first formal flogging

Newsletter - June 2022

Hopefully everyone in the UK (and beyond) enjoyed their Jubilee weekend, which suddenly seems a long time ago. Apparently, HM the Queen has met a total of 14 USA presidents during her incredibly long reign....not bad going, by any standards.

Meantime, the concluding quarter of chapter 231 has now been published, finalizing Shagger's day out to the seaside.

Next month sees the start of a mini-series of three chapters (232-3-4) which all tell the sorry saga of William Shanks' rustication week, and written from his perspective. Amazingly enough, he's a....well, reformed character. (This was ably assisted by his recent period of purgatory in Madam Dee's Reformatory, with everything it entailed).  The process is ably assisted by the felons in dorms 5X and 6X. (The X-posers and The Six X-hibitionists, all of whom have personality, poise and panache, expecially with the presentation of a pulsing penis in public)

Please do make the most of these chapters, as there's little left of the Summer Term, when the story shifts from St Sticks to other places. 

Carrot Head part 2

 

231 – Part (4) of (4)

Seaside 

David dozed on his derrière, and then turned onto his tummy. It seemed lounging around doing nothing was far more tiring than he’d previously considered. He’d enjoyed lunch, which had even included a big bottle of sparkling water. The last time he’d heard a church clock striking was for 3pm, which was a while ago. Then he heard a fetching floozy. “Nice arse,” it said, sotto voce, “can I have a closer look….? it waited for no negative “….ohh,” he moaned as his trunks were hauled off his hiney, “….definitely a neat little bottom….” FLASHH “….ohh,” he added in slight shock, mentally adding another dollar to his tally. In reverse circumstances, this would all be utterly unacceptable behaviour.

 

It would be deemed sexual harassment, let alone assault, and a sentence of six months in the slammer. OMG….she was writing on his fanny with a felt-tip pen….SMACKK “….Oww,” he gasped as he looked around. However his antagonist was already ambling away, whilst wiggling her waist. She turned her head and winked once. “AHHH,” he gasped, wondering as always why it was he should be so totally turned on when lovely Ladies were mean to him? Then she was gone, so he rolled over again to take his tush from terrible temptation by teasing Tarts. The sun was still hot, so he closed his eyes, and listened to the soothing sounds of the seaside.

 

Æons later, he opened them since he seemed to be in shadow? “Nice knackers,” said a second sinful specimen, standing at his feet, and shielding him from the sun. Clearly By-The-Balls Ltd knew what they were doing with their advertising claims. “Nice knockers….AHHH,” he replied flippantly, staring at a brace of beautiful Bristols, even as the bracelet bit him….and he wasn’t even a boobs boy. “Something I said?” she asked. “I’m so sorry, Miss,” he replied, “it’s because my lovely Ladies left me inside a Kali’s Teeth Bracelet.” She knelt down beside him, and softly stroked his shaft. “AHHH,” he gasped at the inevitable result. “Mmmm,” she said, “I see what you mean. Do let me know when you’re next in Slappham at a loose end….” she sniggered softly, “….or your end is loose.” Ha bloody ha, as she too took a felt-tip pen, and wrote something on his left hand before she too wiggled away. Damn his Missus, since despite two obvious offers, it would only be Genuine Jam Tomorrow. Or maybe this evening, always assuming she graciously removed the KTB? He held up his hand to his face: Trixy 24069….thus supposedly a Slappham phone number, as he closed his eyes?

 

According to the wall calendar, it was 15^th March 55BC. Complete claptrap, his brain objected, even though he was kneeling before the impressive figure of Julius Caesar. Beware the Ides….whatever they were? Even so, he remembered from his History lessons how they related to this date, apparently with regrettable results? “Good afternoon, Mr Shagton….” he said in impeccably cultured standard English. Surely this too was total twaddle, since the language had yet to be invented….by a cool thousand years? “….your sentence is one worse than death, since I shall send you to Severus Scrotum….” the name seemed nasty, “….my court Castrator….” Oops, “….you will be known as Enoch the Eunuch….” as he’d feared, “….you’ll soon be serving Caesar, together with the harlots in my harem….” oh dear, “….guards, take him away.” The walls wavered, and then he was lying flat on the floor, with an enormous axe balanced on his bollocks. “So….” said a villain’s voice, full of hatred, “….sodding Shagger, it seems….” Oops, again, “….not so cocky, are we now?” said a second, as the walls of the room came crashing down, and everything started to spin.

 

He opened his eyes to see both pairs of twins standing over him. One of them had his bare foot on his balls….hence the axe in dreamland? “It’s taken us forever to find you, what with the bathing beach so completely crowded,” said one of the guilty girls, “but now we have, it’s time we showed you some of our own hospitality….” uh..huh, “….we’ll make you a mound….” hopefully not a permanent one? “….the bad boys will do some digging,” added the other, “so we’ll watch, whilst Will and Michael make a trench.” They both sat on him, one on his legs, and the second on his stomach. It enabled him to engage in some Staring At Skirts at close quarters, wrapped enticingly around an adorable arse. “Uhhh,” he added as his testicles were tickled, “….AHHH,” he added as the bracelet countermanded any erection.

 

“Let’s have a little look at this KTB thing you mentioned to Mother….” once again, he felt his trunks being lowered involuntarily, “….ooh….yes, I like it a lot. Does it hurt, Shagger?” Surely the ministry of the bleedin’ obvious? “Only when I’m stimulated sexually,” he muttered. “Like this?” she asked as she leaned forward, allowing him to indulge in Spying Up Skirts. “AHHH,” he gasped in renewed penile pain as he peeked at pussy. “I’ll have to buy one for my boyfriend….” she said, “….me too,” added the other, “they seem such fun….” for whom, as his trunks were roughly replaced? “….but the fellas have finished....” oh, dear, “….it’s time you joined the daisy department….well almost, since we’ll leave your extremities exposed to the elements.” At least this was something. “Ohh….” he gasped, as he was roughly rolled, “….OHH,” he repeated, as he was tipped into the trench on his back. Then they covered him with sand.

 

Several minutes later they were finished, and sure enough, only his head and feet were visible. “Would you like an ice cream, Shagger?” one of the guilty girls asked. “No, thanks,” he replied. “Such a shame,” said the other, “since you’re getting one anyway.” He waited whilst the bad boys padded away, and the guilty girls amused themselves by tickling his toes. “OHHH….OHHH….OHHH….OHHH,” he gasped, attempting to thresh wildly, and failing dismally. The weight of all the sand they’d heaped on him was sufficiently heavy to immobilize him completely. “Since it seems you like Spying Up Skirts so much….” said one, “….you can have another treat,” added the other as they both stood very close to his head. “Uhhh….AHHH,” he moaned as he was treated to two tushes, “….AHHH,” he added as they turned around, and now it was two twats.

 

 

“Here’s your ice cream cone, Shagger,” said one of the bad boys. “Ughh,” he gasped as it was applied upside down onto his nose. Then it was smeared all over his face. “Such a messy eater,” said one of them, “perhaps some water with which to wash it off?” He smiled sweetly. “I’m afraid I’ve finished what your Mother left me,” he said. “No problem,” said the other, “since there’s no shortage of sea. We’ll go and refill the bottle….be back shortly, don’t go away, Shagger.” Ha bloody ha….but exactly as he’d suspected. “Ughhh….ughhh,” he spluttered as the cold salty water was tipped all over his face. “We’ll love you and leave you,” said one of the guilty girls, “but we want everyone to know you’re a skirt sinner, so we’ve prepared you a sort of memorial headstone.” She held a piece of cardboard close to his head. Oops….as he read the writing.

 

He had it coming! 

He spies up skirts! 

