Last Interlude
William Shanks was running late….and literally so. Tomorrow, he’d leave MUCH more time for the trek from dorm 6X to the Prefects’ Study wing. He’d have to take into account further unforeseen altercations. His nuts had been knackered by three of The Little Green Men, and four pupils In The Pink. In the past few minutes, he’d signed seven Stretch Slave Sheets. “Huhh….huhh,” he huffed as he hurled himself along the gloomy corridor on Level 6. Finally, he reached his destination of study 13....unlucky for some, and especially him this morning.
Richard Sharp
Mihi parendum est
Even though he’d been a German garçon, the Latin logo was simple, since it was the same as adorned his own study….You Must Obey Me. He took a moment to calm himself, at the cost of a whack. However, it would save the three from confessing the crime of running in the corridor. Taking another deep breath, he stepped inside without knocking, in accordance with fagging protocol. “So what time do you call this….Shanks?” asked Rick The Prick ominously.
He was standing in the centre of the study, wearing a black shower robe, but wielding the weapon. Oops….since it seemed their so-called firm friendship had been set aside for the session. “Please, Sir,” he said politely, noting it was now 7.34am, “I’m sorry to be late, Sir….but alas….” he was interrupted at once, “….I’m not interested in any feeble excuses, Shanks,” he said, his voice a soft thunder, “my Lateness Regime is the same as yours….” so he could hardly complain, with what goes around….well, et hoc genus omne, And All That Sort Of Thing, “…..at one whack per minute. Together with your Start-As-You-Mean-To-Go-On beating, we’ll commence with a straight eight….” yes, SIR, “….since you’re already good to go. Spread those legs, and we’ll have hands behind your head in the Position For Pain.” He suspected what would be coming next, and it wouldn’t be him….although maybe it might?
He held his breath, and sure enough he could see the Standard St Stricktlands School Study Scrotum Snatcher snaking slowly upwards between his legs. “Ohh….” he moaned in an anticipation of acute agonies, even as his penis pulsed at the provocation, “….AHHH….AHHH,” he added, bending forward automatically. “The S7 always enables a bad boy to effortlessly assume the Position, doesn’t it, Shanks?” he asked. “Yes, Sir,” he agreed, having achieved the same result with his own fags often enough. “Close your legs,” he ordered, “we’ll say staccato style in pairs. Victoria, you can watch his whacks.” He saw the junior fag smiling in the kitchenette. I know what you’re getting, it said….and I hope it hurts. For all practical purposes, it was PWEP….Punishment With Extreme Prejudice. It was when one was whacked with younger years watching.
Swishhthwackkkkk Swishhthwackkkkk
“Ooo..HOO….TWO, thank you, SIR,” he gasped. Second such strokes always stung much more, since they landed on the same spot. “I’ve often imagined sharing a period of Private Study with my firm friend….” interestingly enough, so had he, “….when we might have managed such a scenario as this….?” he’d never had the nerve to raise the subject, “….but alas we’re both Dominant….” obviously, he’d omitted the word Dolts, “….so we’d never have been able to ascertain who played subbie….” which was fair enough, “….however, events have enabled me to achieve this aim.” By having his rear on the receiving end of Richard’s rattan. “AHHH….AHHH,” he gasped, as the S7 was repeatedly depressed and raised around his cupped crotch, and the teeth dug deeper into the secondary pleasure centre of his shaft. Again, this was a facility of which he himself was fond. He’d taken it enough in times past from his former fagmasters, however he hadn’t expected to be given a refresher course.
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“Yeowww..WOWW….FOUR, thank you, SIR,” he gasped. “Since you’re wearing your Short Shirt, Shanks,” he said sternly, “I suppose you’re doing a Detention this evening?” The ministry of the bleedin’ obvious? “Yes, Sir,” he said sourly. “Two more whacks,” said Richard Sharp, “one for the Vulgarity about Bleeding Obvious….and the second for such shocking Sarcasm.” Oh dear….and he couldn’t even claim he hadn’t been warned, since there’d been two instances the previous day. “Yes, SIR,” he repeated politely.
