Presentation
Salon 303
shut yourself into the Slave Cage
sleep soundly, Shagger
Oh dear….so it wouldn’t be a time of luxury and luvvy-duvvy. He opened the door and stepped inside to see the room layout was the same as Salon 206. Since it was summer, the dawn was already breaking, so he wouldn’t worry with lights. Silently, he set the key down next to its twin on the table. Have A Thrash was sleeping soundly and sexily, nice and nude on top of the black silk covers. For a moment he considered binding her to the bed, but dismissed it. After all, her instructions had been quite clear, and she wanted him suitably submissive.
So he knelt down and opened a gate beneath the bed. Inside it was spartan, with no creature comforts at all apart from a single pillow. With resignation he closed the gate, and it snapped shut. Now there was nothing more to be done, except for some semblance of sleep. He pushed the pillow beneath his beaten bottom, since his punished posterior was a more deserving cause than his head. Then he closed his eyes.
Dave Granger was in grave danger. The secret agent had been sent to Jamaica, and his spying mission had all gone horribly wrong. His destination had been Crab Key, however he’d been captured by the notorious criminal mastermind Dr Daedalus Crustacian Washington. Surely he should have been a Headmaster, with such an outlandish name? But the middle one must be especially appropriate, given it was so similar to crustaceans….of which crabs were one such species. He was presented pegged out on the ground, with his wrists shackled and his ankles ironed. Needless to say he was starkers, and sporting a straining shaft.
“Good morning, Mr Granger….” said his protagonist as he ambled into view. Gracious me, he even sidled sideways, “….and welcome to my humble home. I was known at school as Washington DC….” ha bloody ha, “….which has somehow stuck….” he paused, and smiled down at him in an especially evil fashion, “….I hope you like your quarters….” not much, “….I’ve taken a leaf….well, several such, out of my predecessor in title’s book….so to speak….” which was, he wondered wittily? “….I bought the lease on Crab Key from the executors of Dr Julius No….” ohh….THAT book “….after he was killed in such an untimely fashion by one of your colleagues in crime….” it had been James Bond who’d despatched him, but surely this was all complete claptrap? He was only a mythical character from the pen of Ian Fleming, and firmly in the realms of fiction? “….you’re here to sample something of what Honeychile Rider didn’t….” the heroine in the story, “….since his migratory black crabs were indeed essentially herbivores, and hopelessly harmless. However, I’ve successfully introduced a second species of what are colloquially called Crotch crabs….” oops, “….which ARE carnivores. They harbour a horrid hankering for all manner of man meat, essentially the soft stuff which lies between your legs. It will be dawn in a few minutes, which is when my crabs commence their morning cross-country run….” dammit, would he ever be free of the things?
At least though on this occasion he could take a passive part in the proceedings, “….obviously each crab only takes a small slice of scrotum, plus a piece of penis. But there are many gross of them, so after only a few minutes your gonads will be gone. You’ll feel each incision, however they carry an anaesthetic in the claws, complete with coagulant. So at the end of it all, you’ll still be intact….well, almost. After the dreadful deed is done, I’ll ask my wonderful Wife to bring you breakfast….or lunch….” thanks a brunch, he thought wittily, “….and may ask you to please pussy. I gather you’re good a taking a tongue to twat….” he shrugged, “….I never did get the hang of it, since I’m much more a Wham-Bam-Thank-You-Ma’am man myself….” so another Dominant dolt, and look where it had got him?
Perhaps not, since he was the one stretched out, whereas his protagonist had secured the sexual services of a lovely Lady. All he had at home were his three pet rabbits Brenda, Myfanwy and Ursula, with whom he still lived as a menagerie-à-quatre. Surely not, since none of this rubbish was real? At least, he fervently hoped not. “Say goodbye to your gonads, Mr Granger,” said Dr Washington, as he sidled away sideways.