 

Carefully, they affixed it into place with a large driftwood stick. Then they put all his bits and pieces into the bag, and sauntered away with it, still sniggering.

 

The sun was sinking, and he was still stuck. The bucket and spade brigade had departed in droves, and several people had given him curious glances. Some had started with slight smiles, but sentiments had shifted when they’d seen the notice. The result had been nobody at all interested in offering any assistance….as intended. 5pm had come and gone, and soon afterwards his train, too. He was beginning to become concerned, since time and tide waiteth for no man, and it had been on the turn for quite a while. Possibly he had a couple of hours’ grace, before he found himself meeting Dr Satan for real?

 

Finally, he heard the clock striking for 7pm….and then help was at hand in the shapely form of Mrs Aubrietia Dooley, together with her naughty nephews. “I’m so sorry about this, Shagger,” she said, “I was wondering where you were, since you hadn’t collected your clothes. When I discovered your beach bag in the bad boys’ bedroom, I demanded answers, on pain of….well, pain. They finally confessed their crimes, and I’ve promised them some substantial slippering….and the Rub-a-dub spoon too, when I can source one. But they can start by shifting some of the sand off you….so get busy, both of you.” They knelt down, with looks which would have torched toast at twendy paces, and roughly removed much of his incarceration.

 

“Enough,” she said, “it’ll be a quicker way out to extract you by your ankles….” she gestured to them, and they took up their positions, “….take a big breath, since if this doesn’t work, you’re in trouble….heave HO.” It would be a quick way out, though not the one he wanted. Another mental image appeared, this time of The Branch Manager, who induced accidents. “Ahhh….Ahhh,” he gasped as they pulled hard. Then his body moved a few feet, however now his head was beneath the sand. “MMMM….MMMM,” he moaned, keeping his mouth firmly closed, and hoping for the best. Desperately, he tried to thresh his arms, and seconds later he moved further forward before finally he was free. “Huhh…huhh,” he moaned, as he took several grateful gasps, before sitting up slowly.

 

Then he stood shakily, and dusted down some of the sand. “You look somewhat of a shambles, Shagger,” she said, “which is hardly surprising. You’re welcome to a shower if you wish.” He shook his head. “Thank you for the kind offer, Ma’am,” he said, “but I’m in trouble as it is, as I’ve a date due at eight o’clock.” She nodded. “I agree with your analysis,” she replied, “since there isn’t another train for some time. So I tell you what, I’ll drive you back to school. It’ll be my personal penance for your problems….take my shoulder, Shagger, and we’ll get going. My car’s parked outside our house….” gratefully he did so, and he padded back up the beach, “….as for you two terrors, you’re grounded until I get back.” There were two separate scowls, with daggers drawn. “But MUM….” one whined, “….we both have dates this evening.” She shrugged. “Too bad,” she said, “so you may be late. However, as I said, you’ve some substantial slippering with which to look forward first. I hope they’ll find it funny when you explain to your pretty partners why you have hot bots….and are wearing Standard Schoolboy Spanking Shorts.” Again, if looks could kill, he’d be dead meat.

  

Then it was across THE STRAND and along SANDS CLOSE to № 7 to where DOL 1E waited. “This is the Dooley Dolly,” she said wittily, unlocking it, “step inside, whilst I get your clothes.” He did so, hoping she wouldn’t mind sand all over her seats? Seconds later she returned, put a carrier bag in the back, and boarded beside him. “I’ll need directions, Shagger,” she said as they headed towards the main road. “It’s quite straightforward, Ma’am,” he replied, “simply follow the B1669 to Stricktlands Village, and then it’s not far along the B1469. I’m most grateful, since it’ll also save a long tiring trek from the railway station.” She gave him a surreptitious sideways glance. “You can put on your clothes en route,” she said, “unless you don’t mind Driving Dubiously Dressed?” He grinned. “A somewhat suspect practice which I really rather enjoy, Ma’am,” he agreed, “basically being bare below the belt, although alternatively in the altogether.”

 

She gave him a second glance. “In which case,” she said sternly, “now we’re out of town, you can slip off those trunks, and do the job properly.” Yes please, as he shimmied them off, and folded them to the floor. “Thank you for their loan, Ma’am,” he said, “it was most appreciated….as indeed were all the other items, and lunch.” She nodded absently. “It was simply for services rendered, Shagger,” she said, “and I rather agree with you about the receipt of regular rattan on raw rears. By the way, were you Spying Up Skirts, as claimed?” He nodded. “Yes, Ma’am,” he admitted, “albeit with plenty of provocation, since your darling daughters stood over me….AHHH….showing off their seats and slits without the option….AHHH….even so….AHHH….I plead guilty to the charge….” she sniggered softly, “….and should be spanked soundly for such sin….AHHH.”

 

She giggled girlishly. “I can arrange it easily enough,” she said, “when we see somewhere suitable to stop….” oo..er….yes, MA’AM, “….can I be nosy, and ask for details of your date? Surely she might mind you being….well, out of action in the distended dick department?” He shrugged. “It’s with a professional prostitute, Ma’am….” she shot him a look of shock, “….albeit a previous one, since she’s now on the Staff. She holds a First Class honours degree from Cambridge, and teaches Latin at St Sticks. I hope the KTB issue will be resolved, but if not I shall simply supply cunnilingus, and do the despicable deed with a dildo of some description.”

 

 

Once again, she seemed impressed. “Had I known of your prowess with pleasing pussy,” she said, “I’d have suggested something similar, Shagger. I hope you’ll take a seaside trip here again. Perhaps when you’re at University, and want to visit your old Alma Mater….” as indeed a number of previous prefects had done during Year LXXXIX. He’d met four of The Magnificent Seven, and also Relay. Doubtless there’d been many more visits from Sometime Scholars, of which he knew nothing, “….you needn’t book a room at The Mound….” so she was taking more money from the mouth of a hard-working hotelier? “….you can stay the night with me….” with a suggestion of sex? “….did you collect any other offers from Slappham Slappers….as we call ourselves, you appallingly bad boy?”

 

 

He nodded. “Two, Ma’am,” he admitted, “one was from….” he looked at his hand, “….Trixy, however the second I can’t yet confirm, since she wrote down her details on my derrière.” She giggled again. “I’ll tell you when I spank it, Shagger,” she said, “so it’s five fuckable floozies in all….” really? “….if we include me, Make Do and Mend, since we’d all be extremely interested in being….well, Shaggered is I suppose the best description….?” he nodded, “….how long is it?” He smiled inwardly. “It’s about another quarter hour to go, Ma’am,” he replied, “and also some seven inches of circumcised sin….” what wit, “….when it’s allowed out to play.” She sniggered softly, but otherwise stayed silent. Once again, the miles and miles passed.

 

STRICKTLANDS VILLAGE 

 

Oops….since he could see a Police car parked outside Stricktlands Stores. He smiled sweetly and waved once at its single occupant. “You don’t seem to be desperately concerned at being accosted by the local law, Shagger?” she suggested as they left the village at some speed. “No, Ma’am,” he replied, “since I know the Officer concerned. He’s Thor Thring, son of Wodin, appropriately enough. The latter was once The Headmaster of St Sticks, and following his retirement, he still lives locally.” She looked in her mirror. “I hope you’re right,” she said, with degree level doubt evident in her voice, “since he’s following us.” The Police car paced them for several minutes, and finally switched on its siren….NEEE NAWW. “There’s a lay-by just ahead, Ma’am,” he said, “if you’d to pull in there?” She did so, with the Police car parked immediately behind them.

