(Author Note: This is Part 2 of a 3 Part Story. The parts can be read in any order.)

The Setting: The St. Edmund's Home for Boys had been established by the Anglican Church to care for British boys from the South African colonies, many of who were the sons of British soldiers who had given their lives in overseas campaigns during World War I and World War II. By 1966 South Africa had become an independent republic no longer subject to Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II. This change did not prevent St. Edmund's from continuing its tradition of caring for boys of European descent who were in need of food, clothing, shelter... and discipline.

The Bad

Ted Swanson was practically running down the corridor of Norwood House. Actual running was forbidden, of course, unless the building was on fire or something like that. But Ted was coming as close to running as he could because he was in serious danger of being late. Since he was reporting to Housemaster's Parade, where his 14-year-old backside was already scheduled to be soundly thrashed with a long, springy rattan cane, being late did not bear thinking about.

Ted had a real problem. Recently he seemed to find himself turning up late for nearly everything. In fact that's why he was up for Housemaster's Parade in the first place - persistent tardiness from several required house/home events, including being rather obviously late for chapel last Sunday. It didn't help that Robert Sartwell, the housemaster of Norwood House, was a stickler for punctuality. The man was a real beast with the cane as well, so trying his patience by being late for Housemaster's Parade - where Ted was to be punished for persistent tardiness - would be an astonishingly bad idea.

Ted knew himself to be at least reasonably intelligent, but he just couldn't get himself organized this school year. Largely it was a problem of geometry. Not the physical geometry of St. Edmund's Home or of Norwood House, or even of Methven High School, where Ted was enrolled. The problem was the theoretical 'Euclidian Geometry' set down by some Greek nutter more than 2000 years ago. Apparently this Euclid chap had way, way too much time on his hands and spent it inventing a method of torturing schoolboys that seemed destined to remain in use for the rest of eternity.

Speaking of the geometry...errrr..geography - whatever - of Norwood House, Ted hurried around a corner and could finally see the line of boys waiting outside Mr. Sartwell's study. There were four boys fidgeting in line - Ted sincerely hoped that Sartwell hadn't started already. He slowed and then coasted to a stop behind Grant Mason, the 15-year-old who had been last in line.

Grant turned to him and said, in a hushed whisper, "You cut it close."

Afraid to speak, Ted merely nodded and shrugged, with a wan smile on his face.

At that point the study door opened and Mr. Sartwell emerged, cane in hand. He eyed the line of nervous boys waiting in the hallway. "Five of you, eh?" The man shook his head. "A housemaster's work is never done. Alright, Stringer, get inside." He pointed at the open door with the tip of his cane and 16-year-old Ray Stringer entered the study. Sartwell followed him inside, closing the door behind him.

The remaining four boys in line: Donald Van Pletzen - age 14, Neville Ashbury - age 13, Grant Mason - age 15, and Ted Swanson - age 14, all moved up a space. The boys resumed their nervous routines as they stood waiting their own turns, listening carefully for the sounds of suffering to emerge from the study.

After a few minutes the sound of voices from inside the study was replaced with the unique sound of a rattan cane splitting the air and slamming into a human backside. The sound was repeated five more times, which meant that Ray Stringer was rubbing six new stripes on his bottom when he emerged from the study a couple minutes later, gently massaging the seat of his trousers, which seemed strangely tented around front.

Mr. Sartwell followed Stringer into the hall, pointed his cane at the door, and said, "Van Pletzen, you're next." Don Van Pletzen moved through the door and was followed inside by the housemaster and his cane. After the study door was closed the remaining three boys moved up a space.

As he waited to hear the caning of his 14-year-old dorm mate, Ted wondered how many boys were being caned in St. Edmund's Home that evening. All six houses of St. Edmund's (which had each been named in honour of a British Victoria Cross winner from the African campaigns) had their weekly Housemaster's Parade on the same day at the same appointed hour. So at that very moment throughout the home's grounds there were six queues of boys waiting their turns to be caned by their housemasters. It seemed likely that between 20 and 40 "Home Boys" would be nursing freshly-striped bottoms at dinner that evening, with some of them sore enough to end up sleeping on their tummies that night.