He struggled against the shackles, an action which achieved nothing, as it never did. Then a fetching floozy appeared….completely nude. Hadn’t he’d seen her somewhere before? “Good morning, Mr Granger,” she said, “I’m Mrs Washington….although before my marriage it was Ursula Undress….” shouldn’t this be Andress? “….were you wanting one or two eggs?” Did he care, since the Crotch Crabs were approaching? “One please, Honey,” he said instead, Leching Longingly Like A Loser whilst she wiggled away. But why had he called her thus? Hadn’t she been Honeychile Rider….or was it the other way around?
But why did she seem so similar to Ursula Smith, his former school mate at St Stricktlands School? It was all very confusing. He gritted his teeth as the first crab sidled up to his scrotum. “NO,” he shouted, as he saw them smiling widely with impossibly large eyes, whilst licking their lips. “AYEEEEE….” he shrieked as it nipped his tucker….so to speak, “….HEEEE,” he added as a second helped itself to a morsel of his manhood. Once again, he threshed wildly….and this time he woke up in his Slave Cage on the floor. A slight snore from above indicated Ava Frasch was still sleeping, so there was nothing to do except wait.
Æons later, he heard the telephone by the bed….RING RING. “H..Hello?” he heard, but there was nothing more apart from the click of a replaced receiver. Then he saw two lovely legs appear off the edge of the bed. “Are you awake down there, Shagger?” she asked. “Yes, Ma’am,” he muttered, “and raring to go.” She sniggered softly. “I’m afraid you won’t be going anywhere,” she said wittily, as she unlocked the gate, “and nor will there be any sexual satisfaction. I want you at the screaming stage with a properly pulsing penis for my Presentation….” Oops, “….you’ll be having a whole hour of AHH….” Oh, dear, “….tied tightly in predicament bondage, for an Appreciation Hell Hour.”
Cringing, he crawled out from under, and lovingly licked her feet. “A nice try, Shagger,” she said sternly, “appealing to my better nature with some submission and foot worship. Alas, I don’t have one….so you’re wasting your time.” As indeed he’d noticed often enough, but possibly this was why he loved her so dearly? It was always the same, the worse a wanton wicked wench or Witch treated him, the better he liked it. “Crawl into the centre of the room,” she said, “and stop when you reach the Rope Of Rack And Ruin.” He looked around, and sure enough he could see a ceiling pulley complete with hanging elasticised cord. The only question was whether it would be Snuff Stuff or testicular torment? Painfully, he padded into place.
Seconds later, she reappeared carrying a heavy item of bondage hardware he’d not noticed previously. OMG….it was a smooth steel leg spreader. “You know all about Bottoms-Up Bars,” she said, “since I once accosted you with one in your study.” Having been left in the lurch. “Yes, Ma’am,” he agreed, “they enable an adorable arse in the air, preferably with pussy and posterior both properly presented for punishment pain….” SLAPP “….Oww….” SLAPP “….Oww….” she slapped his face, “Cocky Little Blighter,” she said, though with a slight smile, “….so sorry, Ma’am. But in this instance I suppose it’s either some slight strangulation, a scrotum for suffering, or seat for spanking and swishing.”
He knelt down in the Position For Penance, one well-worthy of worship, and pushed his arms beneath his body. “Ohh….ohh,” he moaned as his ankles were ironed, “ohh…ohh,” he added as both wrists similarly shackled securely. “You’ll be needing Naccatape a little later, Shagger,” she said, “so you may as well have it now.” Doubtless she’d describe it during her Presentation at St Bowlers? “Ohh,” he gasped as she grabbed his gonads, stretched his sac between finger and thumb, and tied it tight.
Then she clipped it to the cord. “Eight ounces should do nicely,” she said, holding two lead weights in front of his face. All the best torturers showed their victims first what fate was about to befall them. “Yes, Ma’am….AHHH….AHHHHH,” he gasped as she hung them onto the free end. “Now we’re all sorted out,” she said, holding her hands on hips, “I’ll fuck myself on the floor by mechanical means. I suppose it’s some sort of cuckolding, since all you’ll be getting is frustration fun....” together with testicle torment, “….whilst you watch me at work. I want substantial sexual satisfaction….” so Teasing and Denial, as she set up the system, “….there’s a selection of Thrings Things. I’ve selected The Right Goer for my pussy pleasure.”