Swishhthwackkkkk Swishhthwackkkkk
“Yi..HI….SIX, thank you, SIR,” he gasped with one of the two Hurting Hellos.
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“Yeeee..HAAA….EIGHT,” he gasped, “a straight eight, thank you, SIR.” His fearsome fagmaster was always one with the Wild West Words, on the many occasions over the years he’d seen him caned in class. “You sound the same as me, Shanks,” he observed mildly. Now it would be the extras….anything else, and doubtless an erection inspection, too?
Swishhthwackkkkk Swishhthwackkkkk
“Yayy..HEYY….TEN….a total of ten, thank you, SIR,” he gasped with the other Hurting Hello, “thank you for my thrashing, Sir.” There was no command to arise, so he suspected the caning wasn’t quite concluded…. and time for some studied sadism? “When I was speaking to The Green Goddess yesterday to set up this Senior Swap,” he said conversationally, “whilst you were under the shower, we were talking together about Apocryphal Scholar Saturdays….” so it was a Yes, “….sodding Shagger had already sort of suggested I should consider taking one, as an insurance policy….” in case Terrence was getting any other ideas about rusticating prefects for his own ends, “…..it seems you’ve said the same to Shirley….” indeed he had, “….so we’ll both attend this afternoon. Alas, I don’t have any of my previous pink uniform….although sodding Shagger did suggest I buy some….” he wouldn’t enquire further, “….but since you won’t be needing it today, perhaps you might graciously agree to lend me yours?”
Always happy to help. “Certainly, Sir,” he said, “I can fetch it for you, since it’s in dorm 6X….in my bedside cabinet.” Richard Sharp smiled. “I’ll do so later,” he said, “whilst you’re enjoying your cross-country run.” Thanks a bunch. “You may find the Knackerpants to be on the small side, Sir,” he ventured, “since The Headmaster asked the School Secretary to issue me a size smaller.” Rick The Prick stared down into his eyes for a long second. “It will be one more whack for Impertinently Imparting Information,” he said, “but why?” Easily answered. “Please Sir,” he replied, “it was so they would be terrifically taut and tight for my tush and tool….” the junior fag sniggered softly, “….he wanted to whack my particularly pert and punishable posterior.” Richard Sharp licked his lips. “Sodding Shagger said as such,” he agreed amiably, “and an action with which I approve.” So the running gag was still going.
SWISHHHTHWACKKKK
“YEZZ….ELEVEN, thank you, SIR,” he yelped, “it was a GOOD one, thank you so much, Sir….ohh,” he added as the stripe was stroked with the stick. “Stand up, Shanks,” he said. “Must I, Sir?” he asked stupidly, since the S7 would make this especially painful. “Indeed so,” he agreed, “after one more whack, for the Question....impudence in this instance. However, it will take us tidily up to a dozen due.” Fair enough, it HAD been a stupid thing to say.
SWISHHHTHWACKKKK
“YIKES..TWELVE, thank you SIR,” he gasped, “I should know all about Questions by now, Sir….AHHH….AHHH….AHHHHHH,” he added as he stood slowly, and the teeth of the S7 dug even deeper. Once again, he stood stiff and proud in the Position For Pain….seriously so. “Uhhh….uhhh,” he moaned as this time it was his straining shaft which was stroked with the stick. “Most interesting,” said the prefect, “you’ve always been notorious for knocking your knobbly knees, whilst waving your willy wildly….as I recall ever so well in the changing rooms. Yet this morning your bearing is firm….” very much so, “….has something happened?” Nice of him to notice. “Yes, Sir,” he said, “yesterday evening I was sentenced to a session as a voluntary victim to dorm 5X, Sir. I learned a lot about poise and panache from The X-p♂sers.” There was a slight smile. “This smells of skulduggery….and sodding Shagger, Shanks,” he suggested, “is it so?” Well sussed. “Yes, Sir,” he agreed, “and I hope to hear more about being a successful exhibitionist from my dearest dorm mates in 6X during the week….after they’ve done their worst with me on Monday.” There was a second silence. “Why not before?” he asked at length, “what’s the matter with today….or tomorrow?” This too was easily answered.
