Sunday Specials
Shirley Greene
Templum Deae
June – report at 4pm
The Temple of the Goddess....but why had the de facto junior fag been dismissed for the duration? In accordance with fagging protocol, he needn’t knock, so simply opened the door and stepped inside. Oops....since it was abundently clear why Pet It wasn’t wanted. Plainly, there was a traditional threesome in progress, with two studs and a slut. Basically, both bad boys would be bonking the Bird, with several combinations for coitus….or cuckolding.
Two of his prefect peers-with-penis were starkers on the study floor, in the Position For Penance. It was one well-worthy of worship, and with every good reason. The Green Goddess was wearing only black leather studded armlets and spiked Mistress collar, together with long black Sinatra-style laced thigh-boots. Quickly, he averted his eyes....Thwackk “….Ahhh….” gasped Adrian Turtle as the seven strands of suffering struck his bruised back….Thwackk “….Ahhh,” added John Title, when he too met her martinet.
“They’ve been Ogling Obviously Over me, Shanks,” she said, when she saw him approach, “but then I recall they were in the six ♂glers last year, so it isn’t surprising….” it had definitely been dorm 6O, “….despite tempting me with….well, tittle-tattle….” what wonderful wit, “….working with one of my weaknesses, having hailed from The Six Sneaks. However, I reminded them about how Sneaking is a sin, and swished them soundly instead. I shall shortly enjoy breakfast, with the Naked Waiter wear….” the slight misnomer, with pink clip-on bowties and matching high heels? “….should it be satisfactory, I MAY allow a little latitude with my labial lips.”
He nodded, after this homily. “Most certainly, Ma’am,” he murmured, “should I start preparing your meal?” She shook her head. “No,” she replied, “which is one whack onto your beat sheet for a caneable Question….” he’d never learn, “….Laura Ashley can do so shortly, since you’ve a second Senior Swap….of which there’ll be several more….” really? Thwackk “….Ahhh,” gasped Tittle, “….I didn’t think there’d be any shortage of studs and sluts all anxious to take you down, in order to put you properly in your place….and I haven’t been disappointed. It’s simply a matter of selecting those from whom I want a suitable quid pro quo….” a Reciprocal Exchange, “….so this morning it’s Max Headroom, whom I’ve always fancied furiously….” what, he wondered wildly?
“But he’s a gay guy, Ma’am,” he interjected, “….of which I’m well aware,” she said smoothly, “and he was indeed one of The Six Gays last year….so there’s another whack for Interrupting me so rudely. But he wanted very much to deal with your delectable derrière….” Oops, “….although rest assured he’ll be properly professional….and you won’t be buggered about….” for which much thanks….Thwackk “….Ahhh,” gasped Tattle, “….but he was prepared to put aside his poking preferences and have a hump with a hussy….” Thwackk….Thwackk “….Ahhh,” they both added together, “….even though he may not enjoy the erotic experience of penetrating a pussy, rather than a rear….”
good for her, having successfully turned him into a Bi boy, “….report to me this afternoon as usual, by which time I should have sorted out a suitable schedule of Swaps….” she smiled thinly, “….bearing in mind I’m away from tomorrow afternoon until Tuesday likewise….” he wasn’t about to ask where? “….at St Bodlians School in Rugby, if you MUST know….” clearly her apparent mind reading abilities were working well, “….so I’ll leave the schedule on the table before I go. Should you meet Laura on your travels towards The Low Bridge, tell him to take a detour to their studies. Do you know where they are….?” he nodded, “….he can advise all four fags how their fearsome fagmasters are presently playing away, and won’t need breakfast. They can all concentrate on doing something useful….like ensuring the ironing’s up to date….”
she gave an especially evil grin, “….all of which will make him late to make my meal….” she licked her lips, “….if possible, I’d like Shagger to know all about how I’ve been cheating on him….” what? “….we regularly role-play the wronged spouse for our fun flogging foreplay….” so she too had sorted out her small submissive side satisfactorily? SNAPP….she snapped her fingers, “….jump to it….unless you want the whacks as well?” Maybe he might, however he’d have plenty of pain presently, without adding to an already aching arse. “Err….yes, Ma’am,” he muttered, his mind a mush, “I mean no, Ma’am….err….I mean I’ll do everything as ordered.” He bowed, and retreated towards the study door. “Turn over….oglers,” he heard her saying, “it’s time you took a trample with a Walkover.” Oo..er, yes MA’AM, as he closed the door quietly behind him.