 

Then the uniformed figure emerged, and ambled towards them, whilst she wound down her window. “Ello..’ello..’ello,” said The Thing, in HIS stilted style of speech, “wot’s hall diss den…?” it rather reminded him of the mythical PC Plod, which dropped every initial H, but added them back where they weren’t wanted, “….dat woz quite a spirited deparchah from duh village, Ma’am….horlthough not quite hillegal. Diss felon ’as form wiv fast floozies hin fast cars….” indeed, he’d once been stopped similarly, with Primula Proffer doing the driving as a stunningly seductive speed sinner, “….since ’e’s somewot starkers, Hi don’t suppose you were habaht to give ’im some sort hov kerbside spankin’ session? It wouldn’t be the first time Hi’ve witnessed ’is whacks from a wanton wicked Witch.” Oops. “He did suggest one, Officer,” she said, “since he’s been a bit of a bad boy….what with Spying up Skirts. I think he ought to be put properly in his place.”

 

So a typical reinterpretation of events. “Hi suggest you both get haht,” he said, “hand den ’e can go hacross duh ’ood.” They both emerged, and he padded around the car, before bending over the bonnet. “Han Interestin’ motif,” he continued, “since ’is ’iney happears to ’old a name hand phone numbah.” She licked her lips. “Ohh,” he moaned as she fondled his fanny. “Your second Slappham Slapper is Betsy, on 26948,” she confirmed, “I know her family of old, since she lives along from us at № 29 SANDS CLOSE. She was born Elizabeth Evans, so suppose you guess her nickname?” SMACKK SMACKK “….Oww….AHHH,” he gasped as the KTB kicked in again, “….AHHH….I’d suggest Heavens To Betsy, Ma’am….SMACKK SMACKK “….Oww,” he gasped. “Quite correct,” she agreed, “but nobody likes a smart arse.” SMACKK SMACKK “….Oww….I’m so sorry, Ma’am….” SMACKK SMACKK “….Oww….AHHH….I know I’m a Cocky Little Blighter….” SMACKK SMACKK “….AHHH….Oww….which should be shown who’s Superior….ohh,” he added as she fondled his fanny. “Fetch your spanking spoon, Shagger,” she ordered, “and we’ll give this nice Officer a demonstration of discipline.”

 

He took several steps, and opened the rear door. Then he rummaged around inside the bag, until he found his jacket. “This is a Rub-a-dub spoon, Thor,” he said, as he handed it to her, “which I borrowed from Stinks. I’d actually commend it to your father, since he’s said to me several times about how his caning arm isn’t what it once was.” Then he took up his place against the car again….PHWACKKK “….OWW….” PHWACKKK “….OWW….” PHWACKKK   “….OWW….AHHH….” PHWACKKK “….OWW….AHHH….” PHWACKKK “….OWW….” PHWACKKK “….OWW….” PHWACKKK “….OWW….” PHWACKKK “….OWW….AHHH….” he concluded. “Himpressive,” said Thor Thring, “Halthough hit’s getting’ late, so hif you’d like to be honn your way ’ome, Hi’ll sort hout Shagger from ’ere honn hin.”

 

 

She handed David the spoon. “Thank you, Officer,” she said, “I appreciate it, since I still have to slipper my two naughty nephews, before they’re allowed out on the town….” she opened the rear door again, “….here’s your stuff, Shagger.” He accepted the carrier bag. “Thank you, Ma’am,” he said, slipping the spoon inside, “for all your help and assistance this afternoon.” She shrugged as she boarded her car. “Thanks for yours this morning,” she replied, as she started the engine. Then she turned around in the lay-by, and was gone with a cheery wave. “Hop in, Shagger,” said Thor Thring, reverting to ordinary English. “Ahhh,” he gasped as he sat down in the passenger seat, and his raw rear reminded him of the substantial spankings he’d suffered. He put the bag onto his lap, and then they too were away.

 

 

It was only a couple of minutes before they turned off the public highway, and under the wrought-iron arches. “Father was most appreciative of your recent visit to Stern Hall,” he said as they continued along the carriage drive. Do let me know if you need any future further assistance with cheating on cross-country runs.” Maybe this might be managed? “Perhaps next Saturday morning, Thor,” he said, “I’ve assured Have A Thrash I might manage one more before the end of term. In one way, it’ll be a mission of mercy for my former dorm mate William Shanks. He’s going to be rusticated for a week, starting next Friday afternoon, the same me last Autumn. If it’s cross-country for his Games day, I can help him….” he watched, whilst Big Ben slowly swung into view.

 

 

The time was 7.49pm, very reasonable since he’d expected to arrive hours late, if at all, “….although he doesn’t deserve it, given how horrid he’s been to me all year. Still, I do feel some responsibility for grassing him up, even though I didn’t have much choice. Terrence told me it was an open-ended caning, until I confessed his crime….” he grinned, “….Madam Dee’s Reformatory during the holidays was a welcome first step, but she said Iron Will’s small submissive side should be stimulated. Perhaps a quick kidnap, and time of total terror at the hands of the Sadistic Screws….followed by Ten:PM:GMT….?” there was a neat nod, “….could you could hold yourself in readiness for….say ten to ten at The Dell? I’ll confirm by phone on the Friday, when I have his timetable.”

 

 

The buildings quickly became closer. “I’ll look forward to it, Shagger,” he said, “by the way, who was the lovely Lady? We weren’t exactly introduced.” He opened the car door. “Sorry, Thor,” he said, “Her name is Aubrietia Dooley, who lives in Slappham-on-Sea. We met at The Stern Maiden last term, and she suggested I might dish discipline to her darling daughters and naughty nephews. The reason I ended up like this was because they later took their revenge, and buried me on the beach during the afternoon. She graciously agreed to drive me home afterwards, since I’d missed my train….” he shrugged, “….I suppose I could have changed, but I do enjoy Driving Dubiously Dressed.”

 

 

Then they reached the main entrance hall, and the car drew to a halt on the graded gravel. “My date’s at eight o’clock,” he continued, “although I won’t need my clothes, since I’ve a special uniform provided for the purpose.” The Policeman licked his lips. “Which is, Shagger?” he asked. “It’s a Dominican monk’s black habit,” he replied, “simply superb for scourging, since she’s playing submissive….and fancies flagellation fun….” he opened the car door, “….thanks again and goodnight, Thor.” He stepped out. “Goodnight, Shagger,” he said, and then the Policeman was away. Quickly, he padded through the double doors of the main entrance hall, and past the huge hanging portraits of the Mercer family. He selected the correct one of six identical exits, which would take him to the Abbey area. Then he switched mentally into the mindset of a Superior Sir. Soon, he reached his destination.

 

The Cloisters 

verbera experti insuper 

 

“Greetings, Shagger….” said a floozy with a fetching face, standing by the huge heavy timbered door, and similarly starkers, “….Sue Sweet escorted me down here a few minutes ago. It was kind of her to do so, since otherwise I’d never have found it. She said I should strip, on the basis of any clothing being unnecessary, so she’s taken my stuff back to your study for safekeeping. I note the Latin logo, which is Scourging And Moreover….” exactly as Amen Carmen had claimed, “….you seem a sight….perhaps I shouldn’t say anything about hedges….Mmmm,” she added as he kissed her, hard. “Actually, Primula….AHHH,” he said as they’d separated, “it was being dragged through some sand forwards….AHHH….however I hope it’ll add some sort of macho male caveman appeal….AHHH….just right for a rapist.”

