Oxford and Cambridge
Joint Matriculation Board
Advanced Level Mathematics – paper 1
Eight questions should be attempted out of the twelve. Total time allowed: 3 hours. Candidates should ensure all sheets are numbered, and placed in the folder supplied, together with their name and school. Talking is not permitted at any time. Candidates may not leave the room early, except to hand in their papers. Credit will be given for neat and orderly work.
As for the latter, it was the same exhortation as appeared on Lines. Surely this was an example of subaudition, where a word or phrase meant something different to what it purported? What the bastards were REALLY saying was: ‘If it’s a right mess, we’ll knock off marks for sheer hassle value.’ At The Styx, such sub-standard Lines were simply declared Inadmissible, and had to be done again….duly doubled. It was indeed an excellent incentive to get them right the first time. After all, during his period In The Pink, he’d had plenty of practice with which to prove the point of principle.
Then he saw the invigilator stride up onto the Podium. “Stop Writing, Everyone….” said Jeremy Knowle, deliberately. It made his sentences sound as though every word were capitalized, “….Scripts In Folders. You May Then Leave The Hall Quietly.” He’d never been in any of his classes, for which he was grateful, since the affectation would….well, grate fully after a while. Certainly Know All sounded like a bit of a know-all. Silently, he shut his folder for the final time, and wished it well. Whether he’d be taking up his place at the University of Lancashire in the autumn would partly be determined by how he’d fared during the past three hours. “Ohh,” he murmured softly as he stood, since his seat was still slightly sore. He’d enjoyed his sex session in the morning, a final fuck for the condemned felon before going to the gallows. Inevitably, it had….well, cum at the cost of a Caning For Cunt.
He ambled away towards the double doors, somewhat light-headed. After all, persistent nagging worry about these exams had been his constant companion for nearly two years. In a fortnight, they’d finally be out of his hair….one way or the other. Then memory reminded him how even if he were to be successful, it would merely mean more of the same to follow. There’d be first and second year examinations at University….let alone finals.
Once outside, in a haze of relief for still being alive, he exhaled with sheer gratitude. Several of his prefect peers obviously agreed with his sentiments, and did the same. “Oi….wanker boy?” Dimly, he heard a voice calling to him. His brain focussed, as he turned towards his prefect peer. “Were you talking to me, Lionel?” he asked politely. “Obviously,” replied Lying Disgrace, “since you hailed from dorm 6W last year….” very good, but so what? “….did you spot the trick in question 4?” One of the many things he hated about exams was post-mortems. Finding out from someone else how he’d spent half an hour getting an answer wrong wasn’t his idea of fun. In this instance though, he was spared the indignity.
“No….” he replied, smiling sweetly as he walked away, “….fortunately, it wasn’t one which I attempted.” There was a slight sniff, as Lionel Disraeli-Greys turned his attention to another victim. He saw several dozen souls starting their trek into the long, dark cold corridors, and decided he’d go cross-country instead. So he took the side exit by the main notice-board, and stepped out onto the grass. But as for his possible future at University, he considered over several breaths of fresh air, it should be one small step at a time. By kind courtesy of his Patron, he’d been granted the luxury for a free choice of degree course. He’d heard how being a science student meant massive amounts of work on a daily basis. They all had a full timetable of four, hour-long morning lectures, followed by laboratory work every afternoon. Needless to say, their evenings were taken by writing it all up.
By contrast, it appeared the classics scholars simply spent most of their days in earnest conversation whilst drinking copious cups of coffee, complete with convivial company. There was the occasional optional lecture, coupled with a few tutorials. So despite his hopeful three A-Levels in Maths, Physics and Biology, he might very well select something simple and straightforward….say Psychology or Sociology? If it were merely a matter of writing reams of reasoned rubbish once in a while, whilst sounding sincere, he was all for it. This tack would enable him to enjoy the full fruits of a University education….books, beer and Bimbos, as Sir Digby Vaillance had so politely put it.