But whereabouts was Max Headroom’s study, he wondered whilst retracing his steps back to the Level 5 landing? Yes….it was one level lower, so he headed downstairs. “Good morning,” he said to Ashley Law as they met halfway along the flight. Apparently he’d been nicknamed after the famous fashion firm….but very appropriate for another gay guy. “Good morning….Shanks,” he replied, clearly relishing an Omission of suitable salutation.
“I’ve a message for you from your temporary frightful fagmistress,” he continued, “and one which isn’t necessarily nice. You’re to be messenger boy, to tell Tittle and Tattle’s fags how their fearsome fagmasters are playing away. They should do the ironing instead….” he shrugged, “….your job will be to make breakfast for The Green Goddess. She’ll be given naked waiter service….by Tittle-tattle. Alas, she’s looking forward to flogging you for Lateness.” The other appeared pained, even prior to the posterior punishment.
“When captured,” he said sagely, “don’t let them give you to the lovely Ladies. But at least I’ll be allowed to watch two willies at work, which will be some small consolation.” He nodded. “You might even see some screws,” he agreed, “since her junior fag has been dismissed for the duration. But I suppose it wouldn’t be of any interest to a gay guy?” The other grinned wryly. “Not really,” he agreed, “but thanks for the thought. My only problem is I don’t know where they’re located.” Items of information easily addressed. “They’re just down from me,” he confirmed, “in studies 14 and 16 on Level 2.”
The other mouthed him a kiss. “Thanks….Shanks….” he said as they reached the Level 4 landing, “….let me know if you’d ever like to lean leftwards a little. I’ve always appreciated your particularly pert and punishable posterior….” even by a gay guy? “….especially in those taut tight Knackerpants, which seem several sizes too small.” He shrugged, and bent forward slightly. “If you fancy a free fanny feel,” he said, “feel free.” The other smiled widely. “Don’t mind if I do,” he whispered, “ohh….yes….ohh….ohh….most welcome. But I’d best be away, since my swishing’s mounting, so thanks again for the thought.”
Resolutely, the other headed downstairs, as he himself started the trek into the gloomy corridor. What was it sodding Shagger said about such journeys? Yes….the Cunt At Infinity, a Mathematical construct of his own making. It represented a destination desperately desirable in the distance, but utterly unattainable. Even so, albeit couple of minutes later, he arrived at study 22.
Maxwell Heddon
Mugio Ponti
Or The Low Bridge, as The Green Goddess had correctly stated. Once again, with due deference to fagging protocol, he opened the door. “Good morning, Sir,” he said to Max Headroom. The prefect was standing sternly in the centre of the study, whilst wielding a weapon. “Good morning to you….Shanks,” he replied, “and thank you for bringing along your particularly pert and punishable posterior….” apparently another gay guy who appreciated his arse? “….may I first introduce you to your temporary colleague in crime….?” he glanced around, and the junior fag was hard at work in the kitchenette, “….meet Garston Granger of the little Grabbers….” at present colloquially called The Gee-gees, since all their initials were the same, “….in three years’ time, he may well become one of The Six Gays, although it’s a little early to make the call. You can shake hands shortly, or anything else which….well, springs to mind….” very droll, “….meantime it’s Knackerpants down, for derrière discipline. In one way it’s too bad, since they’re so terrifically taut and tight across your tush.”
He smiled slightly as he lowered them to the floor, and an errant erection emerged. “It was The Headmaster’s idea, Sir,” he said, “he asked for them to be two sizes smaller than they should have been.” The prefect smiled widely. “I can certainly see some sense there,” he agreed, “although it’ll be one whack for Impertinently Imparting Information. Ordinarily the injunction would be added to an affirmation about nobody liking a smart arse. However being a gay guy, obviously I wouldn’t agree….” ha bloody ha, “….with one more whack for the Vulgarity….” more mind reading abilities, “…..which together with your Start-As-You-Mean-To-Go-On beating will take us tidily to six of the best….” but with further flogging to follow, for the usual reason? “….spread your legs, and the S7 will help you to bend, bad boy. Then we’ll begin.”