“Please, Sir,” he explained, “I’m booked with successive split slots….” Victim nights in two different dorms, “….on each evening. Tonight, it’s The Knackies and The H♀♀kers….” dorms 4K and 4H, “….as decided for me by Mrs Edith Zippy in her Swimming lesson yesterday. Tomorrow it’s The Flaunts….” of dorm 5F, “….followed by The Six Sneaks, Sir.” The prefect chose to smile. “Watch what you say to the sods in 6S, Shanks,” he said sourly, “since they’ll divulge your darkest and dirtiest deviances….plus embellishments.”
Spoken with the voice of experience? It was another subject about which they’d never conversed, but perhaps some time in the future, following his restoration? Certainly though he wasn’t going to ask anything now….not at the cost of one whack per question. “Anyway,” Richard Sharp continued, “obviously you’ve failed your erection inspection….somewhat spectacularly, with your eight inches of erotic enjoyment. So assume the Position For Punishment again, for your further flogging….” he bent down a second time, “….together, in the staccato style.” At least they’d be over and done with quickly.
Swishhthwackkkkk Swishhthwackkkkk Swishhthwackkkkk
“Yeouch..OUCH..OUCH….THIRDEEN,” he gasped, “a thorough thirdeen, thank you, SIR….” or a frightful fifteen in old money, “I’m sorry about BEFORE.” Or B4….Being Bothered By Beating.” Was this it….or might there be more? “Spread your legs again, bad boy,” he said, “Ohh,” he moaned as the S7 was finally removed. “It’s time for my shower, Shanks,” he said, setting down his stick on to the study table, “whilst I’m away, you can spend some time getting to know Victoria a bit better. Obey all his orders, and stay standing in the Position For Pain until he’s done his worst.” He gave an especially evil grin, and then padded away towards the shower room, before pointedly shutting the door. “Well….Wanker Boy Will….” said the junior fag wittily, obviously omitting any salutation, “….what Sir means is I’m allowed to do his dirty work….” he ventured out of the kitchenette, “….he can’t do so himself, since it wouldn’t be properly professional. But how are the mighty fallen….you big bastard….” Oops, “….I didn’t mind the Canteen Caning last week for being Last Out, since it was my own sodding fault. However, let me cordially remind you about what followed?”
He’d been lost in his own thoughts, and glanced around in horror to see The Canteen was empty. Dammit….he’d done it again, and was due derrière discipline. “Take your tray,” ordered the Canteen Monitor, whose name he knew to be one William Shanks, and a Dominant dolt. Apparently though, he’d attended a Reformatory during the holidays, hence his crew cut. He hadn’t heard of such institutions, however hopefully he’d find out one day?
“I can set you straight,” he said sourly, “it’s where mere males go to be….well, reformed. Often as not, they’re sent by their long-suffering Wives or girlfriends. It’s a strict disciplinary and bondage regime, enforced by lovely Lady Guards. They have a special uniform, known as the Reformatory regalia. It’s a seriously strict Mistress suit which featured a tight white militaristic top with shoulder flashes to signify authority, some seamed stockings, black boots and matching miniskirt. They also all carry an Officer’s crop, with a whip and cane as required for use on the guests.”
There was a short silence. “So where’s the problem?” he asked, “it all sounds rather fun.” Of sorts, and he shrugged. “It’s horrendously humbling and humiliating,” he agreed, “the idea being to show studs who’s Superior, take them down, and put them in their place. In all honesty, it works well.” There was a neat nod. “Nice to know,” he said, “in three years’ time, when I’m one of The Six X-hibiti♂nists, I could certainly see myself signing up to one.” Most likely, he’d do well.
