This is written as a story, written for another forum initially - it is 99% true. I can't be entirely certain on the exact words used in the conversation I had and I think it's slightly possible that over the years reliving this memory, they may mutated slightly.

I'm going to write about my first experience of 'formal' corporal punishment which happened a month or so later, if I recall it correctly.

This was 1985 and I was 10. By 1985, where I lived, corporal punishment in schools was getting unusual. It'd been banned in state run schools at the start of 1983, and the Catholic system had banned it at the start of 1985. Together, that was something like 90% of all schools, and a lot of the independent schools had stopped using it even though they weren't actually banned. Like a lot of people I thought it was illegal - at least until I got to my new school at the start of Grade 5.

This school ran from Grade 5-Year 8 (age 10-13) and was one of two preparatory schools to the state's most prestigious Catholic secondary school - even though that school was Catholic as were it's two prep schools, they weren't part of the Catholic system - they were part of the independent system. And I'd discovered very soon after starting there that corporal punishment was still in regular use when I saw a 13 year old strapped across the hand in the middle of the playground about a week after I started at the school.

Use of the strap was common and routine - though only one teacher (a Jesuit Brother) actually strapped in the middle of the playground. Year 7 and 8 boys were strapped quite a bit, generally across the hand for minor offences. Grade 5 and 6 boys were more likely to get a smacked bottom for minor things (though a hand strapping wasn't unheard of, especially from that Brother). Serious offences could lead to a more formal strapping across the bottom virtually always in private.

They gave us a certain amount of time to settle into the school - corporal punishment was only rarely used in our first few weeks at the school. The rate started to pick up midway through our first term, and I copped a spanking around that time. So did other boys and a couple even found themselves sent to the headmaster for more formal punishments - we had a female teacher who was perfectly prepared to smack or spank boys (though she didn't do it that often, but for anything that warranted a possible strapping she tended to send us up to the head. Boys tended to come back in serious distress.

Now - I was a good boy. But I could also analyse statistics, and it was becoming clear to me that the odds were that at some point I'd get the strap. And, for the most part, I was fine with that possibility - I was nervous and scared of the idea, but it was used so matter of factly that it just seemed to be something you put up with.

Start of second term - and we were into our winter uniforms, even though it could still be fairly warm. Winter uniform - grey woolen shorts that went down pretty much to your knees (especially seeing your mother hoped you'd get at least two years out of them), grey socks that came up to your knees, with a red and black stripe round the top. Grey, long sleeve button up shirt, school tie (black with red and gold stripes) and the school blazer - heavy wool, black with red piping and the school crest on the pocket. This uniform was a well known one - in summer we wore a prep school uniform, in winter we wore basically the same uniform as the senior school we would go to in Year 9 (except we wore shorts rather than long trousers). The uniform had been worn for over 60 years by this stage - people recognized it.

Now this is Australia - in mid winter this uniform wasn't too bad, but we went into it somewhere around the start of May and while that was often a cold period you could still get the occasional 25 or 26 degree day - that's Celsius, works out to about 77/78 Fahrenheit. Not the type of temperatures that made you melt - but still hot enough that you'd want to shed the jacket and tie if you could. Which you couldn't. At least not according to the rules.

But boys did anyway. And some got caught. And at our second weekly assembly for the term, the headmaster made a long speech about the importance of wearing the uniform properly and anyone who didn't wear it properly on their way to and from school would be severely punished.

A couple of days later it was hot for the time of year. Now I lived an unusual distance from the school - most boys lived reasonably locally, or at the very least on the nearby train line. Not me - I had about a half mile walk to the bus stop after school and then had to catch a bus to a train station, then a train then another bus to get home. Nobody else from the school lived in same suburb I did. Now under normal circumstances I would have followed the rules. But this day - well, it was hot, and when I got to the train station there'd been a death somewhere on the line, so everybody had to take buses along the train line. It was peak hour so the buses that were available for this additional service were old, and because I was small - and could therefore fit into a relatively small space and was also given priority by the station staff to get me home, I was crammed into one of the incredibly crowded first buses available. It took nearly an hour to get to the train station I needed to get off at. I was now really hot and really not paying attention to my appearance and I was a considerable distance from school in an area where I knew nobody from the school was likely to see me. So I stripped off my blazer and my tie, and went to wait for the bus home.