Slowly it snaked upwards between his legs. “HOOO….!” he huffed in an agony of anticipation, “….Ahhh,” he added, bending forward as his gonads were grabbed by the Standard St Stricktlands School Study Scrotum Snatcher. “I shall swish you slowly but surely,” said the prefect as the S7 was removed, “so I can savour each stroke….” the same as had The Headmaster, “….and Garage will graciously watch your whacks.” Which would make it PWEP….Punishment With Extreme Prejudice, when one’s rear received the rattan in the presence of younger years.
Swishhhthwackkkkk
“One, thank you, Sir,” he said, claiming canees’ privilege. It enabled him to stay silent, apart from an affirmation of appreciation, some suitable salutation and cut count. “Your seat certainly seems swishable, as Sir said,” opined the junior fag….so there it was again.
Swishhhthwackkkkk
“Ooo….two, thank you, Sir,” he gasped. “Were you told about the considerable cost which….well, cums from this facility, Shanks?” he asked, dryly.
Swishhhthwackkkkk
“Yeee….three, thank you, Sir,” he yelped, “yes, Sir….my frightful fagmistress DID mention it to me, Sir….” he wouldn’t mention how most mere males would hardly consider copulation with her cute cunt to be a cost, “….I hope I’m worth it, Sir….ohh,” he risked, as his stripes were stroked with the stick. “Most definitely, dear boy,” he confirmed, “meantime, Garage can assist your agonies with some Schadenfreude.” The junior fag appeared and stared smilingly. ‘I know what you’re getting,’ said his eyes, ‘and hope it hurts.’ It was the Perverse Pleasure Of Another’s Misfortune, something with which St Sticks suffered in spades.
Swishhhthwackkkkk
“Yikes….four, thank you, Sir,” he gasped. “The final pair will be in the staccato style, Shanks,” he said. Accordingly, he gritted his teeth.
Swishhhthwackkkkk Swishhhthwackkkkk
“Yayy..HEYY….SIX,” he gasped with one of the Hurting Hellos, “six of the VERY best, thank you, SIR. I’ll try to be a good fag for you, and I’m sorry for my sins, Sir.” Hopefully this would pass muster? “Would he pass an erection inspection, Garage?” asked his prefect peer. “Not a chance, Sir,” Garston Granger replied. “It’s eight inches of erotic enjoyment,” Maxwell Heddon agreed amiably, “the same as Big Dick….although his cunt conquest count is considerably more impressive than Wanker Boy Will’s.” The junior fag sniggered. “I wonder if anyone has any idea how many, Sir,” he said, being careful not to quite make it a question. “You can ask Shanks whilst I’m showering,” he replied, “however first we’ll finish his flogging. I won’t add to his mental misery by making him wait for the coups de grâce.” Colloquially called the Cuts Of Grace….and for which he was grateful.
Swishhhthwackkkkk Swishhhthwackkkkk Swishhhthwackkkkk
“Yarooo..OOO..HOO….NINE,” he gasped, “I know I needed a nasty nine, thank you, SIR. I’m so sorry about Being Bothered By Beating, Sir.” There was a short silence. “I shall return shortly, Shanks,” said Max Headroom, “obey all Garage’s orders as my own.” Once again, this wasn’t looking good. They both watched whilst their fearsome fagmaster padded away towards the shower room.
“Queenie is one of my favourite friends, Shanks,” said the junior fag, “and he told me all about what happened during your Senior Swap yesterday morning….” oh, dear….with Victor Rear, also known as Victoria, “….so now it’s my turn for some of the same. Strip starkers, Shanks….and adopt the Position For Pain.” Slowly, he did so, folding each item carefully to the floor. Impeccable tidiness had been caned into him during his time of tutelage at The Styx. Then he stood with his legs spread, both knees bent, whilst leaning backwards slightly. Inevitably, his shaft was straining shamelessly. “Uhhh….uhhh,” he moaned as it was shaken.
