Friday, January 27, 2023

Prize Day – Year LXXXIX

By the time she’d stopped stroking, the French failures had long-since left….whoever they’d been. It was impossible to concentrate on anything whilst being edged effortlessly….other than feelings of floating. “Next up, if you please,” said The Headmaster, “and do not be shy, bad boys and guilty girls….” more laughter intervened, “….it is Biology, for which Mr Basil Sileas Crabbe will do the honours.” He saw BSc stand, and flex his fingers in readiness for the awards. There was loud applause as the six winners all appeared on the Podium, with Lynda standing second in line. “I want to watch these, Silly,” he whispered, “so can you give me a brief break?”


She let him loose. “Uhhh,” he moaned as she scratched his sensitive scrotum with her long nails. “We’ve the Little Red Ridinghood who’s received the rattan on the rear already for two terms,” he announced, “from dorm 1X, in The X-Men….” hadn’t they been some sort of ancient comic characters? “….we have….Watson, Winkler.... ….” the way he’d swaggered across the stage whilst strutting his shaft SURELY meant he was made for The X-psers of dorm 5X in four years’ time? They had personality, poise and panache, “….for The Yellow Perils and dorm 2J….” The Junirs, “….we have Hallows, Vera….” he paused, “….who has the herbal nickname of Aloe Vera….” loud laughter, and he caught coarse comments, “….’ullo, Vera….” from somewhere further in front, “….for The Little Girls in Green, from dorm 3F, and actually for the second year in succession….we have Pusey, Gail….” The little fuckers….and one for which he’d be doing the deed with a conjugal call. Since she was now in his Cute Cunt Calendar for Forward Fornication,


“Well, bad boys,” commented The Interrogator, “do we not all enjoy pussy galore?” There was loud, lewd laughter….from the same jibe as Year LXXXVIII, “….for the Brownies and dorm 4B, we have….de Ville, Christina….” she was seriously svelte and short in stature, with a irresistible impish grin, impossible to ignore, “….which is The Balls Busters, bad boys,” added Iain Terrence Hayter obliquely. “Ohh,” he heard from several sources, and it was obvious many mere males were unconsciously cradling their crotches, “….for our Babe In Blue, dorm 5P….” The Pliants, “….and the same stable as Shagger….it’s Shagton, Lynda….” there was prolonged applause, “….and finally our prize winner In The Pink….is Bottomley, Horatio….” another of the various brothers, “….of dorm 6C….” the six canees, the fourth and final CP dorm, “….present your posteriors, and bottoms UP.” He recalled standing in a line like this, having won the same prize last year.


Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk    Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk    Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk 

“Yeee..EEEE..HEEE….THREE,” yelped Wanker Watson, “thank you for my prize, SIR.” Presumably his parents would be proud….or not?


Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk    Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk    Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk 

“Yeee..HEEE..EEEE….THREE,” yelped Aloe Vera, “thank you for my prize, SIR.” 


Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk    Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk    Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk 

“Yeee..EEEE..EEEE….THREE,” yelped Pussy Galore, “thank you for my prize, SIR.” 


Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk    Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk    Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk” 

“Yeee..HEEE..HEEE….THREE,” yelped Cruella, “thank you for my prize, SIR.”  


Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk    Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk    Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk 

“Yeee..EEEE..HEEE….THREE, thank you for my prize, SIR,” yelped Lynda.  


Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk    Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk    Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk 

“Yeee..HEEE..EEEE….THREE….” yelped Hot Bot. “Stand up,” said BSc, “acknowledge the Chair, and away you go.” They arose to yet more applause, the bad boys bowing towards his Aunt, the guilty girls curtseying. Then they disappeared down the spiral staircase. “UHHH,” he moaned as Feely Ceely starting stroking his straining shaft all over again. 


Once again he was away in a euphoric haze where everything was wonderful. “Ahhh,” he gasped as five nails suddenly dug deep into his nuts. “You’re on in a second, Shagger,” she whispered. “This concludes all the prizes for year LXXXVIII,” said The Headmaster on cue, “so may we please have all our birchees….?” he arose, and padded forward past his appreciative audience, together with the further five floggable felons. Then they ascended the Podium, and approached the Block, as The Smith Sisters stepped out from the ranks of the Staff, “….it is standard practice to record birchings for posterity….and The Camera Club….” who’d enjoy watching them at their monthly meetings, “….for which Mr Sileas Crabbe will oblige….” he gestured towards Silage, who’d since set up his equipment facing the Podium, “….I understand it is to be a dozen due from Missus,”  


He knelt on the first step, and bent forward over the top one with his hands on the floor. Now his arse was in the air for the application of all agonies. He turned his head towards the Governors, and smiled sweetly at his Aunt Marge. It was with the so-called swishees’ smirk, often offered by culpable canees in class, as a prelude to public punishment. It was the one which says wanly, ‘Hell….I’m about to be hit hard, and my hiney will hurt horribly,’ and absolutely apt for the action. “Exposure and exhibitionism doesn’t get much better than this,” mused Poke Her. “A neat little bottom,” she muttered, “simply Asking for the birch.” So another two dollars for his collection of when it was complimented. Sir Digby Vaillance, seated beside her, nodded knowingly. Brenda Smith picked up the instrument of posterior pain, and held it against his hiney. “In sets of threes, Davy,” she said sternly. 

SWISHHCRACKK “….OWW,” SWISHHCRACKK “….OWW….”  SWISHHCRACKKK “….OWW..Whacko! MA’AM,” he gasped. “For anyone who has not previously witnessed a birching over the Block,” said Iain Terrence Hayter, “Shagger has the protocol quite correct, since it is essentially the rather rare Rapid Responses. There is no cut count, salutation or affirmation of appreciation, although contrition at the close is welcome. The wonderful word Whacko! is used the world over, and its common contention is: Please Hit My Hiney Hard….” he paused, “….do continue, Missus….I am sorry to interrupt.” SWISHHCRACKK “….OWW,” SWISHHCRACKK “….OWW,” SWISHHCRACKKK “….OWW..Whacko! MA’AM.” HOW his hiney hurt, yet they were only halfway….SWISHHCRACKK “….OWW,” SWISHHCRACKK “….OWW,” SWISHHCRACKKK “….OWW..Whacko! MA’AM.”  


Somehow, the noble knight was now stroking Aunt Marge’s skirt suggestively, although she was making no objection. Rather the reverse, since she was holding his hand between her legs….SWISHHCRACKK “….OWW,” SWISHHCRACKK “….OWW….”  SWISHHCRACKKK “….OWW..Whacko! MA’AM,” he gasped, his heart somehow singing even as his shaft strained. “Next,” said The Headmaster, “Shagger will suffer Six For Sex from Miffy Smiffy. She will not be excluded from his fucking favours in the future, since she hopes to be a part of their ménage at University….” A-Levels assuming, “….which is actually à-cinq.” There were gasps from all around the hall….SWISHHCRACKK “….OWW….” SWISHHCRACKK “….OWW….”  SWISHHCRACKKK “….OWW..Whacko! MA’AM.” The Smith Sisters swished similarly, in addition to screwing….SWISHHCRACKK “….OWW….” SWISHHCRACKK “….OWW….”  SWISHHCRACKKK “….OWW..Whacko! MA’AM….I love you both so much.” There was another huge round of applause.  


“Arise, Shagger,” said The Headmaster, as he duly did so, “….we have seen some seven inches of circumcised sin, however next on our agenda is Wanker Boy Will, with eight of erotic enjoyment….” more mirth, as William Shanks took his place, “….first, he will suffer six slow strokes from Mr Alixander Fall.” SWISHHCRACKKK “….AHH..Whacko! SIR,” SWISHHCRACKKK “….AHH..Whacko! SIR….” proudly, and with what he hoped was personality, poise and panache he paraded off the Podium….with a perpendicularly pulsing penis. As his prefect peer’s punishment progressed, he agreed how Hercules Poke had been quite correct with his earlier contention. He smiled as he passed his parents, then the Watsons and Joneses….who seemed to have swapped spouses.  


Finally he reached his seat, and saw it was occupied. “Shall we go, Shagger,” said Saucy Harry, “since I’ve seen sufficient swishing, and it’s time for you to take tool and testicle torment….” Oops….as she arose and put an arm around his waist. They continued to the back of the hall, where Dirty Harry awaited them, “….the tour didn’t finish until late, by which time all seats had been taken. I was able to use Cuck, on his hands and knees, but then yours became available.” They passed the double doors, and started into the first of the long, dark cold corridors. “I should have been sent to St Sticks,” mused Harry Callaghan, “they know how to humiliate and humble here….and hit hineys hard.”  


Spoken as a true subbie. “I suggest your better half calls Sue Sweet,” he suggested, “and asks if there’s a slot for a Shagger’s Schoolday Sojourn, sometime. They’re for invitees to sample St Sticks on Arrival Afternoon, and the following first full day of term….including lessons. It won’t be with me, since I’ll have long since left, but perhaps with my protégé Harry Herbert Orwell.” He smiled widely. “Thank you, Shagger,” he said, even as Saucy Harry’s hand drifted down to his derrière. “Ohh….ohh,” he moaned as she started to stroke his stripes. 


Several minutes later they reached the entrance hall for the Prefects Study wing. “I’m afraid it’s a long trek,” he said as they started up the empty echoing stone steps. Most unusually there was no distant discipline to be heard, since almost everyone else was otherwise occupied in the main assembly hall. “I’ll go first, Shagger,” she said, “then you can do some Straying Up Skirts….which doesn’t include you, Cuck.” Her husband gave him another look of loathing. “It’s not fair, Ma’am,” he said sulkily, “you never give me these treats.” They rounded the Level 1 landing, and started up the second. “I may have mentioned one of the school’s unwritten rules,” he said as he strayed suitably, noting there were no naughty knickers. “Ohh….ohh….you really RUDE wretch,” she moaned as he fondled her fetching fanny, “I’ll get your gonads good for garters.”  


Promises….but again, who’d asked whom? “I’ve an interesting box of tricks to show you in my study, Ma’am,” he said, “which should be straight up your street.” There was a soft snigger. “It makes a change from etchings….or production statistics, Shagger,” she replied wryly, as they reached the Level 6 landing. “This….huhh….marks a mathematical construct of my own making, Ma’am….” he huffed slightly as they started along the gloomy corridor, “….it’s called the Cunt At Infinity….” there was a sniff from Dirty Harry behind him, “….representing a destination desperately desirable in the distance, but utterly unattainable.” Clearly the concept resonated inside his sinful psyche.  