I hadn't yet learned about the intelligence network the school ran. Old boys from the school tend to remain associated with it, and also tend to value its standards - and if they see a boy from the school letting the side down they are likely to phone the school. I've done it twice myself this year actually. You might even phone one of the other similar schools if you think the behaviour of their students is bad enough. Then you add in members of the general public who like phoning the schools to complain about their boys... well, basically a lot of the things that happened outside the school came to the school's attention. And somebody saw me. And somebody phoned the school.

And I was the only boy from the school who was likely to be in that suburb at that time of day.

The next day at school - just after recess, a boy delivered a note to our class - a green slip, the type always used to summon a boy to the office.

"Dean. The Headmaster wants to see you. Off you go."

I began the long walk - my classroom was one of the furthest from the administration block of the school, but even so can't have been more than 100 metres at absolute limit from the office. Later on when I was in Grade 6 and Year 8, the distance was probably less than 30 metres. But it *always* seemed so much longer. And as I walked I was trying to think of what I might have done to be summoned. It didn't *have* to be something bad - it was not unknown for the Headmaster to summon someone to commend them on their behaviour. But you tended to think the worst.

And it didn't help that I walked past a Year 7 on his way to the toilets, who saw me looking at the slip and felt compelled to tell me not to worry because the strap didn't hurt that much.

I arrived at the office and the secretary told me to head straight on through. And I found myself in the Headmaster's office.

He was pleasant, even smiling. And I thought that was a good sign - not so, as it happened. The Headmaster was a priest and he was a very nice man, even while he punished you. He rarely got angry (but when he did, it was terrifying) no matter what a boy had done. But that didn't stop him handing out punishment.

He asked me to sit down:

"All right, Dean. I'll come right to the point. I have received a fairly serious complaint about a boy's appearance last night - and I am almost certain that boy was you. I'm going to ask you and I expect an honest answer - were you in Frankston yesterday evening in uniform and did you take off your blazer and your tie?"

"Yes, Father."

"The complaint I have indicates that your dress was appalling. That in addition to you not wearing you tie and coat, your shirt tails were hanging out, and your socks were down. Is that true."

I thought about it. "Probably, Father."

He opened a drawer in his desk and drew out a strap. A piece of leather two or three feet long, brown and smooth on one side, pale and rough on the other. It had a silver coloured ring sewn into it at one end. He walked around the desk folding the strap, doubling it over - and handed it to me. I looked at that thing and I was scared. More scared than I'd ever been in my life. I looked at that strap and I saw a weapon - a weapon that had been specifically manufactured to hurt me.

"Dean, I am going to ask you a very serious question, now. Before I do, I want you to understand this. I will not punish a boy who didn't know what he was doing was wrong. But I also expect boys to accept punishment if they deserve it, honestly. Now, Dean. Do you remember me telling everybody at assembly on Monday that they were required to wear their tie and blazer in public places and that anyone who broke that rule would be severely punished?"

"No, Father." He looked at me, looked into my eyes, and placed a hand on my shoulder. "I mean... Yes, Father, I'm sorry Father."

"Right then. Stand up."

"Dean - do your parents ever smack you?"

"Sometimes, Father."

"Have you had the strap before?"

"No, Father."

"Have you been smacked at this school?"

"Yes, Father."

As he asked these questions he took the strap from my hands and rotated me 90 degrees so I was looking out a window onto one of the football grounds.

"Bend forward and put your hands on your knees. I need to check your back pockets are empty."