Several minutes later, he reached the side door to the Senior Dorms wing, and stepped inside. So why not avoid the crush completely, as he looked carefully along the corridor? Having confirmed it was empty, he fumbled inside his jacket pocket and extracted his Cunt Casanova key. Then he inserted the Yale into the locked broom cupboard door, and opened it. Once inside, it silently swung shut behind him. The motion sensors acted at once, and the bulkhead lights lit. He continued to the back of the cupboard, and started up the first of the secret spiral stone steps.
Round and round he went….oops, there was light up ahead. Cautiously, he crept up to what must be Level 2, and peered into the occupied broom cupboard. He could see a black figure bending forward by the door, which was just ajar. Logically, this must be Hercules Poke, who’d been sitting at the back of the hall. He was his Cunt Casanova colleague and firm friend, who enjoyed study 24 on this level. “Ohh….” gasped Poke Her as his seat was stroked softly. He released the door, which duly closed quietly, “….sod it, Shagger….you REALLY gave me a shock. Obviously, one doesn’t normally expect company at times like this….” he licked his lips, “….mind you, if you fancy fondling flogged fannies, you can soothe my stripes. I made your Missus this morning, and she hits hineys hard….as you well know.” He nodded, as his prefect peer lowered his trousers and matching black underpants. Sure enough, he could count all twelve….the dozen due of her cunt currency. “Ohh….ohh….ohh…ohh,” he moaned for several minutes.
“I hope it helps, Cully,” he said, as the other replaced his clothes, “but returning to the matter in hand. Presumably you were waiting for the corridor to empty, so you could sneak safely into your study?” His prefect peer nodded. “Got it in one, Shagger,” he said, “I loathe post-mortems….” thou too, Brutus, “….and was accosted on my way out of the assembly hall by Lying Disgrace. He started by saying: Oi….exhibitionist….” again fair enough, since Cully been one of The Six X-hibiti♂nists of dorm 6X, “….however he gloatingly wanted to tell me all about question 4….the bastard. It was worse, because I DIDN’T notice the twist, having to take logs of logs. Doing it the long way must have taken ten minutes of my time needlessly. The sod’s still standing outside his study talking avidly to someone I can’t quite see. Almost certainly he’s telling them all about his extreme cleverness….” he paused, “….he needs to be taken down, and quickly.”
His views precisely. “I was wondering,” he said slowly, “whether he might meet a scheming succubus this evening?” The other smiled widely. “I’ve long since suspected you’d know something about these various stunts of late,” he said, “so tell me how you’ve worked them?” He smiled. “It’s really very simple,” he replied, “my succubus is Tarka Susannah Boughs….you know her well, since you did the dirty deed and deflowered her. She told me you poked her with your poker.” Poke Her nodded. “As one of the Flaunts of dorm 5F,” he said, “I agree she’s made for the job. Nobody could hardly fail to notice the long silky blonde hair which simply seemed to stream over her smooth shoulders….” there was a short silence as both bad boys remembered it in reverie, “….anyway, she wears her Succubus Silver Shawl, as so many people have sort-of-seen….” SNAPP….went the other’s fingers, “….vanishing into the æther….well, where we’re standing?” he asked.
“Exactly,” he agreed, these secret spiral steps have always been succubus haunts down the years.” Then his firm friend pursed his lips. “How do you ensure the stooge stays sleeping?” he asked. “A phial of Chloral Hydrate dropped into a drink works wonders,” he replied, “which does take some doing, but best by some assistance from a sinful slut….” he paused, and considered, “….I reckon I’ve a plan which will work, but it’ll require the assistance of my junior fag. I’ll brief her accordingly, and we’ll set the stunt for half past eight, since both Babes will have to do Prep this evening as usual. If you’d like to be in on this, could you could kindly sound out Sukey….?” the other nodded, “….since you’re situated so close to the stooge, perhaps she and Kelly can both change in your study….?” another nod,
“….I’ll pop down when we’re ready for the Off. It may mean a delay in doing your date, however hopefully she won’t mind the wait….?” he paused, “….the only difficulty concerns Sukey’s reward, since she expects to be screwed by someone….in addition to the stooge. She’s happy with a Bi-some threesome, however I already have one of those this evening as it is.” Hercules Poke grinned widely. “I’ve Late Lezzie Lizzie,” he replied, “so there’s no problem. But won’t your junior fag be wanting a reward, too? Neither of us could help her, since she’s still underage.”