He watched whilst she attached it to the poking pole and picked up the control console. “Let’s see,” she mused, “first the Cum Controller. It’ll be onto Orgasm….” as opposed to Frustrate, Fuck to Faint….” and I’ll stop at sixteen. For the Speed Controller, I’ll have a Slow Screw….” rather than Fast Fuck….” and finally seven inches for the Penetration Controller….” she smiled sweetly as she lay down on her back and inched forward, “….I’ll be thinking of your similar circumcised sin….” very fucking funny, “….precisely….” so her apparent mind reading abilities were still working well, “….and we’re ready for the off….” or rather On, “….screw you soon, Shagger….uhhh,” she moaned as she pushed the poking pole past her pussy. Then she set down the console, and the fucking machine began.
Time dilated, as it always did when one was in predicament bondage. Very soon, his whole world was the sight of a slut’s successive stimulation. “UHHH….YESS….YESS,” he heard all over again. Suddenly, he saw another pair of pins standing by his body. Oops….as he glanced up. “Room service….” said Tallulah with a knowing smile, and carrying a large tray, “….ordinarily it would the kitchen Staff doing the delivery, but I couldn’t resist finding out what mischief you’d managed. I did knock, but didn’t receive any reply. Where should I put your two breakfasts, Madam?”
Ava Frasch stirred. “Mine onto the table please….UHHH…..Miss,” she said without any trace of shame, “and set Shagger’s on the floor….” she gave an especially evil grin, “….a foot out of his reach….” the BITCH, “….make it two….UHHH….can you kindly cut up his fried food, since he’ll be eating it all doggy style….UHHH….and you’re welcome to apply him three strokes, since I saw he was sinfully Spying Up Skirts.” The receptionist smiled. “Thank you so much, Madam,” she said as she strutted towards the table, and set down the tray. There were several sounds of cut food, and then two plates appeared on the floor, followed by a glass and cup.
“There’s your cereal and fry-up, bad boy,” she said, “I’ve added a couple of straws for your orange juice and coffee. But first, it’s your neat little bottom….simply Asking for the cane.” So another two dollars, as she strutted away, and reappeared with a rattan. OMG….it was a whippy Whangee weapon, knobbed nastily at irregular intervals all along its lovely length. “HOOO,” he huffed. “An adorable arse in the air in anticipation of approaching agonies,” she mused, “what’s not to like about a So-Sorry-Sir-Ma’am-Malacca model? I’d like to do this slowly, but I really should return to Reception, so it’ll be staccato style.” Straight down, the same as a Sex Thrashing.
SWISHHHTHWACKKK SWISHHHTHWACKKK SWISHHHTHWACKKK
“YEEE..HEEE..EEEE….THREE….so sorry, MISS,” he yelped, “I’m so sorry for Spying Up Skirts.” Somehow he suspected he was only halfway? “Uhhh….uhhh,” he moaned as she stroked his straining shaft with the stick. “Another three for the Thrill Of A Thrashing,” she said sternly. “UHHH….YESS….YESS,” he heard from Have A Thrash, at another orgasm.
SWISHHHTHWACKKK SWISHHHTHWACKKK SWISHHHTHWACKKK
“YEOWW..OWWW..WOWW….SIX,” he gasped, “so sorry, MISS. I know I definitely deserved all my derrière discipline….ohh….ohh,” he added as she patronizingly patted his punished posterior. “Enjoy your breakfast, bad boy,” she said as she strutted out of the room. Now he needed to shift himself further forward for his food. “Ahhh….Ahhh,” he gasped as he achieved his aim an inch at a time. Worse still was how the testicle torment was also increasing, as the Rope Of Rack And Ruin was stretched more.
“Moan some more….Shagguhhhh,” muttered the teacher, “you know how hearing mere males in pain sets me off.” He HAD noticed. “AHHH….AHHH,” he gasped, as he reached his plates. It would be hard graft, but nothing he hadn’t done before. Reformatory Guards often used this technique on their guests, simply to show who was Superior, and properly put them in their place.