“It’s something with which I suffer most of the time, Shagger,” he said sourly, “especially since I’m currently incarcerated inside a KTB….” gotcha, “….I don’t mind telling you it was painful perusing those prizes….but at least I’d been spunked soundly by the milking machine.” She must have affixed it immediately after his branding. “We have to go all the way to study 24, Ma’am,” he said as they continued their trek. “I’ll be going all the way with you, bad boy,” she confirmed wittily, “as there’ll be pussy pleasure….after plenty of pain. I like the idea of having whipping boys, so Cuck can take your Caning For Cunt….” better yet, “….which you may recall is a dozen due. I’ll apply it when we get home this evening….” so they wouldn’t be staying? “….much as I’d like to do so, I’m working overtime tomorrow, even though it’s Sunday.” Clearly her apparent mind reading abilities were working well. 


David Shagton 

Quis illum sceleratum fuisse putavisset 


“Who Would Have Thought He Was A Rascal,” he confirmed as he pushed open the door, and stood aside for her to pass inside. She did so with alacrity, and they both followed her. “Always assuming Harry’s about to be cuckolded again, Ma’am,” he said, “he can watch from the wall. Shall we say some scrotum stretching, enabling what we call a time of AHH….Appreciation Hell Hour?” He gestured towards the shackles, and she nodded. “Strip starkers, Cuck,” she ordered, “and I think half a pound should suffice.” He opened one wardrobe, and removed a large cardboard carton. Dirty Harry’s clothes had already been stacked neatly on the floor when he returned, so he’d learned something at her hands. “Ohh….ohh,” he gasped as his wrists were shackled, and ankles ironed. “This is what I was telling you about, Ma’am,” he said, as he showed her the label.  


His Box of Tricks™ 

suitable for studs and slaves over sixteen  

Penile Punishments and Testicular Torments 

A total of two dozen different deviant disciplinary devices 

guaranteed to give all bad boys a hard time 

Shackles, irons & gags included for best bed bondage 

Also an Assortment of lead weights from 2oz to 2lb 

 And Testicle Tease Whips, plus Ropes of Rack and Ruin 

Precision Equipment supplied by:- Myron and Myra Torcher, Knaxville, TS  


He opened the carton, and extracted a Spiked Balls Parachute plus two 4oz Lead Weights. “AHH….” he gasped as the poppers were pressed into place, and the spikes bit his balls, “….AHHH,” he added as his scrotum was stretched. “I like it already, Shagger,” she said, “Cuck….buy me a box for last Christmas.” Very witty. “Yes, Ma’am….AHHH,” he repeated as his penis pulsed, and the KTM countermanded the action. Clearly, he liked the thought of it all, too. “We’re fully equipped for bed bondage, Ma’am,” he said, as they walked across the study, “with Standard St Stricktlands study bed-bondage features. I’ll lie on The pillow Punishment Points of pain, and you can immobilize me likewise.”


He set the carton onto the floor, and placed it as previously. “AHHH….” he gasped as he lay across it for the second time today, “….ohh….ohh,” he added as his wrists and ankles were shackled. “I’m afraid we won’t have time for more than a few devices, Shagger,” she said with a wide pout, “but Cuck can help out over the next few weeks….” unlucky lad, “….I can see there are three Kali’s teeth bracelets, but I won’t apply them to you now….” she was interrupted, “….don’t see why not….AYEEEEE….” gasped Dirty Harry, as she tugged his testicles, “….so sorry, Ma’am,” he added humbly, “….basically because I want to torment his tool….” Ohh, “….so we’ll begin with these luscious-looking spiked Gonads Gloves….as your nuts need knackering.” Most definitely.


 “AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH,” he gasped again and again. “You’ve signed my Sheet, Shagger,” she said, “so I’ll demand my dues.” Yes, MA’AM. “AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH,” he gasped, as this time his scrotum was stretched, “I am so much your stretch slave, MA’AM.” He shivered slightly as she picked up the Wartenberg Pinwheel and held it high. All the best torturers did so, as it enabled an erection to anticipate all agonies. “NO,” he gasped, meaning Yes….and essentially Stop It I Like It. “AYEEEEE….” he shouted as she stroked it along the supremely sensitive space between both balls, “….EEEE….EEEE….UHHH,” he added as it probed the primary pleasure point of his pulsing penis. He railed against the shackles, which naturally did nothing at all….apart from reinforce the feeling of futility.


Several minutes of sheer suffering later he was already sweating, acutely aware all this agony was simply for starters. “I’ve never seen an Organ Grinder before, Shagger,” she said softly, “apart from the conventional kind on street corners….” which came complete with a monkey, “….so I shall be fascinated to find out what one feels like.” Which wouldn’t be her. It comprised two flat circular plates, one having a hole with which to serve the scrotum, and the second to squash it up against each abrasive sandpapered surface.. “Ohhh….” he moaned more loudly as she pulled both his balls through the hole, “….ahhh….Ahhh….AHHH,” he added as she successively tightened three wing nuts. “I REALLY enjoy this bit,” she said, as she took hold of a large knob in the centre of the second plate, “….AYEEEEE….” he squealed as it rotated slightly, and the sandpaper strafed his scrotum, “….HEEE….HEEE,” he added as she shifted it back to its start.


The time of testicle and tool torment had reached almost an hour, and she’d had him inside the Knacker Cracker for what seemed forever. It was fiendishly simple, with two slats of wood, one of which had a hole. She’d tightened the two together with the wing-nuts, thus squashing his scrotum, and he was in acute agony. Then she rolled up her skirt with the so-called Tart’s Trademark. “Please pussy, Shagger….” she urged as she sat astride his body, and shimmied up to his head, “….and give me half a dozen cums. I’ve been on the edge for the past half hour.” Clearly, he wasn’t about to be released until she was satisfied. At least he wouldn’t need to worry with long licks to get her going. “UHHH….UHHH,” she moaned as he tackled her twat with his tongue, “YESS….YESS,” she shouted….SLAPP “….Oww,” he gasped, “Did I say stop, Shagger?” she asked, as quickly he resumed his work.


Finally, she’d had her fill, and shimmied down his body. “It’s time to take tool,” she announced, “although I’ll leave the Knacker Cracker for now….” thanks a bunch, “….this uniform enables lovely Ladies who’ve been left on the shelf through no fault of their own to claim compensation from the mere males….although I agree in reverse circumstances, it would be called rape….” his point precisely, “….so I shall screw you in the Superior style….with a suffering scrotum. Best not to cum before me, or your testicles will be toast.” He didn’t doubt it. “Best of luck, Shagger,” put in Dirty Harry, “I came too quickly last week, which is why I’m still locked up….Ahhh….and it’s the severe version.” Ouch. “UHHH….UHHH,” she moaned as she slithered along his straining shaft. “UHHH….MA’AM,” he muttered, “I’m so much your innate inferior…..UHHH….simply a plaything….UHHH….a phallus for pussy pleasure….UHHH.” She smiled sweetly. “Thank you, Shagger….UHHH,” she said as she humped him hard, “it’s always good when a mere male knows his place….UHHH….” he’d have to concentrate on differential equations, rather than the penile pressures, plus pain, “….UHHH….YESS….YESS….YESS,” she moaned, her chest heaving. “AHHH….HELL,” gasped her husband, “it always sets me off when I’m cuckolded….AHHH….UHHH….AHHH.” At least it wasn’t his problem. “UHHH….Harry,” he moaned, “I’m about to spunk….YESS….YESS.”


He spurted semen several times into the slit called Harriet Palmer. “Once more for the road, Shagger?” she implored. “I’ll do my best, Ma’am,” he muttered as she started to hump him, harder this time. “Cuck will be paying handsomely….uhhh….for the privilege,” she said, “you’re aware my cunt currency’s a dozen due….uhhh….so now it’s twice the tanning.” A tough brief being open-married to her, but he’d said Yes, so had only himself to blame. “I’m almost there….Ma’am….UHHH….YESS,” he moaned as he spurted a second time, far more feebly. “Well done….Shagguhhhh,” she whispered with a wide pout.


Slowly, she lifted herself off him, and his soft shaft slipped out. “Ohhh,” he moaned in real relief as she removed the Knacker Cracker. He rubbed his wrists after she released all his shackles and leg irons. “Thank you, Shagger,” she said brightly, “a most enjoyable evening….” she stared at him sternly, “….although I could have done with several more similarly during your time of tenure.” He’d let it lie, as she released Dirty Harry likewise. “Pick up your clothes, Cuck,” she said, “can you kindly escort us out, Shagger? We’ll all go as we are….and Cuck, it’ll be your lucky night, since you can drive Dubiously Dressed all the way home.”


A somewhat suspect practice, of which he was especially fond. It was basically being bare below the belt, although alternatively in the altogether. “Yes, Ma’am,” he replied reproachfully, “always assuming I’m not arrested along the way. But I’m grateful for the facility, and also for the opportunity to undergo an amount of exposure and exhibitionism, whilst we walk back to the car park. It doesn’t seem to faze Shagger, so I’m happy to follow his example.”


He picked up his pile of discarded clothes, and together they stepped out of the study, leaving the door wide open. Harriet Palmer walked beside him along the gloomy corridor, fondling his fanny all the way to the Level 6 landing. “You’re both welcome to attend my wedding,” he said as they continued down the empty stone steps. This time they were echoing, with distant discipline wafting on the wind, “….it’ll be a Dominatrix do….” he recalled what she’d once told him about hers, “….somewhat similar to yours….with married males wearing Wedlocks, and Bridesmaids beating me along the aisle.”


Harry Callaghan shivered suddenly, probably in painful memory. “AHHH….Ma’am,” he muttered as his KTB hit him again. “It’s your own fault, Cuck….” she said without sympathy as they reached the base, and started into the long, dark cold corridors, “….if you didn’t have errant erections for thinking Inappropriate thoughts, you wouldn’t have penile pain….” totally true, but hardly helpful, “….I’m glad you’re our guide, Shagger, since I’d never find my way out of this hellhole.”