I complied and I felt his hand on my bottom - on the back pockets of my shorts. At a later stage I saw him do this to a boy when I was up for a group punishment - he actually patted the pockets with the back of his hand, rather than the front and palm.

"All right. Dean. Are you ready?"

"Yes, Father."

I felt my whole body pushed forward suddenly, there was a noise I can't really classify and an explosion of pain across both my buttocks. It hurt. Tears came to my eyes. And then after about five or ten seconds, it all happened again.

I was in pain. I'd never felt anything like it. I never wanted to feel it again.

"I think that will do for now, Dean. Stand up."

Tears were running down my cheeks. The Headmaster handed me some tissues.

"It's over. You can go back to class. You took that pretty well. But understand Dean, I normally give Grade Fives three. You don't want to be back here in that situation again."

"Yes, Father."

I take the view that every tale of child abuse (be it mental, physical or sexual) by a Catholic authority figure is true.

If it happened as described, it's literally true.

If it didn't, it's a solid gold certainty that something very much like it happened to another child in another place at another time at the hands of another Catholic authority figure . . . which makes the story 'morally' true.

Just for the record, I don't consider what I described to have been child abuse in any way, shape, or form, but rather a reasonable punishment.

Unfortunately, two years later, on a Church camp, I did experience abuse by a Religious Brother - a Salesian. I know the difference.

Also, just for the record, I should say that the story has all the hallmarks of a homo-erotic bottom smacking fantasy.

The dialogue in the headmaster's office is the product of a damaged mind and simply drips the unctious love of smacking small boy's bottoms. Even if the rest of the story is true (very unlikely!), the probability that anything of the sort was said is almost zero.

Still, what does truth matter when there's masturbation to be enjoyed?

An extraordinary debate concerning Dean’s story has developed on Jennifer’s punishment_memories Yahoo Group. The most lucid comments are from Dean himself.

A bloke named Cynthia ‘I got 10 with the drilled paddle for my shirt being out of my skirt on a first offense’ has introduced a few new words to the English Language and Jennifer has declared that his schooldays were the worst of his life. Stand by for him to tell his drooling members yet again how he was spanked by the headmistress with his knickers down.

Half a pound of Mandy Rice
Half a pound of Keeler
Put 'em together and what have you got?
One sexy sheila *

It seems that posts about 1960s prostitutes and the hypocrites who made use of their services, or rhyming works, some good, some bad, will soon be the only posts welcome on this forum. This is pretty much inevitable when any person who takes the trouble to post factual information about school corporal punishment is either ignored or branded a liar in so many different ways.

I made it quite clear at the start of this topic that I couldn't vouch absolutely about the exact words used in the conversation I had with my headmaster. It's been 18 years. But everything else I described happened. It's real. It's true.

I am also of the opinion that the Priest in that story was a man who would never have used any boy sexually in any way, shape, or form. Could I be wrong about that? Sure, I could be. I don't know what lurks in the hearts of every man.

But I was the victim of sexual and physical abuse by a member of the Catholic clergy of another order - and I knew my Headmaster reasonably well - I'd lost my father a year before starting at the school, and when that started to cause me problems, this man took a special interest in me because of it. If he'd wanted to sexually abuse me, he could have. But he didn't. He acted properly at all times.

He's one of the best men I have ever met.

He did his job. He punished me in the way that was accepted at that school, and had been for nearly fifty years.

Could he have had ulterior motives? I can't rule out the possibility. But I doubt it.

And Lotta Nonsense (apt name) is in no position to make any judgement at all.

* I don't know who wrote this little verse originally - I don't want anyone thinking it's mine though. (I meant to put this in the previous message)

Dean; For what it'a worth,I believe your account of the events.If you read some of the older posts on this forum ,you will see that a lot of people were taken in by a fake headmaster and a few other fantasy writers.So there is some scepticism. If it sounds a little erotic i.e. something a perv would wank over,then you can expect to hear something from somebody. Keep posting and try to keep to the facts.