He tidied the table, leaving a single spoon at the far end which a previous diner had managed to miss. Then he stood up and walked across to the Crockery Collection Cache, where he duly deposited the débris. “So what about the spoon?” asked the prefect….but what about it? “Please….Çur,” he replied hotly, “it wasn’t mine, Sir.” Iron Will gave an evil chuckle. “I never said it was,” he said impatiently, “you should simply have done your civic duty. It will be three more whacks as follows: The first is for Failure to tidy table, secondly Arguing….and a third for Mentally Misspelling the salutation, complete with cedilla….” rumbled, “….lower your Standard Schoolboy Spanking Shorts.”
Glowering, he took down the taut tight trousers, and an errant erection emerged. “Oops,” said the prefect, “you’ve already accrued another three, for evident erectile excitement. So it will be a nasty nine….” hopefully staccato style in threes, since otherwise he was likely to be late for Lesson 5, “….one at a time….” the BASTARD, he was doing this on purpose, “….with one more whack for the unspoken Vulgarity, which will take us to a total of ten….” how was it the prefects and teachers had this uncanny ability to read minds? “….bend over to be beaten, bad boy.”
“You may recall your wretched rattan ending up at eleven,” he said, “since you sodding succeeded in fucking well finding a further floggable felony. So what started out as three magically mutated, in accordance with the unwritten rule….” Punishments Propagate, But Canings Can Become Compounded, “….finally, your flogging finished.”
Swishhthwackkkkk
“Yezz….” he yelped, “eleven, thank you Sir. Thank you for all my swishings, Sir. I know I needed them.” He glanced up at the wall clock, and saw it was 1.43pm. “Your name and dorm, for my beat sheet?” he asked. “Please Sir,” he replied, “it’s Rear, Victor, of dorm 3X, Sir.” William Shanks smiled. “So one of the little X-pletives,” he said, “and how is your rear….Rear…?” very fucking funny, as always, “….with one more whack for another of what must surely be Victoria’s Vulgarities. Given your dorm, I daresay it’s understandable.” What wonderful wit….but quite correct.
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“Yikes….twelve,” he gasped, “a dozen due, thank you Sir. I should know better, Sir.” Hopefully this was it? “Sort yourself out,” he said, “and be on your way.” Another two minutes lost. “Ahhh,” he gasped as he raised his Shorts, and their hem scraped across his stripes. Then he continued quickly from The Canteen.
“I ran recklessly all the way to the Teaching wings,” he said, “and for once, luck was with me. I collected my bag of books from my locker, and headed for History with Daniel Manning. Despite all my efforts I was a minute late….no thanks to you, big bastard….” Oh, dear, “….Dan The Man decisively dished the derrière discipline, with a further flogging of four. So it was some sodding sixteen strokes….sorry, I mean fucking fourdeen, mostly because of not clearing a sodding spoon which wasn’t even mine. Good going, even by sodding St Sticks’ standards….” put thus, he could only agree, “….your sodding scrotum’s going to suffer so much….Shanks….” he flexed his fingers, “….a knackering of at least a nasty nine….” Oo..er, yes, SIR….even as his penis pulsed.
Somehow, it was strangely stimulating being knackered by one of the younger years, “….the same as The Tough Guy. I enjoyed watching him demand his dues in The Canteen when you were properly In The Pink, so be aware I shall do the same.” Oops. “Guido Tuffleigh fagged for the previous prefect Charles Ringer,” he confirmed, “and was often wrung out by The Wringer.”
There was a slight smile. “VERY fucking funny,” he said, “only this time I can say it straight, without being beaten for bad language.” He moved forward, and took hold of his testicles. “AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….” he gasped as his nuts were knackered, “….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….” were they at nine? “….AHHH….AYEEEEE….I submit, SIR,” The helping hand was released, however it was only a temporary respite. Then a piece of paper was offered to him, plus pen. “You can lower your arms, Shanks,” he said, “and sign my sodding sheet.”