Finally he finished, and then his befuddled brain noticed Have A Thrash had gone. He looked around, and saw her sitting starkers at the table, mopping her mouth. “I’ve since showered, Shagger,” she said, “and you should do the same….except you haven’t time….” so who’s fault was this? “….yours, obviously….but it’s past nine o’clock, so your hour of AHH is over….” he glanced at the clock, and sure enough it read 9.03am, “Ohh….ohh,” he moaned as the elasticised cord was released, followed by his wrists and ankles, “….go and get washed. Did Digger say you’d need only your Naccarim uniform?”
Slowly he stood up. “Yes he did, Ma’am,” he confirmed as he padded unsteadily into the shower room….where his overnight bag awaited. He’d wondered where it had ended up, not having seen sight nor sound of it since the previous evening. He washed himself as best he could, and brushed his teeth. When he returned to the room with his bag, she was already resplendent in her Games gear. It was seriously skimpy red-hot pair of crimson-coloured hot pants, with conventional matching crop top and plimsolls.
“We’re ready to roll, Shagger,” she said, “take my bag too, and go straight down to the car. I’ll attend to the room checkout, and hand in the keys.” He accepted it from her. “Yes, Ma’am,” he replied, “I’d best use the fire escape. Although I enjoy exhibitionism, at this time of day there might be any number of regular guests around Reception.” She nodded. “Sound thinking,” she said sourly, “especially with such a straining shaft.” He padded to the door, and opened it for her. She stepped through, and strutted away along the corridor towards the lift. He took the opposite tack until he reached the fire escape.
Then it was down the empty stone steps, which once again weren’t exactly echoing, as he was still barefoot. He reached the base, and stepped outside into the car park. Fortunately the Rolls Royce was quite close, and he hurried towards it. “Good morning, Alf….” he said to the chauffeur, who politely held the rear door open, “….I trust you had a….well, satisfactory evening?” The other nodded. “Most certainly, Sir,” he said evenly, as he boarded, “Rugby Ruby was well worth every new-pound paid.” Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to wait long?
According to the car clock it was only four minutes later when the others all arrived together. “Good morning….darling,” he said sweetly, “and everyone else, too.” They too stepped inside, and the door was closed. Finally, Alfred Heath boarded, and then they were away. It seemed the chauffeur had been correct, since their journey did only take eight minutes in all. He watched whilst the car turned off BODLIAN BOULEVARD, through some iron gates, and along an avenue lined with trees. Presumably this was all part of St Bodlians School?
They passed some playing fields, one of which he might be getting to know fairly shortly. Then they reached a car park, and reversed into a spot which he’d seen was marked RESERVED. He was well aware how rules and regulations didn’t apply to a Rolls Royce. Uh..huh….he could see several strolling scholars of various ages, and it appeared crimson was the school colour. Their uniform was a three-quarter-sleeved velvet crop jacket, with similar Standard Schoolboy Spanking Shorts, shoes and socks. But it was their matching bowler hats which really rankled.
Somehow, it all seemed like a fetish version of Little Lord Fauntleroy. A clock tower quite close struck for 9.30am, as confirmed by the one in the car. “This will all be horrendously humiliating,” he opined, “making a grand entrance like this in the altogether.” There were three sniffs. “Complete cobblers….darling….” said Shirley Greene, “….you’re an expert on exposure and exhibitionism….” put in Have A Thrash, “….and can’t get enough of it,” added Sir Digby Vaillance, “like last night in the car park.” Two pairs of eyes turned towards him, and it was obvious he’d need to explain at some stage. They’d need something to talk about during the drive back to St Sticks. Then he saw a full female figure wearing a crimson-coloured business suit strutting towards them.
