aussieboy
04-09-2007, 01:35 AM
1962
Grade 6
11 years old
"Hands out and up boy." Mr Munroe said. I put a shaking hand in front of me and he said "Two hands boy, double them" I put the other hand beneath my left hand and it stopped the shaking about a bit. He stood directly in front of me and rested the two tails of on the palm of my hand and I thought 'Oh, he straps straight on, not across the hand as others sometimes do'. The strap was dark tan in colour, about sixty centimetres long, four wide, splitting into two tails and about one thick, when he held it out, it remained horizontal it was so stiff. He lifted the strap up over his right shoulder and brought it down with an almighty CRACK which echoed in the classroom. I could not believe the agony of burning searing sting and instinctively I put my hand between my knees to try and push the pain out. "UP" I slowly put my hands up again, right hand on top this time, without any more ado the second almighty CRACK as I saw the blur of the strap tails land on my palm. I howled, hissed and stamped and tried the same squeezing between my bare legs as tears streamed down my cheeks. "Cut that out boy and get your hands up again or you'll get more".I was terrified, but more terrified of him so my left hand was uppermost as stroke three lashed down. I was a mess of tears by the time I had had my six of the best. My hands were burning, they throbbed rhythmically and they were scarlet with livid welts,which would soon bruise. My face was contorted and I was standing there, hands under opposite armpits as I was told to go back to my desk. There I just buried my face in my arms and tried to stifle my sobs.
I went off to the boys toilets, rubbing the tearstains away with the back (!) of my hands. I put them under running water but that didn't help. Almost a half hour later I was presentable and decided I obviously couldn't face a guitar class so I hung around the school gates for an hour or so to make it look as if I had done so to my parents and went home in the bus, my hands numb, sore and throbbing, a well strapped young man who had been soundly leathered and who knew he deserved it.
and
I raised my trembling hands in the double handed position, feet apart
with goosepimply legs protruding from my tight grey shorts all the
way to my grey ankle socks, and steadied myself for the first Slap
SMACKkk of the leather. Oh how it Stung. - I changed hands - WHACK
as the Headmaster brought the belt down again with his whooshing
full force.
The air was expelled out of me as I let out AAAHhh and I stamped and
hissed trying to cope with the searing burning sting. My hands were
red raw and beginning to swell as I lifted my hands again for the
third. SMACkkkkk - the force pushed my hands towards the floor and
straight between my knees. The tears were rolling down my cheeks now
and I was now reduced to pleading "please sir……..""Stop your
sniveling boy and get those hands held out." I knew that I had to
lift them for a final time - WHACK - before I knew it my hands were
underneath my arm pits as I did a jig hopping around in front of
him. "Now get back to class and apologise to Miss Fraser for talking
in class. Johnson come in here." As I stumbled down the corridor the
first smack of Johnson's strapping echoed through the school.
First form
12 y.o
Grade 6
11 years old
"Hands out and up boy." Mr Munroe said. I put a shaking hand in front of me and he said "Two hands boy, double them" I put the other hand beneath my left hand and it stopped the shaking about a bit. He stood directly in front of me and rested the two tails of on the palm of my hand and I thought 'Oh, he straps straight on, not across the hand as others sometimes do'. The strap was dark tan in colour, about sixty centimetres long, four wide, splitting into two tails and about one thick, when he held it out, it remained horizontal it was so stiff. He lifted the strap up over his right shoulder and brought it down with an almighty CRACK which echoed in the classroom. I could not believe the agony of burning searing sting and instinctively I put my hand between my knees to try and push the pain out. "UP" I slowly put my hands up again, right hand on top this time, without any more ado the second almighty CRACK as I saw the blur of the strap tails land on my palm. I howled, hissed and stamped and tried the same squeezing between my bare legs as tears streamed down my cheeks. "Cut that out boy and get your hands up again or you'll get more".I was terrified, but more terrified of him so my left hand was uppermost as stroke three lashed down. I was a mess of tears by the time I had had my six of the best. My hands were burning, they throbbed rhythmically and they were scarlet with livid welts,which would soon bruise. My face was contorted and I was standing there, hands under opposite armpits as I was told to go back to my desk. There I just buried my face in my arms and tried to stifle my sobs.
I went off to the boys toilets, rubbing the tearstains away with the back (!) of my hands. I put them under running water but that didn't help. Almost a half hour later I was presentable and decided I obviously couldn't face a guitar class so I hung around the school gates for an hour or so to make it look as if I had done so to my parents and went home in the bus, my hands numb, sore and throbbing, a well strapped young man who had been soundly leathered and who knew he deserved it.
and
I raised my trembling hands in the double handed position, feet apart
with goosepimply legs protruding from my tight grey shorts all the
way to my grey ankle socks, and steadied myself for the first Slap
SMACKkk of the leather. Oh how it Stung. - I changed hands - WHACK
as the Headmaster brought the belt down again with his whooshing
full force.
The air was expelled out of me as I let out AAAHhh and I stamped and
hissed trying to cope with the searing burning sting. My hands were
red raw and beginning to swell as I lifted my hands again for the
third. SMACkkkkk - the force pushed my hands towards the floor and
straight between my knees. The tears were rolling down my cheeks now
and I was now reduced to pleading "please sir……..""Stop your
sniveling boy and get those hands held out." I knew that I had to
lift them for a final time - WHACK - before I knew it my hands were
underneath my arm pits as I did a jig hopping around in front of
him. "Now get back to class and apologise to Miss Fraser for talking
in class. Johnson come in here." As I stumbled down the corridor the
first smack of Johnson's strapping echoed through the school.
First form
12 y.o