“There’s the handshake I suspect Sir was sort of suggesting, Shanks,” he said wryly, “however it would be bad form for you to do the same to me, so I shall have to forgo the possible pleasure….” he flexed his fingers, “….do you enjoy having your nuts knackered?” The ministry of the bleedin’ obvious, the way his penis was pulsing. “Yes, Sir,” he admitted, “and more especially by younger years. I may be a Dominant dolt in disciplinary disposition, but it’s an area where my small subbie side wins out.” There was a slight snigger. “In which case I’m highly happy to help,” he said, “let’s see if you submit before I’ve knackered your nuts for a nasty nine.”
He gritted his teeth, as his gonads were grabbed by one of The Little Grabbers. “AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH,” he gasped, “….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….HARDER….AHHHH….AHHHH….AYEEEEE….me balls….I submit, SIR.” There was a slight snigger, as he was presented with a Stretch Slave Sheet for Garston Granger. With a shrug, he signed in the next space. “Victoria told me how he wanked your willy,” said the younger year, “however I’ll simply see whether I can stretch some spunk from your sac.”
Simple, since he was so full….although hopefully he wouldn’t quite cum? Now his testicles were taken between finger and thumb, and once again it was horrendous humiliation. “AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH…me balls,” he moaned. “Perhaps some slight squeezing should assist in sourcing some semen, Shanks?” he suggested sourly. “AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….” he could see several drops of dross falling to the floor, “….AYEEEEE….HEEE….I am your stretch slave, SIR….uhhh.” Success in every packet, he hoped? “Is it all right if I tell all my favourite and firm friends, Shanks?” he asked, “since I wouldn’t want reprisals during the final few days of term.” He shook his head.
“At present I’m a rusticated prefect, having also been a succubus stooge,” he said, “so my reputation is rock-bottom. However something I’ve learned from sodding Shagger, is how there’s no such thing as bad publicity….” he paused, “….you were enquiring about Big Dick’s big dick. The answer is, it’s currently credited with a Cunt Conquest Count of over eight gross….and they’re simply the schoolgirl sluts. Were one to include all manner of mature Mesdames, it might be markedly more.” The junior fag appeared impressed, despite himself. “I’m not sure whether I’ll be a gay guy,” he said, “since I rather enjoy the thought of screwing sinful sluts.” He nodded. “There’s plenty of time to decide,” he replied, “and even when you do, it’s perfectly proper to change your mind. As Sir’s almost said, even the cedar bends to the typhoon.”
Then the prefect reappeared, still wearing only a shower robe. “Did you shower this morning, Shanks?” he enquired genially. “Yes, Sir,” he said, “for at least a quarter of an hour.” The junior fag seemed shocked. “I thought only masochists liked cold showers, Shanks?” he asked. “Correct,” he replied wittily, “which is why they have warm ones.” There were two sniggers. “I must remember the witticism,” said his fearsome fagmaster, “but would you like to take advantage of my study facilities? You may do so if you wish.” An offer he couldn’t refuse, although he hoped there weren’t any strings attached? “Thank you so much, Sir,” he replied, padding away. He stepped inside the shower room, and soaped himself all over. Then he turned on the tap. “Ohh….ohh,” he murmured as the blessèd hot water rained down.
“I assure you I’m not after your arse….Will,” asked Max Headroom, suddenly standing starkers outside the cubicle, “….but might I assist at all with hosing you down? You don’t have to accept, since it’s not properly professional. However, nothing will happen which isn’t completely consensual.” Fair enough. “Yes, thanks….Max,” he replied, since they were now equals. His prefect peer smiled, and stepped inside. Then he took the shower head off the peg, and slowly worked his way all over his torso. “Ohh,” he moaned as the jet passed up and down his crease.
“What about some scrotum strafing, Will?” he asked, teasingly. “Ordinarily yes,” he said, “but not now, since it’s suffered substantially and is still sore. It was The Boot Boys to begin with in The Six X-hibiti♂nists....although they’re now all my firm friends. Naturally, I was also knackered naked and slave stretched by Garage.” The other smiled. “Perhaps you could best, blast and baste my balls?” he asked, “since it’s a sin I similarly savour….” he handed him the hose, and spread his legs, “….uhhh….uhhh….uhhh….give it the gun with the strongest jet, and the hotter the better….” he shifted the settings, “….UHHH….UHHH….it’s so GOOD….but best stop, or I shall spunk.”
