Rustication
The prefect William Shanks sat at the very back of the main assembly hall at St Stricktlands School, and glanced up at the wall clock. It was 11.59am, and there was thus exactly one minute left of his very last A-Level examination. He always selected one of these seats, since he always wanted to get away quickly after it was all over. Quam Celerrime ….or As Quickly As Possible, even though he’d never been a Latin lad. Nevertheless, one learned a lot of the lingo over the years. He shivered again, since this was one with which he didn’t especially want to make contact again. Alas, he’d definitely be doing in the not-so distant future. He stared at his script, and closed the paper for the last time. How could such an insignificant thing decide his fate so easily? Hopefully he’d be going to the University of Kent at Canterbury, if all went well? However his offer required three grade B’s, which was quite a tall order, all things considered. But whatever the outcome, he’d done his best.
A Oxford and Cambridge
Joint Matriculation Board
Advanced Level - English Literature
Four essay 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.
Then he saw the invigilator stride up onto the Podium. “Stop Writing, Everyone….” said Jeremy Knowle, didactically. It made his sentences sound as though every word was capitalized, “….Scripts In Folders, Then You May Leave The Hall Quietly.” He’d had him for History on a couple of occasions during his rise through the ranks, and Know All WAS a bit of a know-all. Silently, he said goodbye to his script, and wished it well. “Do We Have Iron Will Anywhere Here….?” he asked, and he automatically raised his right arm, “….Excellent….You Are To Report To The Headmaster’s Study Immediately.” Inevitably, there was a ripple of mild mirth from around the room.
Quickly, he picked up his bag, and stood. Then he attempted to escape before too many of his peers started asking awkward questions. “Have We been a bit of a bad boy, Will….?” asked Barry Eton with the Royal We, as they walked through the double doors together, “….some people have all the luck.” But then he’d been dorm captain of The Six Canees during Year LXXXVIII, with everything it entailed. It was one of the so-called CP dorms, whose members craved caning at all costs. “I’ve no idea at all, Barry,” he said curtly, whilst lying cheerfully, “do excuse me, since apparently I must away….ohh,” he murmured as his posterior was patted patronizingly. “Whacko! William….enjoy….” the taunting voice followed him along the corridor, as he redoubled his speed, his ears burning with shame. It would seem his prefect peer remained unconvinced? Had sodding Shagger said something to him? Probably not, since it seemed Beaten was simply fishing for further filth.
The corridors at The Styx were always dark and cold, but the trek to the Administration wing was somehow a very long one indeed. He reached the entrance hall, and started up the empty echoing stone steps. At the Level 1 landing, he was surprised to find two fetching floozies standing there, apparently waiting for him. Neither spoke, but as he started along what was known as The Headmaster’s Corridor, they fell into line. There was Angel Angle behind him with Gertrude Griffin in front, and it was hugely intimidating. Both were wearing their Tanningtown style black leather business suits, complete with strict short skirts and matching high-heeled shoes. He had a sudden sympathy for Henry Banks in the old retro movie Mary Poppins. In it, the banker had been summoned to the Board of Directors, in order to Explain himself. At the meeting, he recalled with some alarm, he’d been discharged from his job. Very soon, they reached their destination.
Iain Terrence Hayter, M.A. (Oxon)
Headmaster
Susan Sweet
School Secretary
The overhead green warning light was lit, the outer office door was already standing open, and he followed The Dreadful Griffin straight inside. “Welcome, Will,” said The SS, seated at her desk, “you may leave your bag with me.” She was similarly ensconced in leather, except hers was white, as befitted all administrative Staff at the school. She seemed every inch the efficient School Secretary, complete with horn-rimmed glasses….even though he suspected they were only for effect. He knew perfectly well how she was one with Gestapo Girl grillings and interrogations by the prison Camp Commandant, not to mention Miss Whiplash. Neither fetish had been his forté, he mused whilst setting it down. Then they continued towards The Headmaster’s study. His door was similarly open.