Alf the Elf opened the car door, allowing Ava Frasch and the noble knight to emerge. Then it was The Green Goddess….and finally him. “Good morning, Ma’am,” he said, his shaft straining, “it’s a pleasure to meet you again….Mmmm,” he moaned as she kissed him….SLAPP “….Oww,” he gasped. “SUCH A SHOCKINGLY SINFUL STIFFIE SALUTE,” she said with her usual sixty decibels. But who had kissed whom, he wondered as always? Then two more figures emerged from a nearby building. Although he’d already met them both, and cringed quietly as they approached. One was wearing a crimson-coloured cape, and carrying a cane which was crooked into a pocket. This time though, he appeared to be properly dressed, with a crimson-coloured Smart suit.
“I’D LIKE TO INTRODUCE YOU ALL TO OUR REVERED HEADMASTER,” she said, “DR WILBERFORCE THROGMORTON….” so Will wasn’t William, “….A STRICT DISCIPLINARIAN….” he’d certainly second this, “….AND KNOWN AS THRASHER THROGGER….” hence his other nickname, “….WE ALSO HAVE HEAD OF PT, RHIWBINA WACKEL….” and alias Rugby Ruby, “….WHO I GATHER ANSWERS TO RUBY WAX….WHICH IS SPELLED AS IN SWISHING….” Ohh, “….NOT THE ANCIENT ACTRESS AND COMEDIENNE….” he turned his attention towards her, since she was too wearing crimson-coloured Games gear, identical to Ava Frasch. She must moonlight as a professional prostitute for fun, since her school salary should provide her with a good monthly pay cheque?
“ANYWAY,” she continued, “THE HANDSOME GENT IN THE SMART SUIT IS MY FIRM FRIEND SIR DIGBY VAILLANCE….” which must mean they’d met, as indeed he’d suggested they should, “….WHO’S A GOVERNOR AT ST STRICKTLANDS SCHOOL. ON HIS LEFT IS THEIR HEAD OF PT, MS AVA FRASCH….” she paused, “….SPELLED THE GERMANIC WAY….” but what about Wackel? Yes….it was derived from the verb wackeln. A Wackeldackel was a dachshund, or wobble-dog, “….THE WANTON WICKED WENCH WEARING THE PINK GIM UNIFORM….” nothing to do with a pink gin, “….WHICH I’VE ALREADY OUTLINED TO THE GOVERNORS IN MY ORIGINAL PRESENTATION….SHE’S SHIRLEY GREENE, OR THE GREEN GODDESS….” his prefect peer curtseyed, “….FINALLY, WE HAVE THE DASTARDLY DAVID SHAGTON, NORMALLY KNOWN AS SHAGGER.”
He bowed. “The only person present who hasn’t been introduced is the Chair of Governors here,” he said, “Lady Soixante Delia Brusch….again with a Germanic spelling.” He wouldn’t mention anything about 60db. “For some strange reason, I almost seem to know his neat little bottom already,” the Headmaster said wryly, “since it is simply Asking for the cane….” as stated earlier, however he’d treat it as another two dollars, “….although I understand it will have to be the crop and the tawse, for the purposes of this new team game. If you would all care to accompany me, we will accordingly adjourn to the playing fields.”
Sir Digby Vaillance fell in line beside him, with the two PT teachers following. He was with Shirley Greene, and the Chair of Governors brought up the rear….his, in this instance. “Ohh….ohh,” he moaned softly as she shamelessly stroked his stripes. In reverse circumstances, this would have been considered a floggable felony by the Lovely Ladies Liberation Lobby.
“YOU SEEM TO HAVE BEEN SWISHED SOUNDLY….AND RELATIVELY RECENTLY, SHAGGER,” she opined, “I THOUGHT YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE A PREFECT? OR WAS IT SIMPLY SOME SORT OF SEX THRASHING?” How to put this tactfully? “It was entirely my own fault, Ma’am,” he replied disarmingly, “since I was on the floor when room service breakfast arrived, and caught Spying Up Skirts.” She sniggered softly. “SUCH SIN,” she said, “I THINK YOU’VE BEEN UP TO YOUR OLD TRICKS AGAIN, BAD BOY. WAS IT A NO TELL HOTEL, BY ANY CHANCE?” Rumbled, he reflected. “Yes, Ma’am,” he admitted, and fell silent as he listened to the conversation in front of him. “Noting how your….well, other uniform is also crimson-coloured,” said Ava Frasch, “it seems we share a liking for it. Given your surname, did your family originate from Germany?”