Several minutes later, they arrived at the double doors of the main entrance hall. “You should be able to locate your car from here, Ma’am….Mmmm,” he moaned as she kissed him hard. “Au revoir, Shagger,” she said, “thanks for all the erotic entertainment, your testicles and tool….and skill with oral appreciation, which in all honesty is still a lot better than Cuck’s….” Oops, “….if he wants the KTB off sometime soon, he’ll have to up his game considerably. It’s amazing how mere males make every effort, when the alternative is fearful frustration for the foreseeable future.” Harry Callaghan gave him another glare, as though it were all his fault….which in one way, it was.



Together Wife and husband walked away in the gathering gloom of the summer’s evening. He gave them a final wave, before crossing the hall again and selecting the correct exit from the six such. Then it was into the anonymously identical corridors back all the way to the Prefects’ Study wing. He started up the first flight, still with an afterglow which….well, came with completed coitus. Some studs were about to score….or had done so, since he heard three Canings For Cunt in quick succession. “Huhh,” he huffed as he reached the Level 6 landing, and heard a study door slam ahead of him. “Cretin,” he heard a vitriolic vixen’s voice shout as he started into the gloomy corridor. Oops….since it was Feely Ceely. “Something I said, Silly?” he asked politely as he reached study 1.


Brian Macey 

Si potuero, faciam 


“Not at all, Shagger,” she replied in calmer tones, “I’d done my date for this evening, but Hugh and I is a Dominant dolt….” as he’d asserted earlier, “….which wouldn’t please pussy. I suppose it’s my own fault for not insisting first before fucking….although I did add several strokes to his Sex Thrashing as insult money. But Messy’s been asking for ages to take a tumble, so I foolishly thought he’d be happy to help me with a couple of cums, coupled with coitus. After all, he’s never really got over being given the heave-ho by my near namesake….” Celia Briony Tew, now CBT, “….but Rick The Prick’s gone to Aberdeen for a dirty weekend with Domme….” good for them, “….and it seems Mrs Sharp’s agreed to give him a go tomorrow morning….” as was his Missus on Sundays, “….having failed on every attempt to win with Weekly Wednesday Weedings….” her competition for cute cunt, whereby tools were teased under testicular torments, “….and she agreed out of charity. So he said I could sod off, since he was saving some semen for what would be a better bonk….one with Conscious Cunt Contraction Control. Hell….HE wouldn’t even please pussy, either.”


Always accept offers, and never compare cunts, he reflected sagely. “He should follow the advice in his Latin logo,” he replied, “If I Can, I Shall Do It….” he paused, “….I’m afraid I haven’t the wherewithal, since I’ve just taken a twat twice….but even so, I’d be honoured to approach your best bits orally? After all your earlier erotic efforts, it seems the least I can do. I’ve just escorted my own date off the premises, and my bed’s mine until the morning.” She smiled widely, and slipped her hand under his arm, again in Happy Hooker fashion. “Very gracious,” she agreed, “some competent cunnilingus would be most appreciated. Then we can sleep together until changeover time….” between 3am and 4am, “….since I too have a date tomorrow….” she fondled his fanny, “….I can feel all those lovely birch marks….” since she WAS Feely Ceely, “….but where’s the flogging for the fancy you’ve just fucked?”


He smiled sweetly as they reached his study, and gestured her inside. “I was able to utilize a whipping boy,” he replied, “Harry Callaghan, who’s the open-husband of Harriet Palmer. She’s the lovely Lady who took my seat whilst I was on the Podium. It was as well, since after my birching over the Block, I’m still seriously sore….” he paused, “….could you give me a moment to freshen up?” He hurried into the shower room, and quickly washed his face and fancy.  


When he returned, she’d switched on the bedside light. Whilst she stripped starkers, placing her clothes into a neat pile on the floor, he returned The pillow Punishment Points of pain to its rightful position. Then he replaced His Box Of Tricks back into the wardrobe. Next, he straightened the bed, although Mitches would have more work to do in the morning. She lay down and lifted her legs, holding them high with her hands….and spreading them wide. “Please presented pussy, Shagger,” she urged as he knelt next to her. “Uhhh….uhhh,” she moaned as he gave her the long licks from fanny and fancy to forest, “….uhhh….uhhh….thank you so much….uhhh….for showing me how it should be done, Shagger….UHHH,” she added as he delved deep and nuzzled her naughtiness with his nose. “Licking labial lips is a labour of love, Silly,” he replied, now they were equals. “How many have you done today….uhhh?” she asked, as he thought it through.


“Yours are the fifth pair,” he replied. “It’s not sodding surprising you’re an exper..uhhht,” she said, with obvious difficulty, “and it won’t….uhhh….take very long for me to reach a….uhhh….comprehensive conclusion….uhhh….UHHH….I’m going….UHHH….and cumming….YESS….YESS.” She let her legs drop, and her quim quivered. “It’s not fair we can’t fuck, Shagger….huhh,” she said sulkily, “being so close to coitus.” He smiled, as he picked her up, and tucked her neatly beneath the bedcovers. “Oooh….you’re so Masterful,” she squealed. “There’s always Summer School, Silly,” he suggested, as he joined her on his side between the sheets, and switched out the light. “Goodnight, Shagger,” she said, rubbing herself up against him, “You too,” he replied, as he slipped towards sleep.


To be continued……


Thursday, January 19, 2023

strapped striped seat

Chapter 238 - Part (3) of (4)


Prize Day – Year LXXXIX


Finally, his soft shaft slipped out of the cute cunt called Irene Marge. “Here’s a tissue, Shagger,” she said, taking a second. They both wiped themselves down, and dropped them into a wastepaper basket. “Get dressed, Shagger,” she said with a smile, as she tied her overall again. “Thank you, Ma’am,” he said, “I’ve always had a light lusting for lovely Ladies in latex, and your oilskins admirably fulfill my filthy fetish….” SLAPP “….Oww….thank you, Ma’am.” He continued to replace his basic black uniform, and put his cane back beneath his belt.



“It’s time to let one of my milkees loose,” she said, “since the poor sod’s been going for over half an hour. It’s the one called Cook….” Oops, “….which is really Cuck,” he interrupted, “as in cuckold, so it doesn’t much matter. Even so, I expect he’ll be grateful for the release, since he spends so much time inside a Kali’s Teeth Bracelet.” When he was respectable again, they returned together into the shed. “No more….uhhh….mercy….Ma’am,” moaned Dirty Harry, “I’ve long since secreted all my semen….ohh,” he added as his nozzle was removed, revealing a placid penis. Next it was his noose, and finally his shackles and leg irons. “It’s not Cuck’s day,” said Saucy Harry, “since whilst you were away with what-ho, I’ve spoken to someone about having him branded….permanently….” there was a moan of despair, “….we’re expected shortly, Shagger.”



She crooked his arm, in Happy Hooker fashion. “I’ll look forward to your flogging, David,” said his Mother. “So will we,” muttered Tyler Watson, “are you attending Summer School?” He nodded. “The final week of August, Mesdames,” he replied. “It’s his wedding on the Saturday,” said his Mother absently, “David didn’t mention it, but fortunately his bride-to-be wrote last week.” Damn’ decent….since this was before she’d put HIM the proposal. Presumably, she felt it to be a fait accompli….which it was. “We’ll wait a while longer….” he heard Tight Twat saying as Saucy Harry and the others strutted towards the barn door….Harry Callaghan slightly shakily, “….until they’re all definitely done and dusted. Then we’ll join Helen in The Dell for some whippings in the woods.” Which WOULDN’T be much fun for the studs, being spunked out. Still, once again they’d all signed up to such treatment. They stepped out into the sunlight, and crossed the courtyard to his next destination of doom. It was out of the frying pan, and into the fire….almost literally.


The Blacksmith

malleo in malleatoris incus


“I’m reliably informed the Latin logo means Hammer Into Anvil, Ma’am,” he said as they stepped inside. As per his previous visit a few weeks previously, it was horribly hot and really rather reminiscent of hell. A large, roaring furnace adorned the centre of the room, and electric lighting was entirely absent. Once again it was standing room only with black figures. “Excellent,” said Gestapo Mark, as he saw them, “if all the Farmers could kindly stand back, we can get going with our next brandee.” As before, he was naked from the waist up, wearing only the black hobnail boots and matching long leather trousers from the Whipmaster wherewithal. Even they came complete with a cut-out for the crotch. A similar one at the rear revealed a particularly pert posterior, over which it was almost impossible not to ogle.


The teacher’s legendary felt-tip pen had always been a bit like branding. His horrid habit was to apply arses with what amounted to the famous MG marque….his initials, in indelible ink. “As advertised,” Mark Guest continued, “most animals in here today will return to school having suffered only slightly….with their owner’s initials, or lucky number of their choice in hot paint on their posterior….” Ohh, “….however, we’ve a supremely submissive specimen, who’ll be branded permanently….” there were several gasps, “….and its owner’s signed a release form….” presumably on his behalf? “….so off we go. She’s asked for the letters H P, with one on each buttock. So stand well back, since I shall shortly take out two tools….” the well-worn witticism, “….in addition to my straining shaft. All Farmers are welcome to stroke themselves whilst they watch. First of all, we’ll strap him across the trestle….” he duly did so, with Dirty Harry appearing to be highly unhappy.


The teacher strutted to the furnace, and extracted two red hot irons. Then he marched across the room to where the unfortunate felon awaited his fate. “MA’AM,” he moaned. There was complete quiet as the first iron moved closer, and he was glad it wasn’t him. “AYEEEEE….HEEE….EEEE….HELL, it hurts,” he shrieked at the first touch on his tush, “….AYEEEEE….EEEE….HEEE,” he added at the second. There was a spontaneous round of applause. HISSS….went the irons as they went into a bucket of water. “I suggest some salve on him sometime, Ma’am,” he said, “but now I’ll release him into your tender care.” Or not, as the straps were removed, and a pained Dirty Harry arose, holding his hiney. “Thank you so much, Sir,” she said, “it’s something I should have done years ago.” She grabbed her hubby’s ear, “Ohh,” he moaned as she frogmarched him outside.