 

She shivered. “How so, Shagger?” she asked, “having seen and felt your fancy, it’s quite constrained by a KTB? Against all protestations, I wanted plenty of painful poking punishments. I always enjoyed a bit clit, but until recently I hadn’t realized how much of a pussy pain slut I am. However I doubt you can deliver any distended dick.” Maybe he might, as he turned the huge cast-iron key, duly left in the lock by The SS. “I’ve a horrid habit,” he said darkly, “as you should see, shortly.” He pulled it open, and accompanied her through. Immediately, the series of bulkhead lights automatically illuminated, activated by motion detectors. “This is what little there’s left of the original Abbey of St Eſſstrict,” he continued, as he set down the bag, “but rather than leaving it as a ruin, the Mercer family simply patched it up, and built their Stricktlands Hall over it….” he picked up and put on the Dominican monk’s black habit, “Oo..er,” she said, her eyes wide, “….for role-play, you can be Sister Fallon, and I shall be Prior Pious for the purpose….” what wit, “….there’s some more to see, so follow me down the stone spiral staircase.”

 

She followed him around, until they reached what was now the bondage basement. “Step inside a cell, Sister,” he ordered, “facing the wall.” As adorned with rather rough and rusty cast-iron hardware. She offered out her arms and legs. “Oh,” she gasped as he shackled her wrists and ironed her ankles. Then he selected a studded scourge, as he’d recently used on the Parish Priest. “Oo..er,” she murmured as he held high the eleven lengths of lovely long leather, each one knotted nastily at irregular intervals.

 

“It seems Sister Fallon has fallen,” he said wittily, “so your filthy fancy will find fustigation….” Flogging, and she shivered in anticipation, “….after some formal flagellation, for the failings of the flesh. You will take it to the torso, before Prior Pious tackles your twat. We’ll use the Rapid Responses….” which were rather rare, “….thus there’s no need to count, nor offer any affirmation, contrition or salutation.” Thwackk “….Ahhh….” Thwackk “….Ahhh….” Thwackk “….Ahhh….” Thwackk “….Ahhh,” she gasped as he scourged her soundly, “….now, those lovely legs,” Thwackk “….Ahhh….” Thwackk “….Ahhh….” Thwackk “….Ahhh….” Thwackk “….Ahhh,” she gasped each time. “Excellent….AHHH,” he gasped as the KTB hit him, “finally, your fancy.” She struggled strongly against the shackles, “NO,” she shouted, “mercy, Prior Pious.” As always, an excellent example of subaudition, as in Grahame’s Guide to Grandiloquisms. It was where a word or phrase meant something other than it purported, in this case Yes.

 

“No mercy it is, Sister….AHHH,” he agreed, with the usual wilful misunderstanding, “….so we’ll begin.” She made an abortive attempt to protect her pussy by closing her legs, an action which achieved nothing….Thwapp “….UGHHH….” Thwapp “….UGHHH….”  Thwapp “….UGHHH….”  Thwapp “….UGHHH….SIR,” she moaned, “hit it HARDER, Sir….uhhh….my slit’s so sinful….uhhh….I know it needs it.” So Stop It I Like It? THWAPP “….URGHHH….” THWAPP “….URGHHH….” THWAPP “….URGHHH….I’m cumming….UHHH….YESS.” The same as Amen Carmen had said, in similar circumstances. Hopefully, her strap-on dildo would still be present in the pocket? He rummaged around in the folds of cloth, finally found it, and appended it accordingly. “This is a suitably spiked shaft, Sister,” he whispered into her ear, “which will provide plenty of pussy punishment pain.” But also pleasure, he strongly suspected. “UGHHHH….ARGHHH….” she shouted in sexual stress as she was screwed, “….UGHHHH….ARGHHH….I’m cumming again….YESS….YESS….YESS.” Slowly, her breathing settled. “More?” she asked, hopefully.

 

He’d fucked her flogged fancy a further four times, and she was soaked with sweat. Even though, as he released her ankle irons, lovely Ladies shine. “We will away,” he said as he pocketed the strap-on. Then he released her wrists, and she fell forward over him. She’d once told him how she enjoyed the thought of being slung over a stud’s shoulder prior to rape, so this was a further fantasy he could follow. Slowly, he padded out of the cell and into the basement. The bulkhead lights illuminated immediately, and he continued to the spiral staircase. Up and around he went with difficulty, until he reached The Cloisters again. He picked up his bag of clothes with his free hand, and then it was back through the heavy timbered door. He closed and locked it, putting the key in a pocket, before heading back into the opulence of Stricktlands Hall.

 

 

Several minutes later, he was back into the familiar frugality of the main school buildings, with the first of the long, dark cold corridors. They reached the entrance hall for the Prefects’ Study wing, and he started up the first flight of empty stone steps. They weren’t echoing from his padded passing, but from distant discipline. “Huhh….huhh,” he huffed as they reached the penultimate flight. He’d done well with his load, although doubtless Ava Frasch would claim he was already becoming out of condition again. Still, he might be doing his final cross-country run in a week’s time, which would hopefully keep her happy? Maybe not, personal demon replied as he continued to climb, since surely he’d be cheating his wicked way out of most of it? Then the reached the Level 6 landing, and continued down into the gloomy corridor. The Cunt At Infinity, the mathematical construct of his own making. It represented a destination desperately desirable in the distance, but utterly unattainable. Fortunately, study 24 didn’t quite fall into the same category….and hopefully neither would the cutie he was currently carrying?

 

David Shagton 

Quis illum sceleratum fuisse putavisset 

 

Who Would Have Thought He Was A Rascal as he pushed open the door, padded inside and set down the bag of clothes. He switched on the main light, and took several steps towards his table. Excellent….since it bore a small padlock key. “Your luck is in,” he said as he laid her down on it, “or out, since it seems Sister Brenda has been here already, and decided to be gracious….or not.” He padded across to his back wall, and selected four sets of handcuffs. Then he returned and proceeded to immobilize her again. Each was attached to a table leg, with her legs spread wide, plus a properly presented pussy. “Ohh….ohh,” he moaned with real relief as he removed the Bracelet.

 

They both watched whilst his willy wavered. “It is indeed seven inches of circumcised sin, Prior Pious,” she whispered, “and there is nothing at all I can do to stop it from having its wicked way. Screw my sinful slit, as I know it to be.” He’d be happy to help. “Since you should suffer,” he mused, “I shall put on a rubber Spiked Shaft Sheath….” another interesting item, “….unlike the KTB, it will not worry my willy, but the process of poking will provide plenty of pussy pain.”  He opened one wardrobe, and rummaged around inside Her Box Of Tricks until he found the offending item. “Ohh,” he whispered as he slipped it onto his pulsing penis. Then he moved forward, to finally fuck her fallen fancy. “UHHH….AHHH,” she gasped as the spikes scraped her slit.

 

She was wringing wet from previous poking, and for the second time today, there was very little friction from the fuck. “UHHH,” he moaned, already fully inside, and his balls bounced against her beautiful butt. “UHHH….AHHH…..punish my pussy, Prior Pious,” she urged, “it should suffer some semen….UHHH….AHHH….for all its sins.” He wouldn’t worry himself with the apparent contradictions in her theology. However he could help the harlot….and seemingly in only a few short seconds, from the state of his straining shaft. “UHHH….UHHH,” he moaned as he humped her hard. Here’s to you, Carmen, his brain added, as he fulfilled his previous promise to the Parish Priest. “UHHH….AHHH,” she gasped, “I shall certainly spurt soon, Sister Fallon,” he assured her, “UHHH….yes….YESS….YESS….” he held her hips hard, and spurted several times, “….YESS….YESS,” she shouted, clearly cumming again.