Soon Van Pletzen had received his dose of six fresh cane stripes, the final two triggering yelps that were clearly heard out in the hallway. Mr. Sartwell was a bit boring that way. It did not appear that he ever gave a boy more or less than six strokes of the cane. In fact the only variation that Ted had heard Norwood boys discuss was whether Sartwell caned you over the trousers, or made you take them down so he could cane you on the seat of your thin white cotton underpants. Nobody Ted knew claimed to have ever been caned on the bare by Mr. Sartwell. As Van Pletzen limped away rubbing his trouser seat gently, Mr. Sartwell directed Neville Ashbury, the youngest Norwood victim of the evening, into his study.

Ted Swanson considered himself to be a connoisseur of institutional punsishments meted out to boys. An orphan, Ted had no recollection of his parents, or any other actual blood relatives who may have participated in the earliest part of his life. His earliest clear memories were from living in the St. Agnes Orphanage, which housed boys and girls from infancy up until age seven. When he turned eight Ted was sent to St. Edmund's where he lived in Kirby House until the age of 13. Then he was transferred to Norwood House, which was his senior house.

It had become painfully clear to Ted during his six years of living in St. Edmund's Home that who his housemaster was had a direct bearing on how often a boy went to bed with a sore bottom, not to mention how sore the boy's bottom was. Ted had experienced housemasters who were supportive, those who were indifferent, and those who could be downright cruel. The same could, of course, be said for the teachers he had at the schools he attended. To a lesser extent the Dorm Prefects were also important, but since they were under the direct control of the housemaster it all flowed back to how the currect housemaster ran things and his attitude towards the boys in his house.

Young Ashbury begged and fussed both before and during his caning. It appeared that he irritated Mr. Sartwell, since the boy ended up having to pull down his trousers and getting his six strokes very well laid on the seat of his underpants. The lad was howling the place down by the time it was over. As the blubbing Neville limped away, rhythmically rubbing his sizzling backside, Sartwell directed Grant Mason into the study. After the door closed Ted, who was left alone in a queue of one, stepped up next to the door.

Dorm Prefects were not allowed to use the cane, although they could of course be on the receiving end of the rattan. Prefects were allowed to punish minor transgressions in the dorm themselves, but were limited to hand spanking the boys on the seats of their underpants, or the seats of their pajama trousers if they had already changed for bed. (St. Edmund's Dorm Rules did not allow boys to wear underpants under their pajamas.) A Prefect could request permission from his housemaster to use the slipper on one or more of the boys in his dormitory. This permission had to be requested each and every time the slipper was used.

In fact the prefects rarely requested permission to use the slipper unless many of the boys in the dorm needed something stronger than a spanking. A prefect making an entire dorm bend over the foot of their beds for a dose of the slipper on their pajama seats was not unheard of, in fact Ted had been part of just such an unlucky group one night back in his junior house.

The more energetic or caring housemasters might be just as likely to personally show up in the dorm and apply any needed mass discpline themselves with the slipper, or even the cane. Prefects had to be careful in these mass misbehavior situations lest the housemaster decide that the prefect himself was part of the problem. On those occasions a prefect might find himself bending over the foot of his own bed while his housemaster made his displeasure known with sharp applications of slipper or cane to the prefectorial pajama seat.

Grant Mason's caning took surprisingly little time. There wasn't much discussion before the sound of rattan hitting boy bottom was heard through the study door. Mason took his six strokes in silence, and he was quickly dismissed afterwards. The next thing Ted knew, Mason was walking out of the study door and Mr. Sartwell was standing there pointing his cane tip at the door, directing Ted inside.

Ted stepped inside the study and Mr. Sartwell followed him, closing the door behind him. Mr. Sartwell eyed the boy from head to toe, "Swanson, is it?"

"Yes, sir," said Ted.

"You've been busy lately," said Mr. Sartwell.

"Busy, sir?"

"Too busy to show up on time for your home and house obligations," said Mr. Sartwell. "Would you care to explain your persistent tardiness?"

"I've been having trouble with my schoolwork, sir," said Ted. "Specifically with geometry."

"Geometry?" said Mr. Sartwell. "Well, I can sympathize with you there, Swanson. I struggled a bit with geometry myself when I was your age."

"You did, sir?" said Ted. He hadn't been expecting sympathy from this housemaster.

"Yes, I did," said Mr. Sartwell. "But I studied harder during prep and made it through the course in the end. It didn't stop me from being on time for my other obligations, particularly church on Sunday."