“Did you have any other plans for him, Ma’am?” he asked politely. “Definitely, Shagger,” she replied, “he’s already suffered a session inside the pigsty, and met Turnip….” the big boar, “….and next it’s the pig paddy field. Apparently, there’s no shortage of mud, so it should cool his tender tush. Even if it doesn’t do so, there’s always Dowsing Duty as a fitting finale.” He nodded. “Obviously I too will look forward to later, Ma’am,” he said, “however might I cordially recommend you both consider taking two hour teachers’ tours? They commence at the main entrance, with the final one at five o’clock. I daresay there’ll be the opportunity to partake of some food when you visit The Canteen. They terminate at the assembly hall, so you’ll end up at the prize-giving ceremony as it’s about to start.”


She nodded. “An excellent suggestion, Shagger,” she said, hugging him hard, “where are you off to next?” He smiled. “Would you happen to have the correct time, Ma’am?” he asked, “since it’s fagging at four, and I need to know how fast to walk back to the school.” He glanced at her wristwatch. “It’s exactly three twenty to three, Shagger,” she replied, “so quick march, and I’ll screw you soon.” So he hoped, as she held her hubby’s hurting hiney. “Ohh….ohh,” he moaned as she guided him away. As he followed the track in a different direction, he realized he’d never asked about the Jones’ nicknames. Most likely, they’d both have been JayJay, or The Jays.


Big Ben was striking for 3.45pm when he reached the abandoned remains of the monks’ kitchen gardens from the original Stricktlands Abbey. He crossed the Staff car park, and continued inside the buildings through the side entrance. Distant discipline was still evident, even though it was Prize Day and there were no lessons anywhere as a result. Then it was into the long, dark cold corridors. He reached the Prefects’ Study wing, and started up the stone steps. At this hour they were anything but empty, as fags hurried towards their destinations. It was all in an effort to avoid application of the agonies, against the charge of Lateness. However, as a cane-carrying prefect, he was given a wide berth.


“Huhh…huhh,” he huffed as he reached the final flight, and the traffic started to thin out. All right, so he WASN’T fully fit again. However, he’d just walked all the way from the Home Farm….following a fucking, so surely there was some justification? Then he continued all the way along the gloomy corridor to study 24….where the door was wide open. He stepped inside, and saw both his fags had arrived already, both still wearing their unisex slave aprons and high heels. “So which one of you two terrors was born in a barn?” he asked wittily, as he gestured towards it. “She did, Sir,” they both replied in unison. “In which case, it’s one whack on both your beat sheets,” he said, “thus ensuring the culprit is caned for her crime.” There were two sniffs. “It’s not fair, Sir,” said 3M sulkily, even as The Pirate stamped her foot.


“One more for Mitches….Arguing, again,” he said, “and also for Kelly, only for her it’s Lack of self control. Sexy Sammy failed to flog it from you, and it appears I haven’t succeeded either….” he paused, “….I wish your frightful fagmistress better luck in a year’s time….” unless it was her fearsome fagmaster. He’d HAVE to do his final Deposition, before it was too late, “….bend over, both of you. Actually I’m grateful, since flogging your fetching fannies will help me recharge my batteries. I’ve just screwed someone, and as you saw from my Cute Cunt Calendar, I’ve another lovely Lady later. I’ve every intention of edging myself by the perusal of porn, however it can wait until you’ve departed for dinner.” They both assumed the Position.


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“Oooh..OOOH….TWO,” gasped Mitchell Mary Murphy, “thank you so much, SIR. I’ll admit it was me with the door, Sir….if it helps at all.” Not really….since it was too late to worry. “There were two strokes outstanding from this morning, Kelly,” he said, “so those are first.”


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“Oooh..HOOH….TWO,” gasped Kelly Morgan, “thank you, SIR.”


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““Owww..WOWW….FOUR,” she gasped, “thank you, SIR….I know I needed them, Sir. But surely there’s no need to be bothered with pornography….since you’ve two twats standing ready and available for inspection. You could wear my naughty knicks over your nose….” not for the first time, “….we’ll be fucking next February, so you could just regard it all as a presented pussy preview.” Thirdeen going on thirdy, but this had always been the case. “Two more for various Vulgarities, Kelly,” he said, “with one for Impertinently Imparting Information. However….are you in accordance with such sordid suggestions, Mitches?” She spread her legs wide in answer, as did The Pirate. “Please, Sir,” she said softly, “it’s my turn to offer you the naughty knickers….” which was true, “….perhaps you could pretend it’s Panty Pervert Pete pulling his penis in the public park.” A sound suggestion.


Swishhhthwackkkkk    Swishhhthwackkkkk    Swishhhthwackkkkk

“Yezz..YEZZ..YEZZ….SEVEN, thank you, SIR,” gasped Kelly Morgan, “swearing’s another horrid habit which should have long since been beaten out of me.” He set down the stick and stripped slowly, stacking each item neatly. Then he padded to his wardrobe and put on his black Lee van Cleef cloak, which would mean keeping his prefect’s privileges. Samantha Fuck Me Harder Terrier always wore black high-heeled shoes on her so-called Naturist days for the same reason. She’d tease his tool….before tanning his tush terribly. Then he picked up Mitches’ pair of pink knickers.



“Uhhh,” he moaned as he placed them into position, and inhaled her choice cunt scent. “Uhhh….uhhh….” he repeated, stroked his shaft and encouraging an errant erection, “….I’m a wanker boy….uhhh….which wants to wank worthlessly with wanton wicked wenches….uhhh….as it’s the closest I can….well, cum to cute cunt….uhhh….uhhh….separate your slits….uhhh….uhhh….” already his shaft was straining from the stimulation, “….we’re doing well….uhhh….uhhh….turn around and look me in the eye….uhhh….holding hands on hips….uhhh….with disdain and disgust at my deviance….uhhh….” the same as so many pretty pictures in WANKER! with the lovely Ladies leering. It really WAS a magazine which spoke so strongly to his sinful psyche. Even the injunction on the front cover said it all: Feel the shame of taking your favourite magazine to the checkout Lady, “….the horrendous humiliation is so squirmingly and sordidly scrumptious….uhhh….and works wonders for my wavering willy….uhhh….and you might take a picture for posterity and the Camera….uhhh….Club….uhhh….anything you say or do until we’re finished will be freebies for posterior punishment purposes.”



They both turned and stitched suitable expressions of scorn. “You’re a pathetic panty pervert….Peter,” said Kelly Morgan, “….a lecherous loser in love….” added Mitchell Mary Murphy, “….you want cunt….” said The Pirate, teasingly, “….but you can’t get cunt,” added 3M, equally so, “the lovely Ladies laugh and leer….” definitely, “….you should be castrated for your crimes….” yes, “….I’ll make a suitable start by knackering your nuts nicely….again.” He continued to stroke his shaft as she took hold of his testicles. “AHHH….AHHH….AHHH,” he gasped, bending forward as his scrotum was squeezed, “….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….” FLASHH….as The Pirate performed, “….AHHH….me balls, Ma’am.”



Slowly he straightened, and she handed over the camera to 3M. “Now it’s my turn to tackle your testicles,” she growled. “AHHH,” he gasped all over again….FLASHH “….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….more….uhhh….uhhh….only harder….uhhh….” she tightened her hold, “….AHHHHH….AHHHHH….AHHHHH.” Finally, after an eternity, she let him loose. Slowly he stood up straight, his shaft similarly so. “Thank you both so much,” he said, “I can see you’re both highly hot and bothered, so there are free hot showers available for each of you, with as much Wasting Water as you wish….” he paused, “….this was our final Dressing Down Day, all of which I’ve enjoyed immensely. I hope you have, too?”



There were two neat nods. “Yes, Sir,” said Mitches, “and I expect to offer the same facility to my fags next Autumn. Even if they’re bad boys, it’ll be good practice for them with wearing high heels. I watched you wearing yours so well at the Summer Balls last Thursday, and it should be a skill for all studs and sluts.” He could only agree. “You go first Mitches,” he said, “whilst Kelly makes my meal. I shall make up my beat sheets, and then have a short snooze, so leave everything in the oven for later. When you fetching floozies finally finish your filthy finger fantasies, you’re dismissed for the day. Report at eight o’clock tomorrow morning, since it’s Sunday.” They both curtseyed politely, and Mitches strutted away towards the shower room. Then he sat down at the study table and picked up his clip board. First of all, he turned to his Prefect Beat Sheet.       

6. ++++ Prize Day ++++

7. Ewell, Servalan, dorm 5A, Incitement: 1, Disrespect: 1. Total:2


Next it was Kelly Morgan’s again, after updating entry 3 from earlier.

4. DDD: 1, lack of self control: 1; Vulgarities: 2  III: 1– Total: 5 – TAKEN


Finally it was his senior fag’s sheet

10. Dereliction of domestic duties: 1, Arguing: 1


Then he padded across the study, and took to his bed. Sounds of a slut sinning under the shower were somehow so stimulating, however he closed his eyes and ears.

He’d eventually been woken at 6.30pm by Big Ben striking. Both fags had long since left, so he’d eaten his dinner alone. He’d stored his cloak, and padded out of the study. The wing was strangely silent, but most of its occupants would already be en route to the main assembly hall. It was sometime shortly before 7pm when he reached it, and passed the wide-open double doors. He continued inside and saw several end-aisle chairs had been duly labelled. He located his own, and sat down. “Hello, Shagger,” said Celia Johnson beside him, “I saw your name, and wondered whether you were wanting any assistance in endless edging and gooning?” As indeed she’d achieved during the old-Hundred Bum-up Challenge,


“An excellent suggestion, Silly,” he replied, “since I’m somewhat short on semen, and I’ve a date due. My fags have helped out earlier, but since you said you’d be pleased to put me into these states of semi-oblivion a second time….well, feel free after the prefect prizes. But do bring me back to earth in time for my star turn.” He glanced up at the clock, and he’d timed it right….6.59pm precisely. The Interrogator was in place on the Podium, together with all the teachers. Recalling the similar events from Year LXXXVIII, the school Governors would all be sitting in the first row of an appreciative audience. “There goes my Aunt Marge, Ma’am,” he muttered as the Chair of Governors strutted up onto the stage. Inevitably she wore her Tanningtown style standard black leather business suit, with its strict short leather skirt.