He handed over the hose again. “I’ve no objection if you wanted to stroke your shaft along my arse, Max,” he said, “though without any actual anal action.” He turned around temptingly and bent forwards slightly. “This really IS my lucky day….uhhh….” said his prefect peer, as he held his hiney with one hand, “….I do appreciate it so much when a straight stud indulges my inherent indecency….uhhh….uhhh….Shagger’s the same….uhhh….and so is Poke Her….” Hercules Poke, and another confounded Cunt Casanova, “….obviously I’d enjoy having him poke his poker….uhhh....and similarly shagging….well, sodding Shagger….uhhh….but one can’t have everything….UHHH….UHHH….OMG, I’m spunking….UHHH….yess….YESS.”
There was a short silence, apart from the running water. “Let me dowse down your delightful derrière, Will,” he said, “there’s no damage done….apart possibly from your reputation.” Then he hung the hose back onto the hook. “As I explained to Garage a little earlier, Max,” he replied, “I really don’t have one any longer with which to worry.” The other smiled slightly. “Don’t do yourself down, Will,” he said as he turned off the tap, “the Bush Telegraph’s been busy with the dissemination of your sessions so far with The X-p♂sers, The Knackies and The H♀♀kers….” dorms 5X, 4K and 4H, “….with apparently further to follow this evening from the flaunts and the six sneaks….” 5F and 6S, “….the latter’s a tough brief, since they’ll add all manner of embellishments to your embarrassments.”
He nodded. “I know,” he agreed, “but if I can pull it off, I may yet salvage something from the wreck of rustication.” Together, they stepped out of the shower. “Dry yourself,” he said, handing him a black towel, “you can either borrow a shower robe, or stay starkers if you wish, Will. But when you’re done, you can eat with me here in my study. I’ve asked Garage to prepare breakfast for two.” Very reasonable indeed. “Thanks, Max,” he said, “I’ll decline the robe, since it’ll be too painful having to give it up afterwards. Anyway, I’m rapidly reaching the conclusion I’d have done well in dorm 6X last year….and how I’m an incorrigible exhibitionist at heart.”
The other put on a robe, and dried his hair. “So I’ve heard,” he agreed, “since the story of how you Walked the Plank also made it onto the girls’ grapevine….” with a speed of dissemination several times that of light, “….how you stood on the top diving board, strutting your straining shaft shamelessly for several seconds before taking the plunge.” Oops. “My first foray, Max,” he admitted, “and a slippery slide into sin….” Smackk, “….Oww,” he added at a sudden smack. “Be quick as you can, Will,” he said, mouthing him a kiss, “since the fry-up will be ready.” Smilingly, he padded out of the shower room, clearly at peace with the world after a successful spurt.
* * * * * *
According to the wall clock in the Dorm wings entrance hall, the time was 6.14pm. He’d just finished dinner, and this time had succeeded in not being Last Out. Even so, it had been a close call. He’d been engaged earlier in convivial conversation with favourite friends Karen Eis and Kelly Morgan. It had been agreed the former would visit his study on Friday afternoon at 5pm, after his restoration. Then she’d supply a suitable Sex Thrashing….the deposit payment of six strokes for his fuck the following year, to be taken in front of his fags. All right….it would be horrendously humiliating, however he’d had worse. Somehow though, his small subbie side sought some stick from the delectable dead-clever dark-haired damsel. “You explained why you’re starkers,” said The Pirate, “….thus you’ve successfully avoided defenestration for a second time,” added the Ice Maiden, in her seductive soprano.
“So now what are you going to do with me?” he asked, already guessing the answer. “We’ll demand our dues….” said The Ice Maiden with her cultivated kind of sexy snappiness, one which was almost impossible not to fancy, “….as so many other sluts and studs were doing during dinner.” This had indeed happened several times. Someone would sidle up, and shove a signed Stretch Slave Sheet under his nose. “Anyway,” said Kelly Morgan with a slight sniff, “you do deserve it for Languishing Along Lovely Legs.” Totally true….although they’d been doing the same with Lads’ Legs. Yet for them, there was no suggestion of sin. It was just another free felony for floozies.