Okay, this was more like what Ted was expecting. "But, sir. I already spend so much time studying geometry... and worrying about geometry... that I don't have time for my other obligations."

"Your high school mathematics teacher should be able to assign you to a tutor - an advanced math student who can help you get through your geometry course."

"I already have a tutor sir, it doesn't seem to be helping. At least not helping enough."

"Look, Swanson," said Mr. Sartwell, clearly getting irritated. "I've been more than patient with you. Everyone here at St. Edmund's has... and the faculty at Methven High School."

"I know that, sir."

"All this tardiness has been going on for weeks, and it has to stop, now! I could have caned you for it two weeks ago, but I told your prefect we should give you another chance. Didn't Wilson have a talk with you about all this back then?"

"Yes, sir, he did," said Ted. "Wilson gave me more chores - extra housework as an alternate punishment."

"Apparently it didn't help you get your act together."

"But sir," said Ted. "I needed more time to study my geometry and catch up on my other schoolwork. I didn't need more busy work around the house."

"That will be quite enough of that, Swanson!" said Mr. Sartwell, who was suddenly fuming. "Wilson and I have been trying to get you to pay more attention to your studies and other obligations. But Wilson tells me you moon around your dorm during prep, staring off into space much of the time."

"I'm trying to figure out this geometry stuff, and work out how I'm gonna get all my other work done."

"Staring off into space won't help with either of those goals, lad! I've been lenient with you, Swanson. I now see that I've been far too lenient. Perhaps a good dose of the cane will wake you up to your obligations."

"That won't help me, sir." said Ted, on the verge of tears.

"Oh, I think it will," said Mr. Sartwell. "Years of experience have taught me that the cane is superb at focusing the attention of lazy and daydreaming schoolboys." He pointed to a spot on the floor with the tip of the cane. "Stand there, boy."

"But sir," said Ted. "I haven't been lazy. I've been working as hard as I can." Unwilling to anger his housemaster further, he moved towards the indicated spot while he said this.

"Well, Swanson, you might truly believe that you have been working as hard as you can. But I believe that this cane can motivate you to work harder. Take down your trousers."

Oh, God! Not on the underpants for a first infraction! As he unfastened and lowered his trousers, Ted said, "Can't I have one more chance, sir?"

"Of course you can," said Mr. Sartwell. "You can have as many chances as you need. My cane and I will be here to help you every week. Touch your toes, boy."

Ted began shedding bitter tears, but held his tongue, he clearly would get no further sympathy or assistance here. He bent over and touched his toes. He was startled when Mr. Sartwell grasped the waistband of his briefs in back and pulled them up tight. Clearly the man wanted to make sure his underpants were stretched tight over his buttocks while he was being caned. He wondered idly if that made the cane hurt worse. He wouldn't be the least bit surprised.

In fact the first cane stroke did surprise him! He gasped and tears began flowing immediately, both from the pain and from the emotions being released from months of dealing with his seemingly hopeless sitation. As each new stroke of the rattan bit into the seat of his underpants, Ted proceeded from gasping to yelping and finally to howling in pain.

It was all Ted could do to stay in position throughout the caning. He stamped his left foot in frustration once, but manged to stay bent over. After the sixth and final stroke Mr. Sartwell waited what seemed like a long time before saying, "That will do, Swanson. Get up."

Ted painfully straightened himself up and gently rubbed the seat of his underpants. Through his tears he could see Mr. Sartwell filling out the punishment book. Eventually he was able to carefully pull up his trousers.

Mr. Sartwell completed the punishment book entry, then turned back to Ted. "Well, Swanson, is your attention properly focused now?"

Yes! On what a moron you are! Of course all Ted actually said was, "Yes, sir."

"Very good," said Mr. Sartwell. "I expect to see you start showing up on time for required activities here at St. Edmund's."

"Yes, sir."

"You may go."

"Yes, sir." He turned to leave. "Thank you, sir."

As he slowly walked towards the refectory for dinner Ted rubbed his aching bottom and wondered if it was possible to request a transfer to a different house.

To be continued with: Housemaster's Parade - The Ugly

The author welcomes comments from readers. You can contact Bobby Watson by e-mail at: mrbwatson (at) gmail.com
Please be patient - Bobby doesn't always check his e-mail every day.