“Greetings, everyone,” said Margaret Whapshott, “and welcome to Prize Day for Year LXXXIX. After awarding the prefect and subject prizes, we have some additional items this evening. I’ve long since said the cane’s too good for my naughty nephew….and niece….” so it seemed his Sister HAD similarly succeeded, “….you’ll see St Sticks has brought back the Birching Block….” she gestured towards it, and there were many murmurs of obvious approval, “….for flogging exceptionally sinful specimens in the 5th and lower 6th forms. It’ll be alternative agonies available after Explaining themselves, with some sinful sixdeen strokes instead of an automatic Detention. Three villains have volunteered for various vapulations….” floggings….as contained in Grahame’s Guide to Grandiloquisms, “….administered in accordance with disciplines due….” she smiled, “….in advance of the system starting in September. However, three explainees have already asked for the facility. So it’ll be six swished scholars….but not necessarily the best….” there was loud laughter, “….I’ll now hand over to The Headmaster.”


He stood up and bowed. “Thank you, Margaret,” he said, “and my own warm welcome to all parents, august alumni, invitees and scholars over sixteen. We will commence with the various prizes, starting with The Autumn Thrash. This is where a pretty prefect punishes the posteriors of all the pupils-with-penis In The Pink in the shortest possible time. The Trophy has been held by Mrs Helen Shagton since Year LXVII….” there were various gasps, “….alas her longstanding record of 9th November has now been….well, beaten….” more mirth, “….by one day. Our winner Beatrice Dore-Marjorie was once known as Margery Daw or Seesaw, but is now BDM….so beware, bad boys….” he heard many mutterings of, “,” and, “Yes, MA’AM,” from around the hall, “….please step forward.” She arose from another end-aisle seat on the other side, and strutted towards the stage.


There was wild applause as Aunt Marge shook her hand and presented her prize. “Stay where you are, Bea,” he said, “since now we have the two winners of what is now known as the old-Hundred Bum Up Challenge Cups. Beatrice has successfully scored a double, since she has won for the pretty prefects….with a time equalling that of Year LXXXVIII. For the prefects-with-penis, it is Richard Sharp….please step forward.” From behind him, his former dorm captain stood and strode onto the Podium. Both Cups were awarded to loud clapping, as the two prefects returned to their places, and Aunt Marge followed to the front row. “As we have a new fitting finale,” he said, “we will now award the prize from the Department Of Deportment.”


This was something he’d missed last year, having left the Undercroft after receipt of his prize. It was the way one carried oneself whilst walking, and all pretty prefects were required to attend one class every week. “The lucky winner this year is….” there was an expectant hush, “….Andrea Pawling….” she arose from her seat….starkers, apart from a pair of black high heeled shoes plus a back board strapped to her shoulders, “….should she make it up to the Podium with Volume 1 of St Stricklands: A Hiſtory balanced on her head, her prize is three whacks. However, should it fall off en route, it is six of the best.” He watched whilst she walked, her back impossibly straight.


Slowly, she started the steps, and there was complete quiet. Suddenly, on only the second, the heavy book fell off with a loud clatter. “Which was absolutely appalling….Appalling,” said The Headmaster wittily, whilst wielding the weapon, “such a shame….” wheeewww, it went whilst he swished it through the empty air, and she flinched visibly, “….bend over, Andy. It will be six strokes, showing us all your superb seat.” She duly did so, her high heels accentuating the angle of attack, as always.


Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk    Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk    Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk

“Yeee..EEEE..HEEE….THREE,” she yelped, “thank you, SIR.”    


Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk    Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk    Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk

“Yeeoww..OWWW..WOWW….SIX, thank you SIR,” she gasped, “thank you for my prize, Sir….ohh,” she added as he stroked her stripes with the stick. “Steady as she goes….so to speak,” he said to loud applause. She proceeded back down the steps, and retrieved the fallen book. Then she stepped stiffly past the appreciative audience to her seat again with what was clearly the classic canees’ gait of guilt….and a wide smile. But then, she’d been in dorm 6J the previous year. The six jailbirds was yet another CP dorm, so she might even have failed badly for the purposes of posterior punishment.


“We now have a new prize,” he said, “which once again will be awarded by acclamation, and administered by our newest Governor….Sir Digby Vaillance….” there was a round of polite applause as the noble knight stepped up to the Podium, dressed as always in his Smart suit. It was extremely expensively tailored bespoke Savile Row stuff….black pinstripe, suitably silky white shirt plus matching tie and shiny shoes, “….these are the Mrs Shagton Rear Of The Year awards….” he paused, “….may I use this opportunity of wishing them both well, since she is to become Shagger’s wonderful Open-Wife on the last Saturday of August….” there was wild applause, “….sometime scholars attending Summer School will be welcome to attend the ceremony at St Esstrickts Parish Church.


But returning to today, these awards are for the pertest posteriors of the pupils In The Pink, as voted by all the present prefects. For the guilty girls, it is….Totton, Holly….” loud applause, “….who managed a massive ninedy three per gross of the vote….” over nine dozen of the total twelve, “….and for the bad boys we have….Orwell, Harry Herbert….” more clapping, “….who achieved eighdy six….” he watched whilst the two lucky winners padded in parallel up onto the Podium to face their appreciative audience, “….notice they are each wearing Short Shirts. These too are a new innovation, by kind courtesy of H2O himself, who did a Deposition to the Governors. You will see they are specially shaped, sewn and seamed to remove much of the material.


The collar is unchanged, but at the back it is cut away just below the shoulder blade. A three wide inch tongue carries the buttons, and likewise allows the year colour tie to be worn conventionally….” he smiled slightly, “….for sinful sluts, an added advantage is it also enables an instant naughty nipple inspection, since a beautiful boob is proudly presented in place of a pocket….” there were loud guffaws, followed by several gasps of pain….presumably as many mere males got their gonads grabbed, “….please turn around, and present your perfect posteriors for punishment. It will be three strokes each in the staccato style….then you may arise, and return to your seats.”    


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“Yeee..EEEE..HEEE….THREE,” yelped Hotty Totty, “thank you, SIR.” There was more clapping, with obvious approval. “One of the best bums in the business,” he confirmed.  

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“Yeee..HEEE..EEEE….THREE,” he yelped, “thank you, SIR.” They both bowed and curtseyed to the Chair, and padded off the Podium. “Harry’s neat little bottom seems somewhat similar to Shagger’s,” he said, “since it seems they are third cousins.” There was more loud applause, and he waited for it all to subside. “Next,” he continued, “all ten prizes will be applied by the respective Heads of department, with one lucky winner from each form. So without further ado, it is time to swish six of our least successful scholars in every subject. They will also wear Short Shirts, rather than the caning aprons from years past. As you know, at St Stricktlands School, you get….well, bottom marks for bottom marks….” more mirth, “….first on the fanfare of failures are for French, for which Mr Mark Guest will officiate.”


He watched whilst the six felons appeared from the top of the black metal spiral staircase, likewise wearing Short Shirts, and padded across the Podium. “Turn around, and assume the Position,” he ordered as they presented their posteriors for punishment. He saw The Gestapo Marker append a black felt-tip to each of the six seats, all of which winced. The MG mark was named after the sports cars which carried the famous MG marque. It was a bit like the brandings he’d seen earlier, albeit not nearly as painful. Probably, Dirty Harry wouldn’t appreciate it at all. “Uhhh,” he moaned as his tool was taken in hand by his prefect peer, and all rational thought ceased.

Thursday, January 12, 2023

Chapter 238 - part(2) of (4)

 Prize Day – Year LXXXIX

 According to the study wall clock it was somehow 8.54am, and he was suddenly very late. Quickly, he signed his name on the side of the completed carton. Being in study 24 on Level 6, his was the final entry of all the gross of prefects. Speedily, he dressed in his basic black uniform, and carried the carton under his arm to the door. But what had been so interesting? Then he too inspected the Calendar entries?

Saucy Harry and cook

7pm (escort to study)

Interesting indeed, since he hadn’t been in touch with either of them for many moons. Now he could understand Mitches’ concern, since it made no sense on the surface, and Sue Sweet had obviously been the same. He closed the study door behind him, and proceeded along the gloomy corridor to the Level 6 landing. Then it was down the empty echoing stone steps all the way to the entrance hall, and into the first of the long, cold corridors. Several minutes later he reached his destination. “Overslept, Shagger?” asked the Assembly Monitor, as he smiled sweetly. “More like overworked, Wendy,” he replied to The Windy City, gesturing towards the carton. “It’s a cross we all bear,” she said sagely, as he mouthed her a quick kiss. “I’d have preferred a poke with you and your Missus,” she muttered as he passed through the double doors.


 At least as a prefect he wouldn’t be whacked for Lateness. But why them both….as he stood at the back of the hall, unable to reach any seats. Yes….Wendy Citizen had been one of The Six Bi Babes of dorm 6B last year. He’d certainly screwed her at some stage, but not both together. Alas there was only so much time and possible permutations for poking. The Interrogator was speaking, so it seemed he’d managed to miss the daily devotions….and explainees. Desperately, he attempted to concentrate on what was being said, “….have here a Deposition….” he waved it around, “….handed to me only yesterday by Shagger….with thanks for his belated attendance this morning….” rumbled, “….still, we all know what it can be like after a heavy night….” there were several sniggers from his prefect peers, “….I propose to read it out in full, for the benefit of all concerned….or not.”


On: Felon Flogging Fridays at five

Mesdames et Messieurs - I was recently privileged to have represented the school (together with Ms Ava Frasch, the pretty prefect Shirley Greene, and also our newest Governor, Sir Digby Vaillance) on a trip to St Bodlians School at Rugby. We were able to make a successful Presentation about our august Head of PT’s game of Naccarim. Indeed, their Headmaster has suggested there might be some scope for the start of a future league. This could be taken together with St Templars in Tanningtown, who have already played us once in a Challenge match.