St Stricktlands School Stretch Slave Sheet for: Victor Rear
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. Then his testicles were taken between finger and thumb. “AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH,” he gasped as his scrotum was stretched soundly, “AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AYEEEEE….I am your stretch slave, SIR.” Was he done? “Now I shall wank your willy….William,” he said, “tell me when you’re about to spurt.” Horrendously humiliating, but again somehow strangely stimulating, so perhaps he’d always been a closet exhibitionist? Hadn’t he wanted to do something similar yesterday whilst standing on the top diving board in the Swimming Pool?
Also, he recalled ruefully, to expose himself in The X-P♂sers the previous week. “Uhhh….Uhhh….Uhhh,” he moaned whilst his willy was wanked worthlessly. “Eight inches of erotic enjoyment,” muttered the junior fag, “exactly as Sir said. How does it feel to fuck, since alas it’s a penile pleasure for which I’ll have to wait a while?” Easily explained….after a fashion. “Uhhh….Uhhh….fucking’s fun,” he confirmed, “the straining shaft softly strokes the slut’s slit….Uhhh….you hump her hard….uhhh….until you reach your climax….Uhhh….which is when you spunk….UHHH….stop.” Just in time too, since he saw the door open again. “Go and clean the shower, Shanks,” said Richard Sharp, “whilst Victoria serves my breakfast. There’s no assembly this morning, owing to the exams still in progress. So I want some hard work out of you until half past eight, after which you can get your grub.” He nodded. “Yes, Sir,” he muttered as he padded away.
* * * *
According to Big Ben it was 9.29am when he stood starkers in the Staff car park, along with a gross of other bad boys. Half were his present peers-with-penis In The Pink, whilst the remainder were The Boys In Blue….when dressed. He’d worked hard in Rick The Prick’s shower room, but alas the prefect had still found fault, and dished more decisive discipline. A flogging of a further five had been followed by his Farewell Foursome, making a nasty nine in all. Then he’d been dismissed for the duration. For his afternoon fagging session, he’d be back with The Green Goddess….so lovely, light and lithe.
He’d eaten his belated breakfast in The Canteen, seated with Benjamin Notus, Simon Cox and Simon Cone of dorm 5X, when Victoria had demanded his dues again. As alas had Guido Tuffleigh, who’d gleefully told him how it took him back to the good old days. Then The X-P♂sers had departed with him to the Games changing room. Sodding Shagger had asked them to be his Guardian Angels, and they’d done well. NB, Cyclone and Cyclops had corralled him completely before escorting him outside to the Staff car park, where cross-country runs traditionally commenced.
Hello, everyone….” said Shagger, ambling up to him, and similarly starkers. He hadn’t seen him before now, so presumably he’d strode straight from his study? He’d always suspected him of enjoying exhibitionism, whilst wandering around the school completely unclothed, “….thanks for looking out for William’s back….” and balls, “….there’s no need to run with him, since I’ll do so, and I’d only slow you down….” he turned towards him, “….how did you get on with my firm friends yesterday evening?” He smiled sweetly. “Very well, thank you….err….Shagger,” he replied, “I learned a lot, though these most helpful chaps said I’ll have to work on my personality.”
There were several sniggers. “He has all the makings of an excellent exhibitionist, Shagger,” said the dorm captain, “the same as you are….and I hope we will be as well?” He glanced around, and spotted several of his dearest dorm mates from dorm 6X strutting around, similarly showing off their straining shafts. Then he heard Big Ben striking for 9.30am, and saw Ava Frasch approaching, dressed in her Games gear. It was a seriously skimpy red-hot pair of hot pants, with conventional crimson-coloured crop top, plus matching plimsolls….PEEP went her whistle.