There was a neat nod. “Yes,” she replied, “they escaped from East Berlin.” Interesting, “My maternal grandmother’s name was originally Hilda Hartmann, who lived in the City Of Sin,” Have A Thrash went on, “who had a Sister called Hildreth….” she sniggered, “….both names are derived from battle-hardened harridans, but I fondly remember them as sweet souls.” There was a short silence. “Hildreth Hartmann was MY grandmother,” said Ruby Whacks, “which must make us second cousins.” This DID answer a great deal.
Several minutes later, they reached an otherwise empty playing field. “Since we are presently in the Summer Term,” said the Headmaster, “there are no Rugby goalposts present. However they will be reinstated over the holidays in time for September. But the floor….well, ground is yours, Ms Frasch.” He folded his arms as she prepared for her Presentation. “As Soixante has probably already explained,” she said, “Naccarim is a contact sport in the very strictest sense of the word. It’s a hybrid between rugby and English football. Each team consists of six bad boys and six booted beauties. The former are required to run with the ball, as in rugger, whereas the feisty females kick it, footer style. We’ll start with the uniforms, which for Shagger is simple, since as you see the studs stay starkers….” she flexed her crop between her fingers, and his penis promptly pulsed with a second schoolboy salute, “….except for the recent innovation of Naccatape, which was actually Shagger’s suggestion….” he smiled sweetly.
“I have Sir Digby to thank for introducing me to it,” he interjected, “so the least I could do was to pass it on to the school.” Thwapp “….UGHHH,” he moaned as his scrotum was struck squarely with her crop, “….don’t interrupt me again,” she said sternly, “unless you want more….” maybe he might? “….I’ll pass the package around….” she duly did so, “….you’ll note how This ¾ inch wide white torment tape enables testicles to be tied temptingly tight to taste, and the nine inches of slight scratchiness suits all scrotums. It’s easy to be a balls bulb boy….BEEP BEEP, or alternatively there can be abject agony when taking the testicle twist. It’s down to the referee to decide which approaches are acceptable after a bad boy’s been tackled. Fortunately for the fellas, they aren’t required to wear my BUSINESS Briefs, as they are for PT. They’re Patent Purgatory Punishment Pants….Balls Under Sentence Including Necessary Erectional Sexual Stress. They punish the penis with a series of short semi-sharp steel spikes. The more the erection extended, the worse is the penile pain. With the guilty girls running around with their vulvæ on view, nakedness is a blessing in disguise.” An assertion which was totally true,
“But we must move on to this guilty girl,” she continued, “with her Garments Inciting Misery….legs apart, please….” they all inspected her, walking all around as one might when purchasing a fine filly. Even so for the mere males it was more a matter of Ogling Obviously Over her best bits, “….initially the game was only played by the pupils In The Pink….which is the lower 6th form at St Sticks. However, it’s since been extended to The Boys and Babes In Blue of the 5th form. It offers Crop Tops, which if I say so myself are a clever take on an existing garment. They’re supposed to be sexily short…..but not normally with nude nipples, It’s as a facilitation for taking taps to the tits, following naughty nipple inspections....”
Shirley Greene held herself accordingly, and licked her lips, “….then we have Shaming Shorts. They have cut-outs at the back, and similarly what’s called a cunt-out at the front….” despite all these difficulties, he knew Naccarim had been noted as being particularly popular with the floozies, “….obviously offering either conventional cropping, or Cunnie Punnie….” as so many sinful sluts enjoyed, “….again there’s an item missing, since it also only features for PT. There are Abrasion Bras, complete with a pin-cushion casing on the inside surface with which to torment the tits, and again the naughty nipples are nude….” Shirley Greene moaned softly, her eyes closed in an agony of anticipation….Whapp “…..UGHHH,” she moaned as her cunt was cropped, “….by all means select a short slot in my Crimson Calendar, and I’ll put you through your paces in The Gymnasium one evening….” rumbled, he reflected, “….you’ll note her matching football boots. They add additional traction, especially when it’s wet, and ensure the bad boys can’t get away too easily whilst running with the ball.” Or at all.