However, I was also pleased to learn all about what they call Felon Flogging Fridays at five. These are particularly public punishments, and offer out an appreciative audience for the agonies onto an aching arse. The modus operandi at St Bowlers is fairly unique. There, the bad boys wear nothing but crimson coloured bowler hats whilst being birched basically bare over the block. The school is currently single sex, but starting in September will also be admitting guilty girls….and they have yet to decide about the hats. I would venture to suggest there is scope for a similar scheme at St Sticks, for studs and sluts.  My suggestion is for Sinner Swishing Saturdays at seven. Those felons in the lower 6th form (or perhaps the 5th as well) could be offered an option of deferring or at least delaying Daily Detention. I strongly suspect this might find felons’ favour. This would replace The Headmaster’s extra Detention, following their Explanation after six such. This option could be repeated at nine, although each of the two normally awarded would require a separate session. Explainees might take the middle course of one extra Detention and one Birching, depending upon the time of term, and indeed whether they, ‘felt lucky.’


“It is at this juncture,” he said, “I should draw attention to interesting phrase learned from St Bowlers, not connected as such to the point of this Deposition, but nevertheless of interest. It is ‘Three for the Thrill of a Thrashing,’ following a flogging. I can commend its immediate introduction by all prefects and Staff, and abbreviated on beat sheets to TTT….” there were murmurs of obvious approval from all around him, “….but let us return to the matter in hand.”


I cordially suggest an informal approach to St Templars, in order to ascertain whether they too might be interested in its adoption.  On a purely practical matter, I noted how the Birching Block from Room 101 in The Extension had already been moved to the Podium for the annual Summer Balls….for use with la Volta. It occurred to me it might be prudent to leave it in place permanently, so I took the liberty of suggesting same to The Headmaster during the evening.


He waved negligently towards the offending object, sitting almost innocently by the black metal spiral staircase which led to the Undercroft. As an aspiring Ampère, it had been highly humbling and humiliating. He’d stood on the top step, and been launched into space by Section Officer Maggie Riffkin. The Riffraff had grabbed his gonads good, as he’d been treated to a twirl, with a sound smack on his seat upon landing. It was almost akin to Pick-Me-Up and Smack-Me-Down. This was a free facility from his Mother which he’d always enjoyed when tiny. Needless to say, he’d always been starkers, and somehow it was so scarily scrumptious….although she’d never squeezed his scrotum.   


Mrs Margaret Whapshott, our Chair of Governors, has often stated how she considers the cane too good for me. Therefore she might agree a beating by the birch would be beneficial for my bottom. During my period as prefect, I have been privileged to enjoy a Saturday morning sojourn with The Smith Sisters. Taken together, their combined currencies are some sinful sixdeen strokes (formerly a straight eighteen). I am sure they would be highly happy to hit my hiney hard on the Podium, rather than in the sanctity of a study. In this vein it occurs to me how Sinner Swishing Saturdays at seven should be standardized and similarly set….at the same suffering as The Big One. My colleague in crime Hercules Poke, prefect, has advised how he too would be pleased to present his posterior for public punishment, and for the same sins. He hails from dorm 6X, so as one of The Six X-hibitionists last year, this may not be a surprise. I commend the matter to all the Governors, and beg to remain, yours faithfully, David Shagton, prefect


“I have spoken at some length to The Headmaster of St Templars School,” he said, “Dr Dionysius Ichabod Yeo….” he smiled slightly, “….who I understand is known as Dr Yeow….” there were several sniggers from the ranks of the prefects, “….but I do digress. Anyway, the upshot is they too will be adopting the Block for the beneficial beating of the Babes and Boys In Blue, plus the Pupils-In-The-Pink. We both feel this will go a long way towards healing the bitter divorce between the two schools almost ninety years ago….” he paused, “….when they were unable to reconcile regular receipt of the rattan on the rear, as opposed to the traditional tawse. These will commence in the Autumn. However, we have the occasion of Prize Day, which too is a Saturday. So as Shagger has suggested, we will supply some sample sessions, after awarding the prizes for this year. His fanny will be the first to feel a formal flogging over the Block, and Poke Her will be third. However the second such sinner will be William Shanks, our recently restored prefect….” there were several gasps as he glanced towards him. He didn’t appear to be at all fazed, so presumably he’d already been advised? “….who will also provide a demonstration of this decisive derrière discipline. As many of you will know, Wanker Boy Will has been billeted for the past week in dorm 6X. I can confirm he has learned a lot from his hosts….” there was more mirth from around him, “….and can now confidently claim to be another incorrigible exhibitionist. He too is owed some suitable Sex Thrashings….” the two teachers who’d been on his Hit List, for yesterday evening and this morning, “….together with an amount of accrued agonies outstanding from his final Detention, prior to his restoration.”


The Interrogator was doing ever so well, since this wasn’t his usual dreadfully dull and disinterested delivery. Possibly HE hadn’t screwed anyone this morning, and hence hadn’t a hurting hiney? However this was unlikely, since he was a Womanizer of the worst kind. These treats were reserved for special occasions, such as the Old Hundred Bum-up Challenge….so perhaps this was the reason? Maybe all it proved was he could do so when he wanted?


 He realized The Headmaster was still speaking, “….several standard entertainments will be offered out as usual for all our invitees. These will include the morning demonstrations of discipline by the prefects in the Public Playground Pillories. There will also be two-hourly tours around the school by the teachers, starting at the main entrance hall every hour until five of the clock, and terminating here….” trust Terrence to remove even this apostrophe, but he WAS a Patron of PEDANT, the Perfect English Development Association National Trust, “….the Absolution Afternoon for Orwell, Harry Herbert of dorm 6W will take place at two, when he will receive his just rewards. A Statement of Sin for all the Affronted Ladies will be available later for inspection on the main notice board. However this year there will be another two new facilities. The first will be the opportunity for sometime scholars-with-scrotums to Walk The Plank. These will be offered by Mrs Edith Zippy, obviously in The Swimming Pool. Secondly, we will be opening Farmyard Fun and Frolics for the final time this term. It will provide an opportunity for prefects, plus parents and other invitees, to play prime porker, salutary sow….or indeed Farmer. I must remind all younger years how The Home Farm is strictly out-of-bounds, since several of the attractions are absolutely adults only….” quite so, having sampled several of them himself, “….all rise.”


 The school duly did so, and he retreated to the double doors for a quick getaway. Then it was back into the long, dark cold corridors whilst clutching his prize. Finally, he reached the entrance hall for the Administration wing, and started up the first flight. “Huhh,” he huffed as he reached the Level 1 landing, and continued into The Headmaster’s corridor. Having been first out after assembly, all the explainees had yet to arrive.


Iain Terrence Hayter, M.A. (Oxon)


Susan Sweet

 The green overhead warning light wasn’t illuminated, so he knocked. “Entarrrr,” he heard, so he opened the door and stepped inside. “Good morning, Sue….” he said as he approached her desk, Ogling Obviously Over her in the process. She wore her Tanningtown style white leather business suit, together with the horn-rimmed glasses. These she’d finally confessed were simply for effect, “….I bring another gift for the Record Rooms Registrars, with my love and best swishes. Hopefully though, there aren’t too many more.” He set it down onto her desk, and she stared at it. “Brownie Babes,” she mused, “so there’s a further four or five to follow. Since this is the third time you’ve done this chore, I expect you realize it takes longer with the older years.…” he did, “….since statistically speaking, you’ve flogged many more fannies. However, nobody’s forcing you to comment upon canings. It merely gives you the option of doing so.”


All right, he understood. “I do have one request of you, Sue….” he said, and she licked her lips, “….a printable one….” she seemed slightly put out, “….it’s always the sodding same at this time of year,” she grumbled, “I’ve groomed so many studs successfully, and then they….well, up Styx….” which was one way of putting it, “….and are away to pastures new.” He attempted to marshal his thoughts from those of sex and screwing. “I shan’t forget you, Sue,” he said, “and as we discussed yesterday, I’m hoping to attend Summer School….here’s the application form, duly signed.” Together, they inspected it.


St Stricklands Summer School – Year LXXXIX

As previous prefect from Year   LXXXIX or other sometime scholar (detail)     n/a

I wish to apply for a place as follows for week:   5 (last in August)

I propose to play: Prefect (basic black uniform) OR

In The Pink, in dorm 6 X  

(Short Shirt for Detentions and most lessons)

I am aware how agonies may be applied at all times, and fully indemnify the school against loss, damage or injury however caused. The fee NP300:00 (432 0s 0d) per week (including full board and beatings) must be paid prior to commencement of the facility.

signed  David Shagton

  “So you fancy a fling at being one of the six x-hibinists, Shagger?” she asked, and he nodded, “but why the specific date requirement?” He smiled smugly. “Departure Day will my wedding, Sue,” he replied, as she stood up and hugged him hard. “Congratulations, Shagger,” she said, “presumably with your Missus….?” he nodded again, “….but what’s your request, if it isn’t the Other?” He took a deep breath. “Apparently I’m screwing my former driving examiner this evening….?” he asked, as she gave a guilty grin, “….a Mrs Harriet Palmer called during the Easter holidays,” she replied, “complaining about having been abandoned for nearly two terms. She said both you and Relay visited her house, for various dirty deeds….” and Rick The Prick too, but no matter, “….so I checked your Cute Cunt Calendar, wrote her into one of the few remaining slots, and called her back. I meant to mention it, but something must have….well, cum up….” probably between five and eight inches long, “….although I didn’t quite understand why she wanted to bring her cook.”


He shrugged. “It’s Cuck, not cook, Sue,” he explained, “her cuckold husband, Dirty Harry….” she interrupted, “now it makes sense, Shagger,” he took back the sentence, “….so the favour is to call her again, and suggest they arrive much earlier, to try out some Farmyard Fun and Frolics. If you’d kindly brief her about what’s on offer, I’ll endeavour to meet her in The Milking Shed around three o’clock. She works Saturday mornings, so you might need to call her at the test centre.” Sue Sweet nodded, ever the efficient School Secretary. “Leave it to me….” she said as the office door opened, and The Headmaster strode inside, “….and I shall enjoy Ogling Obviously Over you on the Block, Shagger.” He grinned. “As will many others, Miss Sweet,” he said, “it promises to be a most entertaining Prize Day. Can you please send in the first explainee?”


