Summer Balls – Year LXXXIX
According to the wall clock the time was 3.49pm, and William Shanks was somewhat stiff. This was in more ways than one, since his shaft was straining strongly. It was hardly surprising, since he was presently lying on the wooden classroom floor completely unclothed. Another reason was because he was being treated to the sight of two rolled-up skirts….the so-called Tart’s Trademark. They were acting as his Willing Helpers, although unusually in this instance they really WERE so. At St Sticks, the usage was often its opposite. Both beauties were fully paid-up members of dorm 6S….The Six Sneaks. He was indecently enjoying the sinful sight of Evelyn Tenterden’s slit, since she’d been allowed to shed her naughty knickers and place them over his nose.
Meanwhile, Magdalene Drage was masturbating his partly panty-covered manhood with her foot. The soft material, as stroked up against his straining shaft, was seriously stimulating. This was a new departure, since never before had he been forced into frillies….at least for the purposes of public humiliation and shame. Pathetic panty perversion was a completely different matter, since this was something he’d always actively enjoyed. The remainder of Alixander Fall’s Art class was busily engaged in drawing the depravity, which he’d entitled: A study in Shanks’ several sins. This was the second such scene, since Evil Intent and Dredge had since swapped places.
After what seemed forever, he heard the bell, and also the main school clock tower known as Big Ben start striking for 4pm. “You may reclaim your naughty knickers, guilty girls,” said Alix The Phallix. “Uhh….uhh,” he moaned as they were removed from his head and hiney. Then they replaced them onto their rightful rears, and sorted out their skirts to a regulation length.
“Finish drawing, everyone,” the teacher continued, “leave your work on your desks. Unless any of you have understanding frightful fagmistresses or fearsome fagmasters….” chance would be a fine thing, “….and wish to watch Wanker Boy Will’s whacks….” takers would be unlikely, “….you should get going for your afternoon duties….” he looked down at him with distaste, “….except you, bad boy….” Oops, “….I’m dishing you discipline….” but why? “….and also a Detention for tomorrow….” he was already doing one this evening, “….your Lines will be: I am a complete cretin who cannot create any worthwhile artwork….” his torn-up drawing had previously proved the postulate, “….but as for your culpable crimes, I shall swish you soundly for unashamedly Spying Up Skirts….” albeit without any option, “….don’t try to tell me it wasn’t fun for your phallus, since your eight inches of erotic enjoyment gives the game away….” rumbled, “….stand up….” he did so, and his bearing was….well, firm, “….it’s a change from the old days, when Wanker Boy Will was one of the Brownie boys in my Art class. There are no more knobbly knees knocking, with a wildly wavering willy in an abortive attempt to impress pussy with your prowess….” so much he’d learned this week, by kind courtesy of dorms 5X and 6X. The X-p♂sers and the six X-hibiti♂nists had helped him considerably, “….it’ll be three for each skirt, so six of the best. We’ll say staccato strikes in pairs, so bend over….nice and tight.”
Swishhhthwackkkk Swishhhthwackkkk
“Ooo..HOO….TWO, thank you, SIR,” he gasped, as the class filed past him. Second such strikes always stung much more, since they landed on the same spot.
Swishhhthwackkkk Swishhhthwackkkk
“Yi..HI….FOUR, thank you, SIR,” he gasped with the first of the so-called Hurting Hellos. “We’ll be looking forward to our session in your study, Wanker Boy Will,” said Dredge, with a wide wink. So Genuine Jam Tomorrow….or at least sometime over the weekend. “A Bi-some threesome,” muttered Evil Intent, with a wide wink. It was one whereby the bad boy bonked both beautiful Birds in bed, claiming consecutive cute cunts. Hopefully he’d see them in action together? He’d heard how favourite and firm female friends often adopted the sixdy nine Position. “It won’t be the coups de grâce yet,” said Alix The Phallix, “since there’ll be another three for failing an erection inspection.” Colloquially called the Cuts Of Grace.
Swishhhthwackkkk Swishhhthwackkkk
“Yayy..HEYY….SIX….six of the very best, thank you, SIR,” he gasped, averting his eyes and staring stonily at the floor. He’d have liked to watch them wiggle away, but didn’t need another two strokes for Staring At Skirts….or similar sin. With luck there wouldn’t be any studied sadism at this stage, with casual conversation?
Swishhhthwackkkk Swishhhthwackkkk Swishhhthwackkkk
“Yikes..YIKES..YIKES….NINE….a nasty nine, thank you, SIR,” he gasped, “thank you for a thorough thrashing, Sir. I know I needed every stroke of it Sir, for all my failings and felonies, Sir. I admit to erotic enjoyment….and exhibitionism throughout the lesson….Ohh,” he added as his stripes were stroked with the stick. “Stand up, Shanks,” he said, “and then you too had best be away. I fear you’re in for further flogging, since you’re going to be very late for fagging….” so whose fault was this? “….yours, obviously.” Clearly his apparent mind reading abilities were working well. “Yes, Sir,” he said, “perhaps it’s a case of Be Seein’ You, Sir.”
The teacher smiled widely. “I’m one of the Supervisors tomorrow evening, Shanks,” he said, “so should you select me, we can continue this conversation with some BCNU beating. I didn’t mention it today, since there’s one more Art lesson next week for this class….when everyone will receive the rattan with three whacks.” He picked up his bag of books. “I won’t worry with wearing my Short Shirt, Sir,” he said, packing it inside, together with his matching pink tie, “since I expect my frightful fagmistress will want some sort of naked waiter service.” The teacher winked once. “Nothing at all to do with wanting to wander around the school completely unclothed,” he said, “I do sometimes wonder why I bother to give exhibitionists public humiliation, since it’s hardly even a punishment.”