 

Patiently, he waited until the study had stopped spinning. “Ahhh….” she gasped as he withdrew his soft shaft, “….ohh….ohh,” she added as he released the handcuffs, and she sat up slowly, rubbing her wrists. “Should we shower….Shagger?” she suggested, “since I’m seriously shining….” quod erat demonstrandum, or Thus It Has Been Proved, “….and you’re still somewhat sandy?” He nodded, took her hand, and together they padded across the study. Inside the shower room, he took off his habit, and folded it neatly to the floor. Mitches could clean the strap-on in the morning, since this sort of service was what fags were….well, not paid for doing. Then they stepped into the cubicle, and he turned on the tap. “Ohh,” he moaned as the wonderfully warm water cascaded down. “Since you’re still wearing Naccatape, Shagger,” she said, “will you be my balls bulb boy….since I didn’t achieve it earlier?”

 

He spread his legs. “UGHHH….UGHHH,” he gasped, “BEEP BEEP.” His hands held her hiney, and stroked her seat. “Thank you so much for this session, Shagger,” she said as she soaped them both, “since as I once explained to you, professional prostitutes don’t usually allow clients to do Dominant. It’s because it might easily become real rape….” or worse, as she’d said, without paying for pussy, “….therefore, my own personal peccadilloes and filthy fantasies remained fairly unfulfilled….until I started teaching at St Sticks. I’m pleased to say I’ve more than made up for it over the past few weeks. However, I’m sorry to say No Good Turn Goes Unpunished….” as per the unwritten rule, “….and you should still suffer your Sex Thrashing….” thus payment in pain, rather than new pounds, “….I remind you my cunt currency is a nasty nine. However, there’s no charge for all the previous pokes with the strap-on.” Just as well, as they allowed the water to rinse them off.

 

Finally they finished, and he turned off the tap. They stepped out of the shower, and dried themselves down. She put on a black shower robe, and he took her hand as they returned to the main study. “Feel free to select something suitable for swishing….Ma’am,” he said, as he turned off the main light, and switched on the bedside one before lying down. OMG….it was going to be the Malacca model, for the second time today. “I shall make it snappy, Shagger,” she said, “without any of the studied sadism which is so much your speciality….” a hard charge, since most swishers at St Sticks were the same, “….and staccato style, in threes.” He was grateful for small mercies, as a quick caning was much easier to bear than a slow one….especially après-sexe, without any sexual imperative to ease the pain.

 

SWISHHTHWACKKKKK    SWISHHTHWACKKKKK    SWISHHTHWACKKKKK

“YEEE..HEEE..EEEE….THREE, so sorry, MA’AM,” he yelped.

 

SWISHHTHWACKKKKK    SWISHHTHWACKKKKK    SWISHHTHWACKKKKK

“YEOOW..OWWW..WOWW….SIX….so sorry, MA’AM,” he gasped.

 

SWISHHTHWACKKKKK    SWISHHTHWACKKKKK    SWISHHTHWACKKKKK

“YIKES..YIKES..YIKES….NINE, so sorry, MA’AM,” he gasped, “thank you for my Caning For Cunt, and the privilege of poking your pussy….ohh,” he added as she fondled his fanny and stroked the three stripes. “It’s bedtime, bad boy….” she said, setting down the stick, “….I’ll stay here until three o’clock tomorrow morning, since I expect you’ve another date due….” indeed so, although with whom was another matter? “….so slumber soundly, and thanks again.” Together, they snuggled beneath the bedclothes.

 

Goodnight, Primula,” he whispered, “I’m really glad everything’s turned out so well for you here at St Sticks….ohh,” he added as he finally removed the naccatape from his knackers. He put it onto the bedside cabinet, and switched out the light. Suddenly the study was in darkness, as she snuggled up to him. “Me too, Shagger,” she agreed as she hugged him, “a well-paid dream job with plenty of pokeable penis, and punishable posteriors. What more could a wanton wicked Witch want?” Surely a rhetorical question, as slowly he slipped towards sleep.

 

To be continued……

 

OTK boy and girl

 

Carrot Head part 1

 

Teasing Tart

 

231 – part (3) of (4)

Seaside 

 

“I think some other sort of thanks is in order, Shagger,” said Sue Sweet, sweetly, “so since you’re obviously wearing Naccatape, you can be my balls bulb boy.” He walked around the desk, and lowered his trousers and underpants. Inevitably, an errant erection emerged. “UGHHH….UGHHH….BEEP BEEP,” he gasped as his scrotum was squeezed again….SMACKK “….Oww....” he added as she smacked him smartly, “….more….Ma’am,” he implored as he turned around, and bent forwards. “So someone’s been a bad boy,” she said, “presumably a Caning For Cunt?” What else? “Yes, Sue,” he confirmed, “it was a straight eight, as you can see….for Uncle Sam….” he paused, “….who’s asked to be added to our ménage, and we’ve all agreed.” The intercom crackled. “Congratulations, Shagger….” said The Headmaster’s voice, clearly listening in as usual, “….and does the Rub-a-dub spoon originate from Harold?” Well sussed. “Yes, Sir,” he replied, “My Missus and I enjoyed a traditional threesome in Mr Sphinx’ study yesterday evening.” She smiled. “Do you have it with you, Shagger?” she asked, and he handed it over…. PHWACKK “….OWWW….” PHWACKK “….OWWW,” he gasped.

 

“Perhaps some more from me, Shagger?” asked The Interrogator, having emerged unnoticed from his study and standing by the desk. “Most certainly, Sir,” he replied, and turned around again….PHWACKK “….OWWW….” PHWACKK “….OWWW….” PHWACKK “….OWWW,” he gasped, “I’m always happy to have your hits on my hiney, Sir….ohh,” he added as his seat was stroked. “Not normally properly professional, Shagger,” he said, “however you ARE a prefect, and your neat little bottom is legendary….” another dollar, “….I am so glad we understand each other. Would you be my balls bulb boy again into the bargain….?” he spread his legs, “….UGHHH….UGHHH….BEEP BEEP,” he gasped, “….it is my hope you will attend another Apocryphal Schoolboy Saturday before the end of term….not today, obviously. But on another topic, you may recall we discussed William Shanks yesterday evening….?”

 

he did indeed, “….whose final A-Level examination will be next Friday morning. I therefore propose to rusticate him immediately afterwards….” Oops, “….so could you kindly attend my study at half past twelve….?” it was framed as a request, but clearly an order….albeit one he’d be happy to obey, “….you can assist me in the accusations, and confirm his complicity in the untoward avoidance of several Sex Thrashings….” he smiled, “….I expect you will enjoy watching his whacks….” most definitely, having been in the same situation himself two terms previously, “….since we shall start with some sound starkers swishing….as is the object of the exercise. Then he can be duly demoted to dorm 6X….and senior fag to The Green Goddess, as you suggested. I will leave all her explanations to you on Monday evening….” clearly, he was already aware of their weekly hard-wired sessions, “….I expect over the following seven days, I will be able to administer all manner of acute agonies onto his arse, as will many other members of Staff….and prefects….” he winked once, “….which I accept and agree is all utterly unfair. However as you yourself found out the hard way, it keeps you humble. On the plus side he may Solicit all sorts of sluts with which to grace his gonads after he has regained his rank.”

 

True. “As I also alluded, Sir,” he said, “Iron Will’s always wanted to waver his willy wildly in the changing rooms….presumably in the high hopes of impressing….” pussy, “….err….innocent young Ladies with his prowess. It never worked, and he simply seemed silly. But The Exp♂sers and the six exhibiti♂nists might manage to teach him about personality, poise and panache when parading a penis in public. I’ll drop a note to each dorm in advance if you wish….and also advise the latter they’ll have a temporary bed Z for a week.” The Headmaster grinned. “Thank you, Shagger,” he said, “as for today, I too wish you and the Smith Sisters well, and hope you all enjoy some sun sea sand and sex.” So there it was again? “Ohh,” he gasped as he raised his underpants.