 He disappeared into his study, and she illuminated the green light. The office door opened again, and a scholar strode inside….with obvious enthusiasm. “Is it Araldite?” she asked, “since there half a dozen of your peers-with-penis In The Pink this morning.” He’d missed the list read out in assembly, but it had most likely been long. “Yes, Ma’am,” he replied, “I’m Height, Harold of dorm 6Z.” One of the so-called CP dorms, whose members craved caning at all costs. “You’re on nine,” she said, “so best be quick, and you can get to Games before the deadline….or you’ll be on Daily Detention….” she sniffed, “although it maketh little difference, as there’s only a few days before the end of term.” He nodded. “I don’t mind being beaten, Ma’am,” he muttered as he hurried off, “but it’s all the Lines which I can manage without.” He took a deep breath and knocked on the study door.

Iain Terrence Hayter, MA (Oxon)

Quam celerrime

 As Quickly As Possible, read the Latin logo. “Entarrrr,” called out the villain’s voice he knew so well. “I’ll just turn on the intercom, Shagger,” said Sue Sweet as he disappeared inside. “Do you have any Explanation for your conduct, bad boy?” asked The Headmaster. “No, Sir,” he replied, “but I do have an impertinent request.” He had a sneaking suspicion of what this might be? “Knackerpants down and bend over,” he said, “and you can tell me whist your tush is tanned. It will the standard six for starters, staccato style in threes, since time is short.”


Swishhhhhthwackkkk    Swishhhhhthwackkkk    Swishhhhhthwackkkk

Yeee..HEEE..EEEE….THREE, thank you, SIR,” he yelped. Such second and subsequent strokes stung much more, since they landed on the same spot. The Pirate’s hits had ALL been hard, so it hadn’t made much difference. “I’d like to indent for a slot at the Sinner Swishings this evening, Sir,” he said, “so I can show off my stripes afterwards.” He nodded. “Exactly as I thought,” he said.


Swishhhhhthwackkkk    Swishhhhhthwackkkk    Swishhhhhthwackkkk

Yarooo..OOO..HOO….SIX, thank you, SIR,” he gasped. “Presumably thus one of The Six Zebras?” he asked, sourly. “Yes, Sir,” he replied. “I will be happy to hit your hiney,” he confirmed, “since the other three felons will be flogged by others. Unless you are a prize-winner....” Sue Sweet interrupted, “….he isn’t, Sir,” she said, “ which case you may watch the ceremony first….albeit in the altogether. There will be a reserved end-seat for you, on the centre aisle. I will summon all birchees up to The Podium when all the prizes have been awarded, as an encore. You may reclaim your seat, or stand, after you have been birched. Meantime, it will be Three for the Thrill of a Thrashing.”


Swishhhhhthwackkkk    Swishhhhhthwackkkk    Swishhhhhthwackkkk

Yeouchh..OUCH..OUCH….NINE, thank you, SIR,” he gasped, “thank you as always for thrashing me thoroughly, since I know I needed I, Sir.” As a simple subbie, this was certainly so. “Do you have anything interesting planned for today, Shagger?” asked The SS. “It starts with a long stint of Discipline Reports, Sue,” he said, sadly. “Sort yourself out, bad boy,” said The Interrogator, “I look forward to your further flogging. Miss Sweet, kindly send in the next explainee. It will be interesting to see whether we have any additional applications.” The study door opened and Harold Height emerged, looking pained but pleased. “I’ll walk with you, bad boy,” he said, as a second explainee entered the office.


Uh..huh….since it was one of The Trouble Triplets. They were all in the Six Punishees, another of the CP dorms. “I’m Tribble, Kynaston of dorm 6P, Ma’am,” she confirmed, “and I was wondering whether The Headmaster might….” she was interrupted, “…..don’t ask, don’t get….” said The SS, “….thanks for the tip, Ma’am. Harold and I were hoping he might be gracious and agree.” Kinnie The Kinks continued towards her destination of doom. They walked away, and the office door closed behind them. As he’d expected, a long line of sinful scholars stretched out. Oops….since he could see his sinful Sister among the Babes and Boys In Blue. “Terrence IS allowing Sinner Swishings, Lyn,” he called out, “since Araldite here will have his hiney hit hard.” She gave him the thumbs-up.


Then they continued quickly along the corridor, with the younger year walking in the classic canees’ gait of guilt. Look At Me, it was saying, I’ve Just Been Caned. “At the risk of Impertinently Imparting Information, Sir,” he said, “I’d just like to thank you once again for the Equestrienne Escaped Slave Session in the Spring Term, Sir. It was most appreciated.” He’d let him off. “There’s another item with which you may be interested,” he replied, “which are the Apocryphal Scholar Saturdays. They’re for prefects playing In The Pink, but alas only occur in the Summer Term….” they reached the Level 1 landing, and started down the empty echoing stone steps, “….based on the old story of when a schoolboy reported to his Headmaster to collect a replacement rattan. But what he said was, ‘Please Sir, my teacher sent me for the cane,’ with the inevitable result. The role-play scenes are predicated around the premise, and you have eighteen hits in all….the same as The Big One.”


There was a slight snigger as they reached the base. “Thank you, Sir,” he replied, “and also for the Sinner Swishing Saturdays. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll have to hurry in order to reach the Games changing rooms on time.” He nodded. “Enjoy….or not,” he said as he waved him away, before continuing in a different direction down the long, dark cold corridors. It would be back to the Prefects’ Study wing, for a stint of soft sarcasm at some sinful scholars’ expense. He’d look in on H2O later.

* * * * * *

He’d had a late lunch in The Canteen, and headed away towards the playground. According to Big Ben it was 2.22pm when he reached his destination, with a small crowd of interested onlookers. Carefully, he read the large notice affixed to the frame.


Public Playground Pillory

The implementation of due diligence discipline with regard to a Statement Of Sin by Orwell, Harry, of dorm 6W will take place here this afternoon at 2.15pm. A full list of Affronted Ladies is available on the main school notice board. Only those designated may apply punishment, however he may be examined freely by all pupils and parents as desired.


This was the official confirmation of how, in addition to his punishment, he could be touched up, groped, knackered and slave stretched. They were all things which had happened in times past when felons had been put into the public pillory. Given the number of younger years present, it was a form of PWEP….Punishment With Extreme Prejudice. The bad boy already endured it once following his Big One, so doubtless he’d get through this second session too. He inspected the hooks which bore the instruments of posterior punishment….the cane, martinet and Tanningtown tawse, and then the heavy hasp with its locking pin.


Hell….he could almost feel his own head and hands on the lower half of the wooden frame. The hinged upper half was already in place over the offered neck and wrists, making much movement impossible. His legs were spread, his ankles had been ironed, and needless to say he was standing starkers. “Hello, Harry,” he said, “if it’s any consolation, this should put you in pole position for the Camera Club next term.” Membership of the slightly suspect after-hours school society was restricted to the prefects….and even then only a few qualified. “Thank you, Sir,” he replied, as Serve You appeared, apparently about to do the deed.


She was simply a stunner, with her severe style of short black hair, which was so reminiscent of Jacqueline Pearce. Her on-screen character of the Supreme Commander of the Terran Federation had featured in Blake’s 7. It was a 1970’s Sci-Fi TV series, which he’d seen several times with his father. As a bonding exercise it had worked wonderfully, when they’d both wanked worthlessly with Servalan. Interesting, since he was sure he hadn’t seen her name on the long list of Affronted Ladies? He watched whilst she picked up the French flogger….Thwackk “….Ahhh….” he gasped as the seven strands of sheer suffering strafed his shoulders, “….thank you Ma’am, I’m so sorry for my sins.” She smiled, and replaced the flogger onto its hook. “Thank YOU, Harry,” she murmured, “it was a kind thought, asking The SS to add me afterwards….” Ohh, “….I’ll make an entry on your Deviance Diary, so we can have a sex session next term….” she sniggered, “….I don’t mind a bit of role-play….since I’m sure you’d like to shackle Servalan in your study, whilst whipping her well.”


He too would have been happy to help, but at least it was Genuine Jam Tomorrow for the younger year. “Ohh,” they both moaned, as she wiggled her waist whilst walking away. “Stop, guilty girl,” he called out, “bare your bottom and bend over, since it’s a clear case of Incitement.” She flipped up her pleasingly pleated blue skirt, lowered her naughty knicks and assumed the Position.



“One, thank you….Çur,” she said woodenly, claiming canees’ privilege. It entitled her to stay silent, apart from the affirmation of appreciation, and cane count. “Another stroke for mentally misspelling the salutation,” he said, “complete with cedilla….” and the second slut today trying the trick, “….this time I shall hit your hiney harder.”



“OOH….TWO, thank you, SIR,” she gasped, sounding so much like screwing, “thank you for swishing me so soundly, Sir….I know it was necessary.” He glanced at Harry Herbert Orwell, whose straining shaft saw it similarly. “Servalan Ewell,” he mused, “I enjoyed your company very much last Saturday when The Amazns were operating Amazonia….” there were several gasps, “….for what was hopefully my very last ever cross-country run at this illustrious educational establishment….” but Never Say Never At St Sticks, even so, “….sort yourself out, and be about your business.” She stood slowly. “Ohh,” she gasped as she lifted her naughty knicks, and smoothed down her skirt. “It was my pleasure, Sir,” she said, giving him a wide wink before walking away a second time.


He’d managed to miss several Affronted Ladies whilst dishing discipline, but there wasn’t any shortage of same. Then Daisy Cheney and Ivy Leek both appeared. Both were wearing Tanningtown style white leather business suits, as befitted their status of retired Registrars, “Hello, Shagger….” said Daisy Chain, “….should you fancy taking another Working Weekend….” or even a week, “….at Bindery House over the holidays, we can offer you a half price discount for sometime scholars.” He nodded. “I’ll….well, bare it in mind, Mesdames,” he said wittily, “since I could always append it onto Summer School….ohh,” he added as they stroked his cheeks, and as always their tender touch was 1000V.


Then The Ivy League picked up the tawse, and moved around the pillory….CRACKK “….OWW,” gasped H2O as it beat his bottom, and she handed it over to Daisy Chain….Crackk “….UGHHH,” as it struck his scrotum squarely, “I’m so sorry for thinking such Inappropriate thoughts about you….uhhh….Mesdames,” he moaned. “Screw you soon, Shagger….” said Ivy Leek, as the tawse was replaced, “….and Harry too, in his turn,” added Daisy Cheney, whilst they walked away. So some more Genuine Jam Tomorrow.