“There are several similarities with rugby,” she continued, “and a Scrunch comprises four fellas first, and two Tarts behind them. The guilty girls are to protect the integrity of the front row, with one hand cupping each crotch. The Lucky Bugger at the back, as he’s known, has his hands around the two wanton wicked wenches’ waists. Although the idea is to get hold of the football, it’s accepted the boots will engage in any amount of balls busting. For some strange reason, Scrunches are very popular….far more so than they’ve ever been when conventional rugby is played. However, it’s tackling which involves the most floozy fun, since the gonads are….well, up for grabs when holding the ball.
The spectators will usually shout to their chosen team, ‘knacker’im,’ hence the name of the game. Sinful sluts can’t be tackled, but the ball can be teased from them….if he’s able to bend down and use his hands. This is always assuming he doesn’t get trodden on by a booted beauty. However, should he touch the Tart at all, a Free Kick is awarded. Bad boys tend to be very wary of these, since they’re given by a booted Bitch in the bare bollocks….” he saw Rhiwbina Wackel stroking herself where she shouldn’t.
Hardly surprising, since he’d already found out the hard way where her interests lay. But maybe he might get away without one? “….when the ball falls outside the field, there’s a Line-ouch. Six studs stand with six sluts, and the ball is thrown in along the line. The bad boys jump up to catch it….whilst their scrotums are stretched. It’s another high point of the game for the spectators….so to speak….” very funny, “….if a team takes the ball over the Touch-up line, they’re awarded a point for a Try-on. There there’s the chance for a Convulsion….for another point. A dude from the defenders lies on the ground, with the ball placed over his balls. A feisty floozy from the attackers is then allowed to kick it off towards the goal area.
Once again, this feature has proved to be particular popular….especially among half the players. At the close, each team awards all their points onto their opponents’ arses with a Tanningtown tawse. It’s what’s used for all….well, tanning at our Sister school of St Templars….” very droll, “….and one of which I’ve brought….” she held it high, “….the only exception is a no-score draw. Then the referee gives everyone six taps, for not trying hard enough. Anyway, as you see, the Crop Tops already carry a number, taken at random from the piles in the changing room. But being naked, the bad boys need to be numbered, and we use felt-tip pens for the purpose.
They can either be washable or indelible according to the weather….or what you wish. It’s a bit like branding, only not nearly as painful. The figure itself can be placed on the back or front….or anywhere else….” she took one out of a pocket, “….perhaps you’d care to do the honours, Ruby? Shagger’s normally six, since it’s his lucky number.” Taken from the ancient 1960’s cult TV programme The Prisoner, starring Patrick McGoohan. The other teacher took it. “Bend over,” she said with obvious feeling, “it would serve you right to have your bare bottom branded.” Oo..er….as he obeyed.
“I’ll put a zero on one buttock and a six on the second,” she said, matching action with words. “Stand up,” she ordered, as she handed the pen back to Ava Frasch. “As regards team names,” she continued, “this too is the referee’s gift. In this instance, I’d probably have suggested Shagger’s Shower and Shirley’s Studs’n’Sluts. The game starts with a traditional Toss-off, taken by the two team captains. This determines who begins with the ball. Ruby….can you let Shagger have it….?” she smiled, and bounced it once in his direction, “….UGHHH,” he moaned as his scrotum was struck, and he cupped it in his crotch, “….shut up, Shagger….it was simply stated with some subaudition….” yes, “….take Shirley about 100yd away, and then run towards us when I blow my whistle. She should succeed in tackling you.” He didn’t doubt it at all, as he padded away with her.
No comments:
Post a Comment