 

“On the subject of those Saturdays, Sir,” he said, lifting his trousers, “you’ll be intrigued to hear how Richard Sharp may be attending one as well. It’s a sort of insurance policy, since I’ve told him all about Wanker Boy Will….and he doesn’t want to be next in line.” Iain Terrence Hayter smiled. “The psychology certainly seems sound, Shagger,” he said, “do feel free to extol it elsewhere, since it may encourage more Dominant dolts to take advantage of the facility.” It was spoken as another sixdy-sixdy switch, as he knew him to be, “I’ll put it onto the Bush Telegraph, too,” put in Sue Sweet, “since it may secure some similar Schoolgirls….drawn from the Dominant damsels’ dorms.”

 

 

His penis pulsed at the prospect. “I’d really enjoy watching the wanton wicked wenches’ whacks, Sir,” he admitted. “Consider it your reward, Shagger,” he said, generously, “for services rendered in the promotion of these punishments. I am sure we can work your presence somewhere into the role-play, when you yourself have been thrashed thoroughly….” oo..er….yes, SIR, “….incidentally, on the following Saturday afternoon, it will be the first of the new Inter-school Naccarim Challenge matches.” He nodded. “I’m glad Stun’em’s Templar Treatise bore fruit, Sir,” he said, “since it seemed a somewhat high-risk strategy, and he could have ended up out on his ear.” The Interrogator smiled widely. “How did you hear of it, Shagger?” he asked, “surely it could not have been from James Stainham, since you were away at St Templars at the time?” He shrugged. “He wrote it here one evening, Sir,” he replied, “when Miffy Smiffy was Preparation Monitor. She subsequently mentioned it to my Missus and me, but I don’t believe it’s common knowledge.”

 

 

The Headmaster appeared impressed. “I understand it was a little touch-and-go at the meeting of their Governors,” he said, “with one faction opposed to any thawing of relations. However, what seemed to swing it….so to speak….” very good, “….was the specification of the Tanningtown tawse by Ms Frasch. In the circumstances of the original dispute, they could hardly be opposed to an event which did not use the cane….” he winked once, “….I expect you will be wishing to meet up with several firm friends from your Exchange?” He grinned. “I’d certainly enjoy taking The Twins’ twats again, Sir,” he agreed, “hence Hacker The Knacker and Fletcher the Stretcher….but both being named Gemini. Needless to say, they both hailed from The Six Knackerers. But it does raise an interesting question, since would the prohibition on poking for the pupils In The Pink apply to similar such visiting vivacious vixens? After all, my cousin Harry Herbert Orwell once screwed The Token Straight Slut in Sue’s Flat, on the basis she attended St Judes.”

 

 

The Interrogator pursed his lips. “It is a situation which has not arisen before….” he mused, with his stilted style of speech which avoided all apostrophes again apparent. But then he was a Patron of PEDANT….the Perfect English Development Association National Trust, “….but I think we may safely say it is so….” he winked a second time, “….I daresay your protégé may wish to show….who was it now? Yes, Fonder and Absolutely around the school at some stage, since Sue says he makes an excellent guide.” As Racy Tracy and several other subsequent sluts wouldn’t dispute. “Yes, Sir,” he agreed, “Jane Fonda and Lee Abigail Lute, if I recall rightly. I can confirm they’re simply stacked, with dark dusky contralto voices….” and blonde bushes, he believed, “….I’m sure Harry would welcome taking a tumble with them after their tour….” he glanced up at the clock, which read 8.51am, “….please excuse me, since the Smiths will be waiting, Sir.”

 

 

Sue Sweet handed over a piece of paper. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t, Shagger,” she muttered. “Which will give you substantial scope for sin, Shagger….” said Iain Terrence Hayter amiably, knowing her predilections for penis, “….so until next Friday….and good luck with your remaining A-Level examinations.” He’d need it. “Thank you, Sir,” he replied, as he stepped out of the office. Inevitably, there was a long line of sinful scholars standing sadly outside. They’d be today’s explainees….although Saturday was an easier option. It was Games for the 5^th and lower 6^th form, which started at 9.30am. Any on-time arrivals would avoid another Detention. As he retraced his steps, he read the paper.

 

Official exeat – To whom it may concern 

Please be advised Shagton and The Smith Sisters              are  is hereby authorized to be out of bounds or absent from classes as follows:  to Slappham for the day….sun sea sand and anything as appropriate 

Signed for and on behalf of The Headmaster:- Susan Sweet 

 

It seemed she’d been suitably circumspect, although he doubted anyone would be worried? He reached the Level 1 landing again, and headed down the empty echoing stone steps. It was distant discipline wasting on the wind, and not necessarily emanating from The Headmaster’s study. At the base, he started quickly into the first of the long dark cold corridors. Several minutes later, he reached the main entrance hall, and pushed open one of the double doors. “Good morning, Bultitude,” he said to the chauffeur, who was holding open one door of MS 1. “Good morning, Sir,” he replied.

 

David climbed inside to see both Smiths already seated, and also wearing their basic black prefect’s uniforms. “Ohh,” he gasped as he sat down, and his hurting hiney caught up with him again. The butler boarded, and then the Rolls Royce was away at some speed along the main carriage drive. “Get it out, Davy….” said Brenda Smith. Surely she wasn’t suggesting sex….not so soon? “….no, I’m not….” so HER apparent mind reading skills were working well, “….you may recall how Sis and I were completely cuckolded earlier by Silly….” he could hardly forget, “….so now it’ll be your turn….” oh dear, “….NO,” he gasped as he saw his fate worse than death, “….a KTB will keep you out of mischief, Davy. I also said I’d seek suitable restitution for the loan of my study last night to your senior fag….” he watched with sick fascination as it was applied, “….it’s the severe version….” thanks a bunch, “….don’t mention it, but since you’ve spunked so recently, your soft shaft shouldn’t suffer too much.” Simple for her to say, as the car slowed.

 

They passed beneath the imposing wrought-iron arches of the main entrance gates, and turned onto the public highway. “Ahhh,” he gasped as she snapped it shut over his placid penis. Then she locked it, and hung the key around her neck on a chain. “Put it away again, Davy,” she said, “best hope I don’t lose this anywhere today, Davy. If I do, it’ll be a VERY embarrassing trip to a locksmiths in Surbiton.” Indeed so, as he adjusted his dress….even though he wasn’t wearing one. “It occurs to me I don’t actually know the way to Slappham,” he said as they continued along the B1469. “We take this road to Stricktlands Village, Sir,” said Bultitude, “and then the B1669 all the way to the coast. We should be there in about three quarters of an hour.”

 

Fair enough. “Since I can’t source some suitable sluts,” he said sourly, “it’s as well I’ve arranged alternative entertainment. It’s by kind courtesy of Mrs Aubrietia Dooley, who I originally met at The Stern Maiden. She’s asked me to deliver decisive derrière discipline to her deviant daughters and sinful sons. She’s expecting me, since I confirmed the arrangements by phone a few minutes ago from Sue Sweet’s office. After I’ve enjoyed an early luncheon, I daresay I shall sunbathe on the sand all afternoon….although I don’t have anything suitable to wear.” The Smith Sisters shrugged. “Bultitude brought bikinis from home for us both, Shagger,” muttered Miffy Smiffy, “if you’d thought about things in advance, I’m sure Mum would have been happy to buy one. I suppose you can source something suitable in Slappham….but NO points for forward thinking.”

 

The miles continued to speed by….prairie country, it would be called in North America. For a scenic ride it was a non-starter, since the county was completely flat. Idly, and with only half a brain, he listened to feminine frippery. Finally, he spotted a large road sign.