Carefully, he considered the query. “Perhaps you might offer to screw her after she turns sweet sixteen?” he suggested, “on a conjugal visit to St Sticks? I’ve a number of those planned, and I daresay you have as well?” His Cunt Casanova colleague grinned. “Yes,” he confirmed, “even though it’s considered cradle-snatching by some….” normally those who hadn’t been asked to do the despicable deed of defloration, “….so you can suggest she signs herself up into the forward bookings section of my Penis Presenter….if she wishes.”
Which would work well. “Thanks, Cully,” he said, “it’s been a business doing pleasure with you….” a phrase apparently popular with Happy Hookers? “….do you want to check the corridor again?” The other opened the door ajar again, and peered out. “Assume it’s all on….unless you hear otherwise, Shagger,” he whispered, “so until later.” Then with a wave, he stepped out into the corridor. The door closed quietly behind him, and he retreated back inside the depths to the secret staircase. Again he ascended the spiral steps, even as he dimly heard the main school clock tower known as Big Ben striking for 4pm. Very soon, he reached the Level 6 broom cupboard, and the sensor did its stuff. Cautiously, he pushed open the door, and all was empty. He crept out, and the door swung silently shut. Seconds later reached the sanctity of his own study.
David Shagton
Quis illum sceleratum fuisse putavisset
Who Would Have Thought He Was A Rascal, he reflected as always. He stepped inside, and glanced up at the wall clock. Excellent, since it was 4.03pm, and his fags should be arriving shortly. So what was next? Really he ought to spend some time with final revision, since it was his Physics Practical in the morning. Evidently his personal demon had been at work, putting two so close together. However, he’d award himself the luxury of a shower first, to soothe away some stresses of the afternoon. So he stepped into the shower room, and stripped slowly.
Then he entered the cubicle, soaped himself and turned on the tap. Bliss….as the warm water cascaded down. “Do you need any help in there….Shagger….?” asked Mitchell Mary Murphy, opening the door, and pointedly omitting any salutation. She was well within her rights, since he was starkers and hence devoid of his prefect’s privileges, “….with some scrotum strafing….or shaft stroking….” she grimaced, “….or screwing, although I see you’ve another sodding threesome this evening. So I suppose I’ll have to go whistle on the latter score.” He smiled out at her. “If you want to be helpful….” he said, taking the hose off its hook, and shifting the shower setting to its strongest jet, “….you can best, bust, baste and blast my balls.” As his protégé, and third cousin Harry Herbert Orwell had once so eloquently put it.
She smiled slightly, and turned up the temperature several notches. “FUCK….AHHH….MITCHES….AHHH….AHHH….you Bitch….FUCK,” he gasped, “me balls….AHHH….AHHH…..AYEEEEE….FUCKK, you wanton wicked wench.” He turned off the tap, shivering under sheer sexual stress. “Anytime, Shagger,” she said, mouthing him a kiss. “Thank you,” he said, “kindly hand me some Naccatape and a towel, unless you’re going to tell me to do so my sodding self. In which case I will….although I shall see to it your seat subsequently suffers….” a prefect not only held all the aces, but all the trumps, too, “….then there’s a large pile of ironing which isn’t going to get done by itself.”
She nodded with evident resignation, and retreated as he stepped out of the shower, “Ohhh….ohhh,” he gasped as he stretched his scrotum, and bound his balls. As it claimed correctly, This ¾ inch wide white torment tape enables testicles to be tied temptingly tight to taste. Then he took the towel, and dried himself down. Having had a crew cut without the option at the end of the Spring holidays, his hair was still quite short. It would have just grown nicely before his next appointment in a Reformatory….when he’d be shaved similarly. He combed his hair, put on a black shower robe, and padded out into the main study. “Was it one whack each for lamentable Lateness?” he asked, picking up his clipboard. “For me yes, Sir,” said 3M politely, as he turned the pages.
