I used to teach in a private boy's boarding school in Kent.
Discipline was very strict there, yet the boys were very happy! There was honour and no boy would let his fellows suffer for his misdeeds, yet neither would a lad "sneak" on his fellows. Corporal punishment was just an accepted thing for all the boys and whilst respected, the cane was not feared by them. In the main, the painful duty was carried out on the bare buttocks of the offending boy, by the Head or Housemaster, although other teachers could do so if necessary.
On one memorable occasion, I administered a severe thrashing to a young boy who had broken bounds. It was one evening after "lights out" and I was the Duty master. Walking along a corridor, I heard a noise from a nearby room. On opening the door, I found 14yr old Allan, one of my own pupils, climbing in through a window. He was absolutely astounded to see me, as indeed I was to see him! Once he had scrambled through, red faced, I simply closed the window behind him and said "Follow me!" Of course, he did so, now looking rather pale.
I walked past the dormitories and downstairs, past the classroom area and into the Detention and Punishment room, followed by a very sick looking Allan. This room was fairly sound-proofed as it was used for the canings. The boys called it the "Grunt & Groan room" for obvious reasons and Allan had certainly visited the room on several occasions since his arrival at the school the previous year.
"Explain!", I said. "I have been to the funfair, sir" was the boy's reply. He was a small, blond haired boy, with large blue eyes, which were as large as saucers as I began telling him off for his sins. Eventually, I told him to strip for punishment and he quickly removed both trousers and underpants before going over to the punishment horse. The "horse" was a leather covered wooden gym type, with four legs which could be adjusted for the boy's height. As he stood with hands on head as instructed, I adjusted the horse before ordering Allan over it. He bent over, gripping the bar on the other side, pushing his bare bottom up and out, ready for his thrashing. Once he was in position, I walked silently to the dais and opened the high desk drawer, where the five canes were kept neatly inside the drawer. They were varied, to fit any punishment occasion. Two were long, two were short, a thick and thin one of each. The 5th was a long, whippy, ridged rattan, used for the punishment of the most serious offenders. As I inspected the canes, rattling them around, I could see Allan shuddering at the sound, his naked buttocks shaking nervously.
I selected the long, thin cane and swished it around, which clearly increased the boy's nervousness. I checked the Punishment Book, noting that Allan had been give 12 cuts only 10 days ago and, looking closely, I could just make out the fading weals. Standing to the boy's left, I firmly gripped the handle as I studied his well presented cheeks and then brought the cane down with a harsh swishing sound. The resulting "THWACK!" caused a line to appear on his bottom, White for a fleeting moment and then red as the blood rushed back.
Allan was very stoical as he took the firs six hard cuts without making a sound, apart from the odd gasp, though his tender bare bottom certainly wriggled around. At the seventh, though, he gasped out loud when the cane struck his lower cheeks. "Yeeeeeowch!" he half cried out, "That was low!" Pleased that I had, at last, gained a reaction, I aimed the next 5 hard cuts in the same area, which really set him yelping, grunting and groaning in pain, living up to the room's name. By this time, his bottom was extremely red, and the purple weals stood out very well.
In all, he took a full eighteen strokes, which left his backside extremely well marked. Allan was, however, a tough boy and really hardly ever yelped at all, although he moved from foot to foot and squirmed from side to side as the cane lashed down. Here was a boy fully used to thrashing as indeed he was, his father regularly beating him with the strap or, for serious offences, the riding crop.
He got up, very red faced and with tears in his eyes, but still with a pride in not actually having cried. He dressed and then went to his room, walking very painfully as was only to be expected after such a severe thrashing.
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