Iain Terrence Hayter, M.A. (Oxon)
Quam celerrime
Uh..huh….since sodding Shagger was standing there, apparently engaged in convivial conversation with The Interrogator. This wasn’t looking good, and it was obviously a kangaroo court. The Headmaster turned towards him, as always a strict and Superior Sir, and offered a wintry smile. “Good afternoon….Shanks….” he said, as he stood at the desk, along with his escorts, “….I believe you know why you are here?” He took a deep breath, “Please, Sir,” he said desperately, “it wasn’t my fault….” he was interrupted at once, “….such a sound sentiment,” said his prefect peer, “and one which I used so often in The six wankers last year….mostly with regrettable results….” Oops….since on such a score he hadn’t been wrong, “…. I’d strongly suggest you avoid it for the next week….especially in dorm.” There were two girlish giggles from either side of him, and somehow his shaft was starting to strain.
He watched whilst The Interrogator faced him around the desk, with sodding Shagger standing silently to one side. “So, Shanks,” the Headmaster continued, “during your session with The ATM….” Apparatus for Tormenting Males, Alternative Torture Mechanisms or Apparatus Treating Masturbation, “….you successfully serviced all the pretty prefects running the room….” although he’d not known this, “….the outcome….or indeed we might wittily say out-cum….” very fucking funny, “….was pretty plain. I have since received affidavits from The Magnificent Seven….” he gestured to the desk, upon which a pile of letters was plainly visible. Heavens, it must be like looking at one’s death warrants, “….all of which confirm the assertions of Shagger….” as always, he went out of his way to avoid the humble apostrophe. It must be a Headmaster thing, since Thrasher Thring had been the same. He recalled how The Professor had retired at the close of Year LXXXIII, when he himself had been starting at St Sticks, as one of The Little Red Ridinghoods. He clearly recalled being in awe of his formidable figure, as he’d stood sternly on the Podium during assembly.
Then he realized Terrence was still speaking, “….school takes such sin very seriously indeed. The solution is simple and straightforward, as indeed I believe you are already aware….?” he squirmed silently, and nodded with extreme reluctance, “….so I shall pass suitable sentence. You are hereby rusticated for a period of seven days, effective immediately. All your privileges pertaining to a prefect are revoked accordingly….” he smiled, mirthlessly, “….I have given considerable….well, consideration to where you should be billeted. There were several interesting possibilities, and obviously dorm 6N was one such….” he recoiled in horror at the thought, “….however you will be relieved to learn how Shagger has interceded on your behalf….” the sod had said he’d do so, “….thus it will be dorm 6X….”
fervently, he hoped their rears hadn’t received his rattan recently? “….and now there is the selection of your fearsome fagmaster….” he’d promised it wouldn’t be him, “….I have decided you will be put properly in your place by a frightful fagmistress….” NO, “….but Yes….” clearly his clairvoyance course had been worth every new-pound, “….The Green Goddess….” NO! “….Shagger, can you kindly remind us of her study details….?” The big bastard had been bonking her every Monday evening all year. “She’s in study 1 on Level 5, Sir,” he replied, evenly, “….you will report there at four of the clock this afternoon for your first session as senior fag. Her own incumbent, whose name escapes me….” the intercom crackled, “….June Pettit, Sir,” put in The SS, having clearly been eavesdropping, “….if you are a lucky lad, she may be allowed to….well, Pet It….” very droll, “….she will take on duties of the junior….who will, along with your own fags, have the week off work. Miss Sweet will supply your uniform, since I understand it has not been your practice to play In The Pink during your period as prefect….”
Not likely, “….together with your special timetable and teachers….two of whom are present….” he glanced to each side, and saw especially evil expressions. He’d seen sharks looking more innocent, “….apparently they are most anxious to put you through your paces, and show you who is Superior….” Oo..er, yes MESDAMES, “….so you should start by stripping starkers, placing all apparel on my desk….” he shrugged, and began to comply, “….your study has been locked out of use, though these two teachers have taken some toiletries….” thanks a bunch, “….and placed them on temporary bed Z. You will find it located in the centre of the dorm, adjacent to the Wankometer.” So it seemed he’d be on display to his dearest dorm mates? There was another crackle, “I’ve also issued him with pink pyjamas, Sir….” wonderful, “….and put temporary text and exercise books into his bag.”