Once again, he adopted the Position For Pain. “AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….” he gasped as his scrotum was stretched soundly, “….AHHH….me balls….AHHH….AHHH….I am your stretch slave….MA’AM.” Then he was released, with obvious reluctance. “Now it’s my turn,” said Kelly Morgan. “AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….” he gasped again, “….AHHH….me balls….AHHH….AHHH….I am YOUR stretch slave….MA’AM….Mmmm,” he added as she gave him quick kiss.
“Shagger’s always refused to allow me this little luxury,” she said sadly, “since he’s my fearsome fagmaster. But I’ll address the issue next February, easily enough….” when she was formally fucked for the first time, “….shall we go? We’ll escort you up to The Flaunts, since it’s bandit country and you wouldn’t want to fall into the clutches of another dorm of deviant damsels en route.” Also quite correct, as they stepped back into the entrance hall. It felt good having a sinful slut on each side as they continued towards the empty echoing stone steps, despite them being only Brownie Babes.
He’d been more than mildly miffed yesterday when he’d seen sodding Shagger and Horrible Harry Herbert Orwell waltzing away, each with fuckable floozies in tow. “Ohh….ohh,” he moaned as his seat was stroked suggestively. He reached around and repaid the compliment onto their pleasingly pleated brown skirts. “SUCH a sinner,” said The Pirate, her voice full of pleasure as they ascended the first flight. Inevitably, he could hear distant discipline wafting on the wind. Where from was impossible to say, however since it was a Sunday, the most likely cause was the Staff Study wing….as indeed he’d discovered himself earlier.
Then they reached the Level 2 landing, and with it a lone scout. He saw him signalling to the posse presumably hidden out of sight in the quadrangle corridor. ‘No good,’ said the gesture, ‘there’s three of them.’ Like jackals, they always sought out loners. “So which dorm are you from?” he asked sourly. “I’m one of the R♂tters,” was the reluctant reply, “although since you’ve The Ice Maiden in tow, I’m not about to make an issue about anything.” Clearly her capabilities on connecting with crotches were well-known. “I can offer you a split slot at some stage,” he said, “either the second one tomorrow, or anything further forward until Friday.”
The other smiled widely. “Thanks….Shanks,” he said, “Monday will work well, and I’ll advise our dorm captain accordingly.” He nodded. “Noted,” he said, “until then….happy hunting.” Together, they continued their upwards journey. “Do either of you know who he was?” he asked. “I believe he’s Bilko,” said Kelly Morgan after some thought. “Is it his real name?” he enquired. “Nope,” explained Karen Eis, “he’s Phillip Silvers….I think nicknamed after a very vintage USA sitcom. I once saw an episode in black and white on AudioVisual Record.” It MUST have been old, he mused as they reached the Level 3 landing. Then they turned towards the first quadrant of the quadrangle corridor. Seconds later, they reached the first door….with an addendum he’d not noticed previously.
Dorm5A
The Amaz♀ns
Harry’s Harl♀ts
“They’re my first foray for tomorrow evening, Mesdemoiselles,” he said, “I must admit I’m rather looking forward to being worked over by the tribe. But please don’t tell me Horrible Harry’s been made their Patron?” They both nodded, gravely. “H2O it is indeed,” said The Pirate, “and the other Cunt Casanovas for Year XC likewise….” damn their distended dicks, “….they decided to follow Shagger’s shining example with dorm 6K and The Shagger S♀ciety. It’s always assuming they’ll be promoted to The Six Arses Licked in dorm 6A next term, but not unreasonable.”
Another area of activity he’d managed to miss. “Harry Herbert Orwell,” he said sourly, “with his gonads groomed for greatness….” SMACKK “….Oww….” SMACKK “….Oww,” he added as they each smacked his seat. What were they for? “You shouldn’t be jealous….” said The Pirate, “….you both hailed from The Six Wankers, and had exactly the same opportunities to get out and about of an evening. Yet it seems you chose to play poker….rather than Poke Her.” As indeed he’d told his dearest dorm mates this morning. “All right,” he said as they passed by the Bitches of dorm 5B, “I’ll admit again I was a worthless wanker….well, still am.” They nodded wryly.
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