St Stricktlands School – Fagging Beat Sheet for:- David Shagton
Senior/Junior fag (delete as applicable):- Mitchell Mary Murphy Sheet no:- 34
Dorm:- 6K School Term and Year:- LXXXIX
For the use of Prefects only. When all whacks on this sheet have been taken, it should be delivered to the School Secretary. This enables the punishments detailed thereon to be transcribed onto the scholar’s Discipline Report. Please write neatly and legibly, otherwise penalties may be applied.
4. Lateness: 1
“What about you?” he asked of his junior fag, working hard at the kitchenette? “Two, Sir,” she replied, “since I was eight minutes late.” He turned over to her sheet.
7. Lateness: 2
“I have an important errand for you, Kelly,” he said, “and one which will require a certain amount of skulduggery….” inevitably, she was all ears at once, “….kindly pop down to study 19 on Level 2. I want you to present my compliments to Lying Disgrace, and ask him if you could kindly cadge some milk?” She stared at him in horror. “But he’ll say No, Sir,” she replied, desperately.
“Almost certainly,” he replied, “in which case you’ll wail at him, and say you’ve already tried elsewhere. You’ll say I’m a terrible tyrant, and how I’ve already beaten you badly for your failure. Then you’ll suggest you show him your seat, with some six stripes. When this doesn’t work either, you should play your trump card, which is to suggest a quid pro quo social call this evening after Prep….” a Reciprocal Exchange, “….you’ll want to wear your Happy Hooker hosiery, perhaps even with a private demonstration of how my Wanko Whacks for Cute Cunt Classes work. Report to study 24 soonest possible after Prep, where you can get changed. Then it’s only three doors down to do the deed. When you attend, you’ll suggest drinks….to loosen up the lovely Lady a little. Alcohol’s allowed, since it’s a study, and not a public house. However, you’ll slip him a phial of Chloral Hydrate, and he’ll be on the floor in a matter of minutes. After he’s unconscious, you’ll return to Poke Her’s study, where we’ll all be waiting….with my scheming succubus. Lionel’s been a right pain to us both this afternoon, let alone several other prefects….and it’s high time he was taught a lesson.”
Standing by the ironing board, Mitchell Mary Murphy smiled wryly. He suspected she knew the gist of it from conversations with her favourite friend Richella Ruth Rhodes. “I should have known you were involved somewhere with all this succubus subterfuge, Sir,” said The Pirate, “and whilst I’m highly happy to help, I hope I might profit from my services somewhere along the line?”
Definitely. “One whack for a caneable Question, Kelly,” he said, “and a second for Impertinently Imparting Information. But your reward will be a forward entry on his Coitus Calendar for some time after next February. It’s a facility which few in your year will be able to achieve….if you wish it….” her eyes of adoration were confirmation in themselves, “….alas we will both pay in pain. You first of all, since in order to ensure we have….well, local colour, the six strokes to which I referred will be real. However, I too will suffer somewhat, since there’s a point of principle with succubus stunts. The perpetrator pays the price with the succubus’ Sex Thrashing, in place of the stooge….” he shrugged, “….and I’ve a Bi-some threesome this evening, followed by a date tomorrow morning. Therefore, I’d appreciate having the hits now….which you’re welcome to do, when you’ve lined things up for later. So if you’d like to bare your bottom and bend over, we’ll start the rears rolling.”
Coyly, she emerged from the kitchenette, with her hands held on her hiney. “Yes, Sir,” she said, “good and hard….” she grinned, “….I’ll make it up to you upon my return, Sir….” she assumed the Position, lowered her green knickers to the floor, and flipped up her skirt, “….ohh….SIR,” she added with a wiggle of her waist, as he stroked her seat with the stick. “One more whack for Incitement, Kelly,” he said, “you should know better by now.”