Then The Trouble Triplets all appeared, with obvious intent. “You’re not on the list, guilty girls,” he said sourly, “and anyway, you’re supposed to be serious subbies.” They smiled sweetly, whilst flexing their fingers. “Yes, Sir….” said one….although barring baring their bottoms, he’d no idea which. Their Mother had tattooed identification letters onto their bums at birth, in order to tell them apart, “….we ARE indeed….but we still enjoy knackering nuts with the best of them. Alas, in view of the mêlée after Harry’s Big One, we weren’t able to do so during his previous stint….so now’s our chance.” She walked behind him, and took hold of his testicles. “AHHH….AHHH….AHHH,” he gasped as he was knackered neatly, “AHHH….AYEEEEE….I submit, MA’AM,” he moaned, and a pen was put into his hand.


Uh..huh….so she was Kynaston Tribble, as stated on her Stretch Slave Sheet. “I’ll just demand my dues,” she said, “and then it’s Jinnie’s turn.” Thus Virginia. “AHHH….AHHH….” he gasped as his scrotum was stretched, “AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AYEEEEE….I am your stretch slave, MA’AM.” So one down and two to go. “Will you be birched over the Block later, guilty girl?” he enquired. “Yes, Sir,” she replied, happily, “it’ll really make my day.” So his sinful Sister would probably be the same. He’d leave them to it, since time was passing, and he wouldn’t want to be late for Saucy Harry. “AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….” he heard whilst he walked away, even as Jinnie The Jinx started work. The sounds of a suffering scrotum slowly faded as he left the playground, and began his journey to the Home Farm.


The sun was hot as he finally arrived, and strode through the dusty courtyard. There was no shortage of Farmers….or prime porkers plus salutary sows, so the facility had proved popular.


The Milking Shed

In Lac Veritas

 In Milk There Is Truth, he recalled the Latin logo meant. There was the usual Dantean darkness inside. As his eyes adjusted, he could see four sinful studs lined up along one wall….all shackled and ironed. It wasn’t hot, but apart from which, it was clearly hell on earth. They were all unclothed but not hooded, so none were shy flowers. Their necks were loosely noosed, with their shafts nozzled and connected to the milking machinery. Apparently it was specially set for these sessions, and much milder, so they wouldn’t be spunked to sterility. “Uhhh….uhhh,” they moaned intermittently whilst shaking slightly, clearly still under substantial sexual stress.


Two were unknowns, the third Harry Callaghan and….oops, the fourth was his father. Four floozies were staring intently at their better, or rather worse halves. Three were wearing Tanningtown style standard black business suits, which meant they were probably previous prefects. Two were tending a tripod plus camera with which to record the scene for posterity. “Hello….Mum,” he said to the third, however they all turned towards him. “Hello, David,” she replied, “as you can see, your philandering father opted for some Farmyard Fun and Frolics this afternoon….although it’ll certainly cut down on his chronic copulation of cute cunts.” Then the fourth floozy strutted towards him. “Mmmm,” he moaned as she kissed him, hard. “You don’t call, you don’t write for two terms,” said Saucy Harry in accusatory fashion, “so I had to make my own blasted booking in your confounded Cute Cunt Calendar, Shagger.”


There was a sudden gasp of surprise from one of the unknowns. “Greetings,” she said, offering her hand, “we haven’t met, but you know my small son….” he did? “….I’m Tyler Watson….” Ohh, “….otherwise known as Tight Twat.” He shook it. “Pleased to meet you, Ma’am,” he replied, thinking things through, “presumably your husband took your name upon marriage….rather than the other way around?” She nodded. “Well sussed, Shagger,” she said, “and needless to say, he’s an open-husband….” Ohh, “….one reason we did so was because I’m a disciplinary Domme….” suddenly he wondered about his Mother, in similar circumstances? “….but Gerald was highly happy to be rid of his surname, having been born Winklebotham….” HE would, as well, “….he was called Winkler at school, and as you know, we passed it on.”


His Mother smiled, even as more milkees moaned. “We did consider the option, David,” she said, “but to be honest, I preferred Shagton to Whapshott.” Fair enough. “He was most grateful,” she continued, “when you punished his poppins posterior with its first formal flogging at St Sticks last autumn.” A phrase which seemed to have stuck. “Always happy to help, Ma’am,” he ventured, “but presumably this other lovely Lady is Mrs Joan Jones, with her….err….open-husband John on the milking machine?” There was a neat nod, and she shook his hand. “Yes,” she replied, “and before you ask, we were both born Jones.” So the problem had never arisen with them.


“What sordid secrets has our sinful son been spilling, Shagger?” asked Tight Twat. “He told me about some of the several suspect AV Records he’d secretly seen, Mesdames,” he explained, pointing towards the camera, “and presumably another of which is presently in progress?” There were two guilty grins, “You’re welcome to borrow some, Shagger,” said Tight Twat. “I’d like to watch them as well,” said his Mother, “so I’ll give you our address before we go.” He turned towards the fourth floozy, dressed in the Strict Spinster style. It was a short severe double-breasted tweed jacket, with a matching strict skirt which would roll up as required, and long black Sinatra-style thigh-boots. It was tied tight around her waist by what was clearly a detachable black leather belt.


“Might I introduce you all to my driving examiner?” he asked, “she’s Mrs Harriet Palmer….with open-husband Harry Callaghan on the machine. Neither attended St Sticks, but they’re known as Saucy Harry, after the proprietary brand of sauce….” which bore her initials, “….and Dirty Harry….” after the ancient actor Clint Eastwood’s character….” he paused, “….Mr Watson was one of The Six X-hibitinists, so presumably it’s the same for Mr Jones….?” two more nods, “….in the circumstances, I’d venture to suggest dorm 6M for you two lovely Ladies….? two grins, “which makes all three of us from the six milkers,” put in his Mother, “….although David’s dad hails from The Six Canees. When were you pupils In The Pink? For me, it was Year LXVI.” There were two slight smiles. “All four of us were so in Year LXXIII,” replied Tight Twat, “which means we must have missed you.”


Then a pretty personage approached, wearing a soiled and stained black oilskin overall. It was only loosely affixed, and he was sure she wore nothing else underneath….apart from a pair of matching boots. Despite its obvious functionality, it was plain she was particularly pokeable. Not bad going….but then some lovely Ladies would look good wearing a dustbin liner. “Shagger,” she squealed, “I was starting to suspect I wouldn’t be screwed before you left school….” the lovely Ladies all looked at each other with obvious resignation, “….I’ll not take No for an answer this time. Do you want your Sex Thrashing of six strokes prior or post poking?” He smiled slightly. “I’ve a whipping boy with me this afternoon, Ma’am,” he replied to the Milkmaid, “my supremely submissive father will be happy to have the hits.” He gestured towards him on the wall.


“I suppose I should have seen the similar seven inches of circumcised sin, Shagger,” she said wryly. “I’ll be delighted to deal with the difficulty, Ma’am,” said his Mother, “he’ll be a Dell boy a little later, when I whip him in the woods.” With the name taken from the ancient sitcom, Only Fools and Horses. “Might I accompany you to your office, Ma’am?” he suggested, “since you did offer to show me your….well, production statistics?” It made a change from etchings. “So you’re on a Fuck Fork, Shagger,” said Saucy Harry, sourly, “do remember you’re down to do me later.” He nodded. “Most certainly, Ma’am,” he confirmed, “but there shouldn’t be a problem with poking your pussy. There’s still several hours with which to regain the wherewithal. Especially since in the interim I’ll have been birched over the Block….” there were five gasps, “….as an encore, after all the prizes have all been awarded. I daresay some sinful sixdeen strokes should successfully get my gonads going again.”  


Margarine checked on all four felons, and then took his hand. “So it’ll be another few minutes’ more male moaning, Joan,” muttered Tyler Watson as they walked away into the deeper darkness. Then they reached a door, which he pushed open and stood aside. “Thank you, Shagger,” she said, entering into daylight. Sure enough, she’d essentially been bare beneath the oilskins. “I’d like to take Tickling Tarts with tongue,” she said dreamily, “plus some simultaneous strafing for such sin.” Shoulders, seat and scrotum? “Shall I kneel naked in the Position For Pleasuring, Ma’am?” he asked as she nodded, and undid her overalls. Quickly, he shed his clothes, folding them neatly onto her desk. As he knelt, she spread her legs wide and picked up a French flogger.


“Start with the serious stuff,” she said, “never mind Humping Harlots with head....” THWACKK “….AHHH,” he gasped, meeting her martinet, “….UHHH….” she moaned as his tongue touched twat, “….since I’m ready to roll….UHHH….what with stroking myself silly on these sessions….UHHH….seeing so many straining shafts….UHHH….secreting so much semen….UHHH….UHHH,” she added as he delved deeper….Thwapp “….UGHHH….” Thwapp “….UGHHH,” he gasped as his manhood met her martinet, “….UHHH….UHHH….you really RUDE wretch….UHHH….” so who’d asked whom? “….deeper….UHHH….damn your distended dick….” definitely….THWACKK “….AHHH….” THWACKK “….AHHH,” he gasped as the seven strands of sheer suffering strafed his shoulders and seat, “….I’m cumming….UHHH….” THWACKK “….AHHH….” suddenly, she was shaking, “….YESS….YESS….YESS.” So success in every packet. “Oww….” he gasped as he was hauled to his feet by his ears, “….Mmmm,” he added as she kissed him hard.


“Screw me, Shagger,” she said, “I want some spunk inside me, soonest.” Highly happy to help, Ma’am. “Uhhh,” he moaned as he fucked her fancy, and a pulsing penis passed pussy. “UHHH….UHHH,” he repeated, and she held his hiney as he humped her hard. Dammit….he was already falling over the edge. “UHHH….I don’t know whether I’m cumming or going, Ma’am,” he said wittily, “….UHHH….very fucking funny….Shagguhhhh….YESS….YESS,” she moaned from a….well, second cumming, “….YESS….UHHH….YESS….Mmmm,” he moaned, kissing him in copulation as the room revolved.