 

SLAPPHAM-ON-SEA 

WELCOMES CAREFUL DRIVERS 

FOR SLAPPHAM SANDS 

 

“According to Mrs Dooley,” he said, recalling the notelet again, “it’s a turning off THE STRAND called SANDS CLOSE….which presumably it is, especially in rough weather….” what wit, “….and № 7, past the mound….whatever it might be?” His brain promptly conjured up a mental image of a massive dune, impossibly positioned between two houses. The car reached the sea front, which was indeed so named. They continued until they reached the right road and turned into it. Ohh….since he’d seen a large sign, and how he’d gone wrong.

 

The Mound Guesthouse 

Mrs Lucrecia Gulag 

Slappham 33695 

Room rentals from an hour 

 

“Stop, Bultitude,” ordered Brenda Smith, “since Miff and I can make good use of a No Tell hotel. Make yourself useful, Davy, and rent us a room until five o’clock.” He stared at her, as the car drew to an abrupt halt. “Why me, Bren?” he asked sulkily….SLAPP “….Oww,” he added. “First,” she replied, “since I say so….” yes, MA’AM, “….second, since it seems you’ve no shortage of readies from your Patron….” so SOME points for forward thinking, since he’d brought plenty of cash, “….and third since it’s the gallant thing to do. It’s much better for the owner to think you’re up to no good….” even though he wasn’t, “….rather than besmirch our unsullied reputations as sluts out to screw some studs….” which they were, “….so in you go, Davy.”

 

He stepped out, and it seemed to be everything expected of such seedy seaside establishments. Paint was peeling everywhere and the atmosphere was unwelcoming. Quite possibly it was also known locally as The Mould? But what would Mrs Gulag be like? Even her name conjured up connotations of Russian prisons. DING DONG….went the doorbell, and he waited for the worst. Eventually it opened, and a young man stood there. For some strange reason, his face seemed familiar? “Good morning, Sir….” he said, automatically adding the salutation, “….I’m looking for Mrs Gulag.” There was a slight smile. “I am essentially she….Shagger,” he said, even as his brain whirled, “it’s Peter Paten….previous prefect….” how….what….why? “….I’m afraid I failed my A-Levels last year somewhere spectacularly….” oh, dear, “….possibly due to too much partying, and insufficient studying….”

 

Petey Patey’s parties were proverbial, “….fortunately plan B became available, after my maternal grandmother died….” he pointed to the masthead, and belatedly he recognized the Old English font giveaway, “….my parents weren’t interested in moving here from Dundee….” he ought also to have realized his name was Scottish, “….so I inherited the building….and the business, such as it is. Alas, there’s very little money to be made, since the holiday season is so short. However, bathers’ bonking balances the books….which is presumably what you’re after? Some sea, sun sand and sex?” He sniffed, in mild exasperation. “Yes and no, Peter,” he replied, “since Brenda and Myfanwy Smith have decided I should stay celibate….so I’m locked inside a KTB….” he patted his placid penis, “….however, they’d like to be laid a lot by the local lads.” The older boy nodded. “Let’s do a deal, Shagger,” he urged, “with a quid pro quo. If they include me in the action, we’ll knock the price down….” a Reciprocal Exchange for some knocking, “….since I still have to eat during December. Anyway, I’ve always enjoyed screwing the so-called Smith cousins….” he smiled, “….they even attended some of my parties last year.”

 

So more of their murky past was being exhumed? “Actually, Peter,” he replied, “it turns out they’re half Sisters, since they share the same philandering father. But how much would you want for a room rental until five o’clock?” The other pursed his lips. “I’m obviously a bit out of touch,” he agreed, “but the tool and twat tariff is normally thirdy new pounds for the first hour, and sixdeen subsequently….” he shrugged, “….it’s only fordy new pounds a night for conventional B&B, which is all the resort can command….” his point about penury was plain, “….say seven hours, which would normally be a gross new pounds. How does six dozen sound, and call it quits, coupled with cute cunt….?” he offered his hand, and they shook, “….thanks, Shagger….it’s been a business doing pleasure with you.” Very fucking funny….and literally so. He took out his wallet, and handed over a dozen NP6 notes. “I’ll ask them to step inside for your other wages of sin, Peter,” he said, “do enjoy them.”

 

He headed back to the car. “It’s all done and dusted….” he said, putting his head through the window, and feeling rather akin to a kerb crawler, “….although part of the deal on the room rate is your virtue….or lack of it. As you probably saw, Mrs Gulag is actually an alumnus….” or Sometime Scholar, “….if you’d step inside for suitable screwing, you can subsequently source some studs on the sands.” They nodded neatly, so clearly they’d no objection about being sold into slavery. “Thank you, Bultitude,” said Miffy Smiffy, “you can be away….” she paused, “….I forgot to tell you something, Shagger. We’ll have to take the train home this afternoon, since Mother needs the car. Be at the railway station in time for the 5:20pm, and remember, you’ll need a ticket.”

 

He opened the car door for them politely, and waited whilst they emerged, holding handbags. Presumably they held the advertised bikinis? “It’ll be a pleasure poking Petey Patey again….” muttered his Missus, “….I always enjoyed his parties,” added her Sister, “and so did Ursula….since they usually ended up as orgies, which are straight up her street.” As indeed she’d said. “Until later, lovely Ladies,” he said….SMACKK “….Oww….” SMACKK “….Oww,” they each gasped in turn as he smacked their seats. He watched whilst they waved at the previous prefect, and the Rolls Royce executed a neat three point turn before gliding back towards the main road.

 

It would appear the guesthouse had been № 3, since № 5 was next, thus his destination should be immediately afterwards. Sure enough it was so, and he headed to the door….DING DONG. Seconds later, it opened, and a hand pulled him inside. “Hello, Shagger,” said his Hostess, “it’s good of you to call….Mmmm,” she added as she kissed him hard. Finally, they separated, and she tugged him by his tie towards one of the downstairs rooms. He followed her inside what looked like the lounge, where two pairs of unhappy twins were waiting for the whacks.

 

The bad boys were bare with pulsing penises, whereas the guilty girls wore Country’n’Western wear remarkably reminiscent of The Terror Twins. It was with loose-fitting blouses which looked like brassières were an unknown concept on the coast. Then there were rough faded blue denim miniskirts with raw hems and monki buttons down the front. Idly, he wondered which way they undid? The pretty picture was completed with cowgirl crotch crush boots. All four hands were held behind heads in school style.

 

“Good morning,” he said jovially, “as you’re aware, I’ve been asked to dish you all decisive derrière discipline. I expect you haven’t been whacked for a while, and really the requirement should be regular receipt of the rattan….” he turned towards his Hostess, “….in one way, I’m surprised there aren’t any Caning Ladies available locally who’d be happy to help hit hineys, Ma’am. In my town, there’s no shortage of such suitable swishers….” of which his Mother was one, “….but were you aware you’ve someone from The Styx….I mean St Stricktlands School, living only two doors away….?” she shook her head, “….I’m sure Peter Paten from № 3 would provide plenty of posterior punishments.” 

 

Four pairs of eyes stared at him in obvious annoyance. “I knew his grandmother quite well,” murmured Mrs Dooley, “but I haven’t had much to do with him since he took over The Mould….err….Mound….” so something he had right? “….I wasn’t aware he’d wield the weapon. Is his a chargeable service?” He shook his head. “It’s more a labour of love, Ma’am,” he replied, “although some sort of recompense would be welcome, especially if you’d like to take tanning tuition….” he shrugged, since it might be more sex in exchange for Caning Training, and he still needed to eat, “….but my own strict services are entirely without cost….shall we say, at point of punishment? We’ll make a suitable start with your naughty nephews. The humiliation is hugely higher when their whacks are watched by wanton wicked wenches. Then, whilst we deal with the deviant damsels, it’s their corner time….owing to Maidenly Modesty….” they both stared stonily at him, “….are they here for the weekend?”