He placed each item on the pile, folding them all neatly. Impeccable tidiness had been caned into him, the same as all other scholars at The Styx. “We will have those hands behind your head, Shanks,” he said as his underpants were removed. His knobbly knees knocked, whilst his willy wavered wildly. “Eight inches of erotic enjoyment,” muttered Angular Angela, “such a shame he doesn’t know how to present a pulsing penis properly.” Really? “It’s been one of his perennial problems,” said Shagger, “however, I’ve asked two different dorms to offer Wanker Boy Will….as he was once known….” from when he’d been in dorm 5W, “…. some Helpful Hints….” hopefully they WOULD be, since at St Sticks this was rarely the case, “….after they’ve dealt with any disciplinary difficulties….”
He stitched an annoyingly Superior smirk, of one who’s completely in control and knows it, “….I’m afraid you’re going to get your gonads ground good by The Boot Boys this evening….” Oops, “….an action you achieved on me twice last year….” oh dear, “….even so, you’d best try to keep them on-side. You’ll need all the firm friends you can get, in order to survive the week. I need hardly remind you about what will happen if you’re kidnapped by The Six Lezzies….” his knees knocked again, since he’d heard several agonizing anal accounts about Victim nights in dorm 6L, “….I’ll offer some limited assistance where possible, so you may meet me after your Preparation. Let’s say a quarter past eight at the Dorm wings entrance hall.” Finally, he stopped speaking. “Really, you should be grateful to Shagger for agreeing to be your de facto Guardian Angel,” said The Headmaster into the surly silence, “and having such concerns over your welfare. By all accounts you have been treating him very badly this year….” more chickens returning to roost, it seemed? “….anyway, back to the present….” he picked up his cane, and flexed it between his fingers, “….we will say three strokes for starters, since you have failed an erection inspection.”
There were two separate sniggers from each side of him. “I believe his bottom would benefit from a bit of a beating by the beak….” said Gertrude Griffin, grinning widely, “….definitely a dose of derrière discipline, for displaying such a distended dick,” added Angel Angle. “Incidentally,” The Headmaster continued, “there will be one more whack for Vulgarity….from the thought about Very Fucking Funny a little earlier….” so something else with which he hadn’t got away? “….please present your particularly pert and punishable posterior for pain.” Slowly, he formed the angle, even whilst wondering what it would be like to do so for Angular Angela? She was a New Nox, or Knockers this term, and he’d never attended any of her classes. Then he watched as Terrance ambled around the desk. “Ohh,” he murmured as his seat was stroked softly with the stick. “Miss Sweet,” he said, “please make his Knackerpants two sizes too small, so they will be terrifically taut and tight for his tush and tool.” Let alone his nicely knackerable nuts. “Most certainly, Sir,” she replied.
Swishhhhthwackkkkk
“One, thank you, Sir,” he said flatly, and claiming canees’ privilege. It enabled him to stay silent, apart from an affirmation of appreciation, some suitable salutation and the cut count. “Swish him slowly but surely, Sir,” said Gertrude Griffin, “so he can savour each stroke.”
Swishhhhthwackkkkk
“Ooo….two, thank you, Sir,” he said with a slight gasp. “This discipline definitely does take us back to the old days, doesn’t it….Wanker Boy Will?” he asked. “Yes….Çur,” he replied through gritted teeth….it damn’ well does. “I think another two strokes, Sir….” said Shagger, with what was clearly Schadenfreude. It was the Enjoyment Of Another’s Misfortune, something with which St Sticks suffered in spades, “….one for mentally misspelling the salutation complete with cedilla, and the second for the suggestion about Damn’ Well Does.” So sodding Shagger’s mind reading abilities were also up to scratch. “I quite agree,” said The Headmaster, “which will take us tidily to six of the best. I will apply them with the staccato style, and in pairs….or we will be here all afternoon.”
Swishhhhthwackkkkk Swishhhhthwackkkkk
“Owww..WOWW….FOUR thank you, SIR,” he gasped. Second such strikes stung much more, since they landed on the same spot.
Swishhhhthwackkkkk Swishhhhthwackkkkk
Yayy..HEYY….SIX….” he gasped with one of the Hurting Hellos, “six of the very best, thank you SIR. Thank you for my thrashing, Sir….I suppose I deserved it….”