“Good morning all,” she said, “on this bright and sunny morning, just perfect for some sound exercise in the countryside. Since there’s no shortage of your peers-with-pussy offering Helpful Hints….” there were several groans, and she gave a wide pout, “….wassamatter chaps….variety is the spice of life. So as regards Route, today you can choose between the GWR….” the Great Western, one of the Big Four railway companies of yesteryear, “….or you can try your luck with the SR….” the Southern, “….alas the Shortest Route may not necessarily be the best, since it’s in bandit country, and The Amaz♀ns are running Amaz♀nia. It’s a question of risk reduction, although anyone not making it back to the finishing line before midday is dished a Detention. I shan’t be running with you today, since I wouldn’t wish to see anything unfortunate….” PEEP “….stand in a long line everyone, hands on heads….” she produced a felt-tip pen from a pocket, “….I’ve just spotted Shagger, so he can be № 6, since I know it’s his lucky number.”
There was a flurry of activity as the bad boys all arranged themselves in accordance with their preferences. “You always wanted to be № 1, didn’t you….Phoney Tony….” she said sourly, whilst applying a large numeral to The Honourable Anthony Giles Harwood Fontesque-Smythe, “….with your pedigree, and your father being one of the largest land owners in the country, I daresay it isn’t surprising.” Viscount Claude Linley Anthony Montgomery Standish, reputedly worth mega-millions, if he recalled rightly. She worked her wicked way along the line, “Seven inches of circumcised sin, Shagger,” she said with a smile, “I noted your offer to undertake one more run before the end of term, which might help you keep in condition for a little longer….if you actually complete all of it.”
But why wouldn’t he? “Ohh,” he murmured as his number was applied. “So, Shanks,” she said, with a smile, “№ 8, and everyone can see your eight inches of erotic enjoyment….” somehow, its exposure felt good, “….no longer are you waving your willy wildly, nor knocking your knobbly knees….” she mouthed him a kiss, and his penis pulsed even as she wrote the figure onto his torso. It was a bit like branding, though obviously not nearly as painful. “It’s always easy to spot The X-p♂sers and The Six X-hibiti♂nists,” she mused as she continued along the line, “since they present penises with such personality, poise and panache.” As indeed he’d said earlier to his fearsome fagmaster.
Finally, she finished….PEEP. “Don’t forget the sign-in sheet….” in the bus shelter at the village square, “….since we wouldn’t want any cheating….” no….MA’AM, “….which is a croppable crime…..” PEEEEP went the dismissal whistle, “….away with you all.” They started to run, the fittest pulling away in front almost immediately. His stamina had never been the strongest, and he knew it was the same with sodding Shagger. “Huhh….huhh,” they both huffed after the first few paces….which was the easy part. “I suppose we should go the….huhh….Great Way Round….” the traditional mnemonic, “….since we’re probably both….huhh….prime targets for bandits?”
Shagger shook his head. “There’s a….huhh….certain psychology here….huhh….Will,” he replied, “the fastest fall into all the various snares first….huhh….and there’s only so much time available….huhh….so if you don’t mind….huhh….we’ll opt for The Shortest Route….huhh….even though it’s occupied by The Amaz♀ns.” He only hoped he had some sort of cunning plan, since on the surface it seemed somewhat silly….well, more like completely crackers.
They passed the playing fields, as the long line of pink figures continued to stretch out away into the distance. “It….huhh….appears you’ve The X-p♂sers looking out for your best interests, Will,” said Shagger, “so presumably you were able to….huhh….make your peace with them yesterday evening?” She shivered slightly. “Huhh….yes,” he admitted, “I was….huhh….strung up by my scrotum with a….huhh….Rope Of Rack And Ruin….huhh….and had to be their balls bulb boy….huhh….and also for The SS….huhh….who called in to see how I was getting on.” There was a short silence. “There’s an honour….huhh,” Shagger replied, “if she took a trek over to the Dorm wings specially….huhh….but being a Friday evening….huhh….I assume she was role-playing the prison Camp Commandant?”
