-
bripuk39929
-
hcj4422823
-
pi059110414
-
KKxyz3,59053
Literally millions of teen age boys were caned at school. By far the greatest number of canings in English-tradition schools was in the second half of the century after the beginning of compulsory education (circa 1870’s), mainly in the years following WW2 when the number of naughty boys in school was the greatest. The popularity suggests the cane was about right in its severity. Getting caned was generally no laughing matter but nor was it something too traumatic and damaging provided only it was used fairly.
autocorrection likes this post
-
Matt338171
autocorrection likes this post
-
PeteL1951411
The pain was definately not in my mind!
PeteL1951 wrote:My recollection is that it certainly did hurt. I got caned twice on the hands at primary school and my hands felt red hot. I got six canings at senior school and all on the bottom. I well remember how painful the first stroke always felt. Sitting down was painful those days and made worse by the hard wooden chairs or benches.The pain was definately not in my mind!
Dick Templemeads
It stung to start then throbbed for several hours and the marks lasted about 1 week. But worse than the pain was waiting touching toes trousers round ankles while the head took an age to select his weapon.
-
bripuk39929
I would question its authenticity as the phraseology used is clearly American where as far as I know the cane is/was not used as the preferred implement of discipline.
What does being caned feel like?
Cornay Gibson, Project Manager
Answered Tue
The year was 1979 and my best friend and I had just cheated on an exam. For our efforts we got the notorious 6 of the best.
We were pretty cocksure that we were one up on the teacher but we were wrong — very wrong. She called us to the front of the classroom gave us both a tongue lashing, in full view of my first crush. Oh the shame.
From a time when political correctness and other modern day get-out-of-jail-free-cards were unheard of, we were ordered to the Principal’s office. Another verbal onslaught followed and then the Principal walked past us to an oak cupboard.
The Principal turned around and presented a pale yellow cane. He bent it a few times and then skillfully flicked it a couple of times.
The principal told me to stand up and commanded me to bend over the comfy leather chair that had just massaged my ass. My brain was screaming why the bloody hell did I have to go first? My mind was now racing, thoughts blended into gibberish. Just days ago my favourite weed smoking uncle had gone all Lao Tzu on me with a quote “You can only know what you want in life, when you know what you don’t want!”. Well yeah, I did not want to be bent over this bloody chair right now!!!
My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the same ‘schweep’ sound I had heard mere minutes before. Another followed but I did not feel it. A possible explanation could be that I had clenched my glutes to the same pressure that produces industrial grade diamonds plus the fact that I tried to act all Alpha in front of my mate.
The third shot rang my bell though. You asked what being caned feels like and I can go on record here by saying it probably feels like a thousand wasps that had just stepped on Lego blocks, all darting your backside en masse . The fourth shot felt like those same wasps being a little more pissed as their situation had compounded by them also having forgotten their Instagram passwords.
The last two shots landed on numb cheeks. I was now involuntarily crying. I did not care that my friend could tell the world. Just when I thought things could not get any worse, a pain emerged from somewhere deep within. This pain orininated from six lines on my rump, having torn through all the layers of my skin, but one. This was what the word excruciating pain means by its intrinsic definition.
My friend received his jacks and the rest of the day was a buffet of embarrassing remarks, more pain when sitting and just hours that did not conform to the standard sixty minutes.
The real pain however had its way with me at home. This was where I had to hide the reason and my red derriere from my parents.
Now, if you think that I learned a lesson that day, your thinking would be filed in the Erroneous Department.
After all, I am Cornay Gibson. The Patron Saint of the phrase “I was just a dumbass kid”…
-
hcj4422823
I would just leave the forum members with one thought – have you ever tried “clenching your glutes” when you are bending over?
-
juames12312