SWISHHHHTHWACKKKK
“YEZZ….SEVEN, thank you so much, SIR,” he gasped at an unexpected and especially severe seventh stroke. “It appears you are properly out of practice with posterior punishments, Shanks,” he said, “since such shocking Sarcasm is not at all acceptable. Yours was one of the worst cases of cruddy contrition I have heard for quite a while.” Once again there were two sniggers. “You’ll need to do MUCH better, bad boy,” said The Dreadful Griffin, “especially in my class….” Oh, dear, “….and whilst we’re on a roll, I think another couple of cuts would be in order for the several silent suggestions of Sodding Shagger?” Rumbled….as Iain Terrence Hayter nodded knowingly. Was his every word was being broadcast to everyone’s brains, or perhaps like a cartoon character’s thought bubbles over his head?
Swishhhhthwackkkkk Swishhhhthwackkkkk
“Yi..HI….NINE,” he gasped with the other Hurting Hello, “a nasty nine, thank you SIR. Thank you for such a sound swishing, Sir. It was definitely derrière discipline deserved….ohh,” he added as his posterior was prodded with the point. “Much better, bad boy,” said Gertrude Griffin, “you see….you can do it if you try hard enough. Might I stroke your stripes?” He shivered even as his shaft strained, and then nodded. “Most certainly, Ma’am,” he replied in strangled tones, “feel free….so to speak.” Even though she’d asked permission, somehow the wanton wicked Witches were allowed a lot more latitude. The likelihood of a Superior Sir asking for the facility from a feloness was ludicrously low. However, he’d be happy to have his hit and hurting hiney handled. “Ohh….ohh….ohh,” he moaned as she did the dirty deed.
“You may stand, Shanks,” said The Headmaster, “and then you will be escorted out. I am sure you will be looking forward to next Friday at noon….” YES! “….when you report here again for your restoration. Alas, I shall expect you here earlier….on Wednesday morning after assembly….” but why? “….in order to Explain yourself. By then, you will have been dished and done three Detentions.” He reminded himself of the unwritten rule: Things Can Always Get Worse. Slowly he arose, and once again his willy waved wildly. He really wasn’t looking forward to wearing Knackerpants in such a sordid state. “Yes, Sir,” he said, as the two teachers turned. He followed them from the study, with sodding Shagger the last to leave.
“Screw you soon, Shagger….” said The Dreadful Griffin, “….me too,” added Angular Angela with a wide wink, as the two teachers continued out into the corridor. “No Ogling Obviously Over them,” he warned, whilst they proceeded to the School Secretary’s desk. “Ohh,” he murmured as his punished posterior was patronizingly patted. “Here’s his pile of basic black clothes, Sue,” he said, as he set them down. “Thank you,” she said, somehow managing to mouth him a kiss. How HAD sodding Shagger managed to get….well, In with her so well?
Then more memory reminded him of how he’d spurned her suitably strict services, and thus had little cause for complaint. “If you’d care to get dressed….Wanker Boy Will,” she said, “you can make your way across to The Canteen for some lunch….” which wouldn’t be at all fun, “….your special timetable’s in your jacket pocket. I’ve taken the opportunity of issuing you with lots of Lines paper, since it seems you’ll be needing it over the next few days. Locker № 80 is available in the area pertaining to The Yellow Perils.” Hence highly humiliating in itself, as slowly he started to put on his brand-new uniform, starting with his shirt.
“The same one I had during MY time of rustication,” said Shagger, “and you’ll also find a pink clip-on bowtie, plus matching high heels in your bag….for the Naked Waiter wear. I suggest you take them to The Temple Of The Goddess, since she enjoys such service….” the usual slight misnomer, but not enough to make much difference, “….as you may recall, it’s Games on Saturdays, for which you have two treats. In the morning, it’ll be a cross-country run for all the pupils-with-penis….at which I shall be joining you….” he would? “….I promised Ava Frasch I’d do one more before the end of term, to try and keep me in condition….” somehow this didn’t seem like him.
At once he suspected some skulduggery? “….in addition to Helpful Hunts, since she’s said the guilty girls will be operating Amaz♀nia….” oh dear….as he raised his pink Knackerpants for the first time in nearly a year. “Ahhh….” he gasped as the hem rubbed his raw rear, “….uhhh,” he added as they interfered with his errant erection, “….apparently this time it’s dorm 5A….” OMG….The Amaz♀ns, “….however as your Guardian Angel, I’ll help you through it before too much damage is done….” he wasn’t about to ask anything, since it would be a further floggable felony, “….in the afternoon, it’s the long-awaited Naccarim inter-school Challenge matches with St Templars….” he hadn’t heard, “….Have A Thrash has decided to field you in one of the two teams….” HELL, “….she likes to have all manner of macho males competing, even though they could be considered cannon fodder….” or at least their balls….what wit? “….but since the bad boys play in the altogether, you can choose whether you want to be with the prefects, or the pupils In The Pink. I doubt it’ll make much difference to the overall outcome, since either way you’ll be knackered naked….before your tender tush is tapped with the Tanningtown tawse….” inevitably, “….so which would you prefer?” No contest.