His penis pulsed as he recalled the sight. “Yes,” he agreed, “it was….huhh…. Die Gefängnislagerkommandantin….huhh….and she explained how her six Sesquipedalian Sequential Suitor Service Sessions worked….huhh….clearly grooming them for next term….huhh….I admit I may have missed out by declining the offer of her strict services….huhh….but in the same connection….huhh….for my German Prep I had to learn something called a Vokabelverzeichnis….huhh….twelve pages of seriously suspect German words and phrases….huhh….it seemed the type of thing the School Secretary might have invented?” Shagger winked once.
“Well sussed,” he agreed, “and….huhh….much more like a deviant’s dictionary….” just as he’d thought, “….huhh….but it’s hers….huhh….since I suggested Angel might borrow a copy for her similar sessions….huhh….so you should enjoy your Sunday Special with her tomorrow.” Presumably it was possible? “Huhh….The Dreadful Griffin told me I should be six minutes late, Shagger….huhh,” he said, “but why….huhh….she said you knew the reason….huhh….you and all the other confounded Cunt Casanovas.” He nodded, sagely. “It’s to enable an entrée into Put-You-In-Your-Place punishment,” he explained, “should the disciplinary Domme be feeling so inclined….huhh….something Relay told me last year.” Raymond Lee, previous prefect and self-professed Purveyor Of Penis.
The fields ended, and now they started into the woodland walks. “Your attendance at Madam Dee’s….huhh….Reformatory was an excellent start….huhh,” said Shagger, “I didn’t ask….huhh….but were you able to claim her….huhh….cute cunt as your guest reward?” He smiled smugly. “Yes thanks, Shagger….huhh,” he replied, “and well worth the wait….huhh….should we really be going this way….huhh….since it goes quite close to The Dell?” Famous last words, since at the same second, a large heavy mesh net fell on them both, virtually knocking them to the ground. “A warm welcome, bad boys,” said dark damsel, “who have we here?”
Slowly, they struggled to their feet, as the netting was removed. Oh dear, since the posse of three were wearing the Amazonian apparel, or Warrior wear. It was lots of shiny steel chain link, and black leather across their bodies. Their beautiful boobs were pushed to prominence, with what was almost breast bondage. Their strap skirts were only just decent, and it was unlikely that either was wearing anything underneath. Needless to say, they both wore black leather laced thigh-boots. They replaced the net with blue Ropes Of Rack And Ruin. “Ohhh….ohhh,” they both gasped as their balls were bound.
Then their hands were held behind their heads, tied tightly to their necks. “Ma’am will be pleased, Beth,” said one of them, “since it seems we’ve snared Shagger….and Shanks. Kindly walk quickly….unless you want Tina to assist?” Shagger shook his head. “No….Mesdemoiselles,” he said, “for Wanker Boy Will’s benefit, she’s Ballantyne Beta….or Ball Beater….” Oops, “….we’ll co-operate.” SMACKK “….Oww,” he gasped….SMACKK “…Oww,” he added as their hineys were hit hard. “A neat little bottom….” mused Beth, “….plus a particularly pert and punishable posterior,” added Tina.
Together with their captors….or rather Captresses, they padded along the path. “It wasn’t my idea to come this way….” he started to say….SLAPP “….no more talking….Wanker Boy Will,” one of them snapped, “and this is one way you WON’T be cumming….” ha bloody ha, “….you Dominant dolt, and a complete cretin who caned me comprehensively in a corridor last week….” Oh, dear, “….to refresh your memory, I’m Jane Fitzwilliam-Hyssop.” Yes….Hissy Fits. “She’s renowned for her rants and raves,” said the third, with pair of purple eyes, “and temper tantrums….in addition to having hissy fits. By the way, I’m Violet Halter….who you caned in The Canteen last term.” So she must be Ultra Violet? Soon, they reached the small open clearing in the dense woodland.
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