Bailiff read out the name of next defendant on the list, confirmed his sentence of twelve cuts of the cane and said: "In you go lad; be quick about it. We've still a lot to get through yet." So all three offenders were treated in exactly the same Elliott and all of them left the Court premises with agonisingly painful backsides and greatly humbled. By the time all four lads had been beaten, Vickers had also abandoned his vest and the two young disciplinarians stood there naked to the waist looking like two Greek Gods; at least that is what that connoisseur of the naked male figure, the Colonel thought. In fact, in his heart of hearts, the Colonel would have been happy to see the two young studs strip completely naked to perform their duties; he would have been happy to heighten the homoerotic aspect which beating of naked arses arouses in so many.

But now was what the Colonel had labelled in his own mind "the main event of the day": the exemplary (a word that the Colonel relished) punishment of Thomas Makin, prior to his transfer to a state reformatory for two years. As Makin, a serial offender, had been convicted of theft with grievous bodily harm and as he had grossly insulted the Colonel verbally, resulting in a large increase in the severity of his sentence, he had, until now been confined to a separate cell. He was now brought by the two supervisory police officers, each holding one of his arms, to the door of the punishment room, where the bailiff read out his punishment. Cocky to the last, Makin let out another stream of filthy abuse aimed at anyone and everyone as he was led into the room. He had not seen any of the four previous lads who had been beaten earlier and had no real idea of just what a horribly painful fate awaited him in just a few minutes. If he was surprised to see the two young Disciplinarians stripped to the waist waiting for him, his executioners so to speak, him he did not show it.

Following the Colonel's verbal instructions, which were aimed at stripping any dignity from Makin, Vickers said: "Right lad, strip of and be quick about it, Put your clothes on the bench over there."

This instruction was met by a torrent of verbal abuse from Makin, again peppered with swear words and filth, which concluded in his saying: "So you can fuck off the bloody lot of you; I am not stripping off for anyone and you won't make me, so stuff that up your arseholes for a start."

This was typical of the lad's style but Vickers and Cromwell retained their calm whilst Vickers repeated the order and then added that either Makin strip off himself or they would do it for him. Makin was spitting bricks by this time and in a torrent of vile invective, again flatly refused to obey. Now he was a well set up muscular lad, but had he given the matter the slightest thought, he would have seen that he was not a match for the two young studs who were about to thrash him. Vickers looked questioningly at the Colonel who simply gave a slight nod of approval. Makin did not then realise what had hit him. Cromwell went behind him and pulled his shirt off over his head then grabbed him around the waist allowing Cromwell to pull of the lad's shoes and socks; in quick succession his belt was undone and his pants were off and the lad stood there naked apart from his briefs.

"Now," said Vickers, "either you drop your briefs and show us your package, or we do it for you; the result is the same; it's up to you."

Defiant to that last, Makin said: "Fuck you; fuck this bloody court; fuck the police, fuck the lot of you." This tirade would have gone on, but Vickers who was still behind Makin simply grabbed the lad's briefs and wrenched them down, giving everyone present a fine view of what proved to be a massive package: Makin, though only eighteen years old was already hung like a horse with balls to match. As it was clear that Makin would cooperate on nothing, the two studs grabbed him by the arms, dragged him to the birching horse, where they strapped his ankles and wrists firmly in place; all this was accompanied by a continuous outburst of diarrhoeal verbal abuse from Makin. Finally, with the lad now totally immobilised, but not verbally, Cromwell cranked the mechanism to adjust Makin's arse to the precise position and degree of tension for birching.

The Colonel spoke quietly to his two studs, and said: "This is unknown territory for all of us, with this new cable birch, which looks like a very potent instrument; so what I suggest is that you being with eight strokes of the 2mm calibre birch and that we then change to the 4mm calibre for the remaining seven cuts. And then with what, let us hope, is an evenly well birched backside, you can overlay with nine cuts of the cane to give the lad a well striped arse to show to the Warden of the reformatory where he is to spend the next two years of his life. I intend this to be one of the most painful beatings ever and I can think of no one who is more deserving of it than this foulmouthed delinquent. Perhaps after he has felt the pain of this first encounter with the birch he might mend his ways, but I would not bet on it, from what I have seen to date. So go to it and don't hold back; if you break the skin so be it. Makin has got to be made to suffer for his actions and the new law has given us the means to achieve that objective for the first time in over twenty years. Thank goodness that the government finally came to its senses and realised that this lawlessness had to be stopped."

Cromwell picked up the 2mm birch swished it through the air which separated its six separate strands. Placing himself on Makin's left, he raised the birch into the air and brought it down for the first stroke with all the force he could muster. The birch strands separated into a broad fan as they mated with Makin's arse and in one stroke covered about a quarter of the target area. The crack was frightening and Makin, in spite of his recalcitrance and braggadocio manner let out a sharp cry of pain. Then, with several seconds pause between each successive stroke, Cromwell went on systematically and methodically to cover the entire area of Makin's buttocks with the birch. Makin's protests became ever louder with each successive stroke until he was finally begging for mercy. By the time Cromwell's ministrations were over, Makin's backside and right flank were totally covered with the small cuts left by the birch; the cable birch was certainly a splendid instrument of punishment, but Makin's ordeal was yet far from over.

There was a now a pause of a minute or so, after which Vickers took up the punishment with the 4mm cable birch, If the lighter instrument had been painful, this heavier grade version took pain to a totally different level and Makin sobbed and howled as stroke after stinging stroke landed on his already searing arse. When Vickers had finished, Makin's backside was a reddened expanse of small welts, some of which were oozing a little blood where the skin had been broken as each strand of the birch had landed on his naked flesh. It was hard to imagine a more severe punishment, but the Colonel felt that this young tearaway deserved all he was getting.

But it was not yet over, as Cromwell now picked up the cane and completed Makin's penance by given him nine parallel cuts across his already throbbing backside. When it was all over, Makin's arse was what might be considered as a bench mark of serious corporal punishment: an example by which all future beatings would be judged. The Colonel saw that his two young protégés, his two studs, had nothing at all to learn in the art of applying the cane and the birch, Makin's arse was now deep red all over and lined with nine neat deep welts of the cane, already turning a purplish blue, with spots of blood punctuating the scene. As he looked with admiration at a job well done, the Colonel thought that if Makin did not now see that he had to mend his ways he was mad.

By this time the Colonel need to relieve his own sexual feelings which had steadily built up to a climax over the past hour, so much so that the felt if he did not escape to the privacy of his own quarters, he would ejaculate into his trousers there and then. And so he discharged the bailiff and told his two studs to clear up, help Makin get dressed and when ready, hand the now sobbing lad over to the two officers to take him back to his cell. "Do whatever you now deem necessary," he said to the two, giving them a knowing look which said all.