Swishhhthwackkkk
“One, thank you, Sir,” she said woodenly, and claiming canees’ privilege. It entitled her to stay silent, apart from the cut count, some suitable salutation and an affirmation of appreciation. “It’ll have to be individual strokes, Kelly,” he said, “rather than in the staccato style.”
Swishhhthwackkkk
“Ooh….two, thank you, Sir,” she gasped lightly, somehow sounding so much like sex. He’d find out whether she really WAS an OO girl when he fucked her for the first time the following February. “I want Lying Disgrace to see six stripes spread all across your adorable arse,” he explained cheerfully.
Swishhhthwackkkk
“Yeee….three, thank you, Sir,” she yelped. “I’m sure you understand I’m doing this out of necessity,” he continued didactically, “and not simply because I enjoy beating your bottom.” She sniffed. “Certainly, Sir,” she said sourly, “and nothing at all to do with stress relief, following your exam this afternoon?” Spoken with some insight, he agreed.
SWISHHTHWACKKKK
“YIKES….FOUR….it was a GOOD one….ooh….thank you, SIR,” she gasped. “Which was another caneable Question, in addition to such shocking Sarcasm,” he said sternly, “even if it IS totally true.” It was always nice when one’s efforts were appreciated.
Swishhhthwackkkk
“Yaroooh….five, thank you, Sir,” she gasped. “I suppose I could put this down as a Maintenance Caning,” he said, “however, for present purposes, we’ll say it includes one for being such a lazy useless good-for-nothing junior fag.” The catch-all crime, for which anyone could always be culpable. He crooked the cane under his arm, and picked up his clipboard again. Stopping short at the penultimate stroke like this was simply studied sadism. Her nervous system was already agonizing at an aching arse, yet the caning wasn’t quite concluded. It was a technique used by the best beaters in the business, of which he was one.
8. Incitement: 1, Impertinently Imparting Information: 1, Total: 2 - Taken
9. Lazy useless good-for-nothing fag: 1: Sarcasm: 1: Questions: 2 – Total: 4 - Taken
“Now I’ll graciously give you the coup de grâce,” he said, colloquially called the Cut Of Grace.
Swishhhthwackkkk
“Yeouchh….six, thank you, Sir,” she gasped, “thank you for caning me so convincingly, Sir.” Carefully, he inspected the six stripes, and hoped they’d pass muster? “Sort yourself out, Kelly,” he said, “and then get going.” She stood slowly, “Ahh,” she gasped as she raised her green knickers, and the hem stroked her sore seat. Then she smoothed down her skirt. “I’ll be back soon, Sir,” she said as she collected a jug, and flounced from the room. “I assume you’re sort-of up to speed on succubus stunts, Mitches?” he asked. “Yes, Sir,” she replied, “Harry’s mentioned most of it, although I still don’t see how the succubus disappears.”
She would soon. “Follow me,” he said, “and I’ll show you straight away….but this should go no further than your favourite friends.” He opened the study door, and held it for her. Senior fag she might be, but there was still space for gallantry. He left the door wide open as they continued to the locked broom cupboard. “Ohh,” she gasped, as he opened it, “I always wanted to know what the Yale key on your wardrobe peg opened,” she said as he followed her inside, and the bulkhead lights illuminated. “It makes a change from showing me your etchings, Sir,” she said as she inspected the spiral staircase, “A whole sodding year I’ve been at this school, and I never knew these existed….” a standard sentiment expressed by scholars, “….I suppose they go to all floors in the wing.” He nodded.
“Now you also know how Cunt Casanovas can flit around so easily and invisibly,” he confirmed, as she crowded him, somehow standing very close. “Perhaps a quick kiss and a cuddle, Sir,” she suggested. “All right….Mmmm,” he moaned as she kissed him hard, and he handled her hiney. “You haven’t lost your touch on my tush, Sir,” she said breathlessly when they’d separated. Cautiously, he opened the door, and again the corridor was clear. He opened it wide and followed her outside, watching it silently swing shut behind him. Several seconds later, they were back in his study, and she continued with her ironing. He’d use the opportunity of sorting out his Physics books, for use after he’d eaten.
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