“Please….err….Sir,” he muttered as he put on his pink jacket, “I’ll play with the younger years. On balance, it would be worse when having to explain to the visiting prefects why I’m not going back to my study afterwards for a shower.” They both nodded. “Sound thinking,” said Shagger, “take your bag….and I’ll look forward until later.” He picked it up, headed for the door, and risked a quick glance backwards. Sure enough, sodding Shagger was intertwined together with Sue Sweet, with a passionate kiss. He’d always been one of her favourite fellas….together with his tool. It was seven inches of circumcised sin, and yet she preferred it to his own eight. The Headmaster’s corridor seemed far longer than it had a few minutes earlier. But what did sodding Shagger say on the subject? Yes….the Cunt At Infinity, a mathematical construct of his own making. It represented a destination desperately desirable in the distance, although utterly unattainable. As regards his swishing so far, surely this was St Sticks at its best? A supposed three strokes had magically mutated into a nasty nine? His tush had taken treble the tanning for his trouble….and this was simply the start. He was under no illusions about his immediate future. It wouldn’t be rosy….apart from an already relatively red and raw rear.
* * * * * *
The main school clock tower known as Big Ben had already struck for 4pm as he strode starkers towards the Prefect’s Study wing, carrying a pile of pink clothes. Afternoon school had gone as expected, and he’d been beaten in every lesson. He’d located locker № 80 and deposited his bag of books….despite being taunted terribly. He hurried down the long, dark cold corridors, hoping he wouldn’t be accosted by anyone else? After all, they’d making the same journey and likewise late. This was the way the system was structured, since the close of Lesson 7 and fag reporting time were the same. The degree of discipline dished depended on the Lateness Regime of each prefect. He reached the entrance hall, and started up the empty stone steps.
Sure enough they were already echoing, from fags being fustigated….or Flogged. Desperately, he attempted to ignore two twins immediately ahead, both talking animatedly to each other. Hopefully, with their minds on other matters, they wouldn’t notice his deviant desires? “Uhh….pleasingly pleated pink schoolgirl skirts….uhh….for Spying and Straying,” he whispered as they reached the Level 3 landing, and disappeared into the depths. “Ohh….ohh,” he moaned as his fanny was fondled by a floozy following him. “As a serious skirt sinner, you’ll suffer for this outrage, wanker boy,” said a vixen’s voice behind him, “since we’re all paid-up members of The Six sneaks, I’ll tell The Lousy Twins of your indecent inclinations during dinner….” so what about HER actions on his arse?
As always, it was one rule for the bad boys….and none at all for the wanton wicked wenches, “….everyone else will hear about it on The Bush Telegraph….” the girls’ grapevine, with a speed of dissemination several times that of light, “….for now, I’ll knacker you into submission, and you can sign my sheet.” Knowingly, she took hold of his testicles. “AHHH….AHHH…AHHH,” he gasped as his nuts were knackered, “AHHH….AHHH….I submit, MA’AM.” Slowly, he straightened up, as she presented him with paper, plus pen.
St Stricktlands School Stretch Slave Sheet for: Louise Roccella-Roland
The undersigned hereby humbly undertakes to bare his balls and accept a suitable
stretching at any time and any place by his Master or Mistress. The balls should be bared
completely before the scrotum is stretched.
He signed away his pride in the next available space….William Shanks. “I should be able to demand my dues easily enough during the week.” she said, “and revenge will be sweet for the corridor caning you gave me last term.” Then she too wiggled away. Presumably it had been his personal demon which had ensured his secret sins had been sussed by a sod in dorm 6S? Those in his own year had often made Shopping into an art form, and it seemed their successors were the same. The traffic thinned as each landing was passed, and finally he reached Level 5. Then he too started into the gloomy corridor, but only to the first door
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