 

She shook her head. “They live with us, Shagger,” she replied, “after our darling daughters arrived, my husband had an affair with my twin Sister, who lives in London. The inevitable result was my naughty nephews. After a year, she decided she couldn’t cope with them in her Islington flat, however Pedro preferred the city life….” she licked her lips, “….try your comic thing skills, and guess his school nickname?” Carefully, he considered the question. “It’s called comiconomenclaturism, Ma’am,” he replied, “and I’d suggest Duly Paid.” She seemed impressed. “Spot on, Shagger,” she said, “anyway, he left me fending for all four felons….” she shrugged, “….they do pay me properly for their maintenance. Even so, none of them have had a father figure.” He nodded with some sympathy, having heard a similar tale of woe from the Tanningtown Templar teacher, Marius Goring. However in this instance it was Wifey which had walked, leaving Goering holding the baby….or rather six year old son.

 

“Do you know which twin is which?” he asked. “Not really,” she admitted, “I always have to ask.” He pursed his lips, as she handed him her cane. “You could try tattoos,” he said, “The Tribble Triplets at St Sticks have a single small initial of identification at the base of the back.” She seemed taken with it. “An excellent idea,” she said, “with a W and M….for Wilfred and Michael. Although Michaela and Mindy might be another matter?” Surely though it wasn’t insurmountable? “Bend over, bad boys,” he said, “I shall punish you in loco parentis….” In Place Of A Parent, “….for failing an erection inspection so spectacularly. State your name, following your flogging. It will be three strokes each, in the staccato style. I remind you of the Rhyming Responses, which are YEEE on three….or OO on two.”

    

Swishhhhthwackkkk    Swishhhhthwackkkk    Swishhhhthwackkkk

“Yeeee..EEEE..HEEE,” he yelped, wiggling his waist, “THREE, thank you, SIR….Wilfred, Sir.” So this was Will Do. “You should stay still,” he said, “since at St Sticks, it would be another whack for Incitement.”

 

Swishhhhthwackkkk    Swishhhhthwackkkk    Swishhhhthwackkkk

Yeeee..HEEE..EEEE,” he yelped, likewise wiggling, “THREE, thank you, SIR….Michael, Sir.” By elimination, this was Might Do. “Take a corner each,” he ordered, as they arose and padded away. “Now it’s the guilty girls,” he said, “two strokes each for naughty nipples….unless they’d care to deny it….?” they shook their heads, “….bare your bottoms and bend over to be beaten. This will hurt me more than it hurts you.” Aubrietia Dooley giggled girlishly. “Honestly, Shagger,” she said, “such an old cliché.” He shrugged, as they started with the buttons at the base.

 

“Really it will, Ma’am,” he insisted, “since I’m wearing a Kali’s Teeth Bracelet….AHHH,” he gasped as his penis attempted an erection. There were no naughty knickers, and he’d caught two glimpses of cute cunt. Even so, from their expressions of puzzlement, they weren’t yet familiar with the diabolical device, “….by kind courtesy of my ménage-à-trois, who wanted to ensure my good behaviour.” She smiled slightly. “So what are they doing in Slappham,” she asked, “whilst you’re whacking wanton wicked wenches?” Easily answered. “They’ll shortly be out somewhere on the Sands, Ma’am,” he replied, “sourcing a suitable selection of studs for screwing….AHHH,” he added, as they presented their particularly pert posteriors for punishment pain.

 

Swishhhhthwackkkk    Swishhhhthwackkkk

“Oooh..HOOH….TWO, thank you SIR,” gasped the first, “I’m Michaela, Sir.” So she was Make Do. “AHHH,” he gasped in penile pain, since it still sounded so much like sex.

 

Swishhhhthwackkkk    Swishhhhthwackkkk

“Oooh..HOOH….TWO, thank you SIR,” gasped the second, “I’m Mindy, Sir.” Or otherwise Mend. “AHHH,” he gasped all over again. “They can watch me apply my Rub-a-dub spoon to the bad boys,” he said, “in a way which will ensure they stay still. It ought to be better than a spanking slipper, and as I said, it’s easy to apply. Step back here lads, and we’ll give it a go….” he waited whilst they returned, with shafts still straining, “….Wilfred first….in the Wheelbarrow Position over my lap, please.” Slowly, he backed up, presenting a punished posterior. “Ohh,” he gasped as his gonads were grabbed. “Having him in hand guarantees good behaviour,” he said, “and he can take the testicle twist too, if necessary.” He took out the spoon…. PHWACKK “….OWW,” PHWACKK “….OWW,” he gasped. “You get the idea,” he said, “now Michael.” He waited whilst they changed places….PHWACKK “….OWW,” PHWACKK “….OWW,” he gasped, identically.

 

“Discipline duly dished….David,” she said, “they can stay here for more corner time until noon to contemplate their crimes, and then I’ll give them lunch. I’ve prepared you a packed one, so you can take it out onto the beach and do some sunbathing. It’s in the kitchen, so follow me.” She ambled out of the room. “We’ll get you for this, Shagger….” muttered a villain’s voice, “….get you good….somehow,” said a second as he followed his Hostess. It seemed they hadn’t exactly taken their tannings with good grace? “There is one slight problem, Ma’am….” he said, when they reached the right room, “….which is how I haven’t anything to wear.” She waved her hand. “Strip starkers, Shagger,” she said, “whilst I find something suitable.” Slowly, he shed his clothes, stacking everything into a neat pile on the table. Impeccable tidiness had been completely caned into him, first at home by his Mother and secondly at St Sticks.

 

“Oo..er,” she said, as she returned, “I see what you mean about the KTB….so bang goes my bang, as I’d been hoping….” which couldn’t be helped, “….what’s with the white tape tied around your testicles?” He smiled. “I’m so sorry about the screw, Ma’am,” he replied, “but it’s called Naccatape….” she licked her lips “….as a kind of consolation, could you at least be my balls bulb boy?” He spread his legs. “UGHHH….UGHHH,” he gasped, “BEEP BEEP.” Then she handed him a pair of seriously small swimming trunks. “Ohh,” he gasped as he pulled them up, and sure enough saw an exhibitionist’s parts pushed to prominence without actual exposure. “Nice knackerable nuts,” she said with obvious approval, “however, I’ve had my fun….so here’s your lunch. You can leave your clothes here, and collect them later. I’ve put some sun cream, sunglasses and a towel inside too, since it’s a fairly fine day….” some other things he hadn’t considered, “….so let yourself out, and take it easy for the afternoon….” SMACKK “….Oww,” he gasped, “most certainly, Ma’am.”

 

He’d no objection to being tapped on the tush by a lovely Lady, although she’d probably be the first to fret if a fella did it to her. He picked the offered beach bag, and padded out of the kitchen. “Bastard,” he heard quite clearly as he passed by the lounge. “Did someone say something?” he heard Mrs Dooley asking. “No, Mum….” was the reply, “….nothing at all, Mum.” Had it been him, he’d have followed up the further felony, with wise words along the lines of: ‘Nothing usually means something, so confess your crimes or it will be more whacks.’ Still, they weren’t HIS sinful sons.

 

He padded out of the house, and reached the road. Then it was along SANDS CLOSE to THE STRAND. He crossed over it, and the bathing beach was immediately adjacent. Where to sit….and what was the tide doing? It appeared to be on its way out, so he selected a secluded spot from what little was left. He laid out the towel, sat down, and applied a generous helping of sun cream all over his exposed body. He’d lunch later, but for now it was time to try doing nothing actively….another oxymoron, as his dream at the University of Lancashire broke temporarily, before vanishing in the haze and heat of the summer sun.