Disruptive pupil ordered to see headmaster.

He'd never expected at anytime that he, of all boys, would ever be told to go and report to the headmaster, That itself was quite rare for any schoolboy, and what he'd done had hardly warranted it. Th story was that sometimes, though by no means always, it  resulted in a caning on the backside. That had intrigued him, as it had most others. The majority of them would return from the ordeal with having only had a severe verbal scolding which, of course, didn't change them one iota. But those few that had received the actual physical punishment always came back displaying mock pain, holding their rear ends, but carrying a wide grin on their faces. One time he managed to get one of these properly caned boys aside and asked him confidentially what it was really like. Did he have to lower his trousers - and, most importantly, how badly did it hurt? As he asked these questions he was aware of a stirring down below in his pants, which he kept from showing. Yes, they'd had to bend over with trousers down - as well as underpants. But did it hurt? Nah, not much. The first couple of strokes stung a bit, but knowing that he'd stop at six made the rest just about bearable. So now he knew. The thought of ever being on the receiving end of one of these sessions was quite, well, 'exciting' - his cock was at 'semi' just thinking of it. But it was most unlikely that he'd ever fall into the category of one of those that got to actually experience it. Unlikely, that is, until this day...........

The shouted words telling him to see the headmaster came as a shock to him, a bolt from the blue. When he heard it his cock jerked, though as he slowly sidled his body up the stairs to the master's office he was telling himself that what he did would never call for an actual caning. Surely not!

Immediately after he'd sheepishly knocked on the heavy oak door, he heard the order to enter - and saw the man himself, stern and sitting behind his desk - in an obviously foul mood. He was told to relay the details of his bad behaviour, which he did in soft, sorry-sounding tones, stuttering a bit. The headmaster sat there in silence till it was all out. 
"I see" he said. "And what do you think you deserve for this? Eh?" 
Silence.
"I asked you what I should do?" 
"Dunno, Sir"
"Do you want a caning?"  
(What? -"Want?" - What a strange word! But it made his cock twitch. No, it was more than a twitch. Fuck! It was on the rise!)
Inside, he'd really wanted to answer 'YES!" but that was out of the the question. Christ! A creeping bulge was beginning to show. He thrust his hands deep into his side pockets to hold it down.
"Hands out of your pockets! And stand straight!" The order was barked!
He had to obey - and reddened as he looked down and saw what was happening. Shit Almighty! He needed somehow, anyhow, to keep it down.
"Stop fidgetting!"
Then it seemed to dawn on the headmaster.
"Just what is going on with you?" 
And then came the fatal words.......
"Drop your trousers!"
He hesitated.
"I said DROP YOUR TROUSERS, BOY!!!"
He slowly, reluctantly, undid the belt, and let his pants slide all the way down. 
"And the underpants!"
.........."and undo your shirt......"
And there he was, all naked at the front with a raging horn on, exposed to the one man he never dreamed he'd have to expose himself to - or was that really true? 

The headmaster didn't utter a single word. He looked at the boy thoughtfully, silently. He recognised what was happening - and he now had one mighty dilemma. If he gave the boy the caning he deserved he'd be conniving in giving him the satisfaction he so obviously craved, that much was obvious. But if he didn't chastise him in the usual physical fashion he'd be chickening out - and when the boy told the others, as he was certain to, that although he'd had to lower his pants he wasn't caned at all, his reputation for harshness would be gone. He might even be mocked as being a paedo! What in Hell's name should he do? Only one realistic possibility presented itself. He could give him such a vicious and sustained caning as he'd never before administered (Hang the maximum of six!) till the excruciating pain drove out any possible sensation of the boy being 'stimulated' or enjoying the experience.  (Too bad if he yelled out for mercy with his cries echoing down the corridors, as was highly likely. He could cope with that. Even of he drew blood. So what?). He'd get renewed and increased respect, even through fear, from the boys. Yes, that's what he must do. 
He told the boy to bend over and hold onto his desk, waiting till he'd fully done so. Then in order to reach for the cane which was kept handy, standing in the corner, he got up beyond the view of the head-bowed, quivering boy (though was he shaking with excitement?) still with that blazingly prominent, reddishly throbbing, shiny-headed erection, and took the cane. Coming up to the young bare-arse, he tucked the shirt-tail up inside so as to reveal the boy's completely exposed backside, - and, ensuring that the bulge in his pants of his very own raging hard-on was outside of the boy's view, he took a deep breath. Then.......THWACK!!!!...................