Rumbled again. “Until tomorrow, Sir,” he said as he padded towards the door. “Be Seein’ You, Shanks,” the teacher called out. It seemed he’d finally made a hit with the teacher….having been the reverse over the long years. He padded out of the classroom, and headed towards the lockers area. There, he deposited his bag of books into № 80….the temporary one for this week only. Then it was into the first of several long, dark cold corridors. As he continued to the Prefects’ Study wing, he mused upon the utter unfairness of the arrangements in the Art class. It was a kind of Catch-22 situation whereby the outcome was always the same. Had he exposed himself to them, he’d have been beaten. They’d rolled up their skirts….but it was still HIS hiney hit.
Many minutes later, he reached the entrance hall, and as quickly as he dared, he ascended the empty echoing stone steps. The sounds were from fustigated fags….Flogged, at the hands of their particular prefect. He’d suffered his unfair share of each entity over the past few days. It had been from a succession of Senior Swaps, none of which had been particularly pleasant. One particular problem with a different prefect for the morning and afternoon duties was the need for a Start-As-You-Mean-To-Go-On beating. This would be followed an hour later by a Farewell Foursome. So it had been an extra dozen due a day, before he’d even done anything wrong. Though this time, it would be with his frightful fagmistress. As he started up the fifth flight, he recalled she hadn’t yet said anything about tomorrow morning. Presumably he’d find out her intentions shortly? Finally he reached the Level 5 landing, and started into the gloomy corridor. It wasn’t far to study 1.
Shirley Greene
Templum Deae
Which was The Temple of the Goddess. He opened the door without knocking, as per fagging protocol. “Why are you so seriously late….and in the altogether, Wanker Boy Will?” she asked. “Please, Ma’am,” he replied, “it was Art, never one of my strongest subjects. I’d committed crimes, but Mr Alixander Fall didn’t start swishing me for them until four o’clock….after the rest of the class had been dismissed.” She smiled slightly. “Had you ended up as a reclining nude?” she asked, sourly. “Yes, Ma’am,” he admitted, “It was just after I’d been Shopped for Languishing Along Lovely Legs by two of Shanks’ Ponies….” the new, if very temporary epithet for dorm 6S, “….Dredge and Evil Intent in this instance. He inspected my work, and tore it up in a rage. Then he ordered me strip and lie down in the centre of the studio. So I spent the rest of the lesson engaged in pathetic panty perversion with each of them in turn, whilst Spying Up Skirts. The second slut was simultaneously stroking my shaft with her shoe.”
She nodded, knowingly. “Are you looking forward to the Summer Balls this evening, bad boy?” she asked. “Yes, Ma’am,” he admitted, “although it’ll be even more embarrassing for the fellas than in previous years….unless one’s an incorrigible exhibitionist.” She smiled. “Which I must admit you now are,” she agreed, “having most definitely emerged from the closet during the past week. But what’s changed?” He rewound the announcement in his memory, and decided she might not have heard. “The Headmaster made an announcement in assembly on Tuesday morning, Ma’am,” he explained, “which was when you were away. Perhaps you’d like to hear all about it.” He was careful to make the statement sound as such, as opposed to a caneable Question. “Go ahead,” she replied.
He’d been sitting in the main assembly hall for some time. The really rough raised ridges were tough on his tender tush, having been flogged by his fearsome fagmaster. He was due to do a Detention in the evening, hence he was wearing nothing except one of horrible Harry Herbert Orwell’s Short Shirts.
“I assume you’ll still need yours later,” she said, “on the assumption you’ve another to do?” He nodded. “Yes, Ma’am,” he muttered, “it was dished yesterday morning, by Mrs Gertrude Griffin.” He smiled slightly in memory. “Speaking of fearsome fagmasters,” she said, “remind me of his name?” Easily done. “Please, Ma’am,” he replied, seething slightly, “it was Boyd Booth, who hailed from dorm 6D.” She smiled slightly. “Yes,” she said, “The Boot Boy, once one of The Six Demeaners. You can tell me about it presently….” she paused, “….who I’d LIKE to say was selected with your best interests in mind….” highly unlikely, “….but as I explained to you last Sunday, it wasn’t….” he recalled her saying so, “….the rationale simply being the quid pro quo, and what was on offer in return for the facility. You were, I have to say, a popular property….” thanks a bunch, “….and I’ve successfully sourced several studs’ submission sessions, from decidedly Dominant dolts who wouldn’t normally be seen dead with a disciplinary Domme.” So it had certainly seemed.
He’d been listening to The Headmaster’s dreadfully dull and disinterested delivery, which didn’t get any better with time. Finally after forever, there was an item of interest. “This Thursday evening, at eight of the clock,” he said, as always avoiding all apostrophes, “it will be the annual Summer Balls….” sod it, since this would be the second time he’d been In The Pink, “….in Year LXXXVIII, the pupils-with-penis In The Pink were required to wear BUSINESS BRIEFS….” Balls Under Sentence Incorporating Necessary Erectional Sexual Stress, “….plus a pink clip-on. This year, it will be naccatape, together with a bowtie for ALL bad boys….” there were several gasps from the rows behind him, “….but basic black for the prefects….” he smiled genially around the hall, “….matching high heels are optional, since we would not wish any accidents….” he winked once, “….although the lovely Ladies will be welcome to show the studs how it should be done. The rule about wearing them out of dorm will be relaxed from four of the clock, for the evening.”
She smiled widely, and stroked her skirt where she shouldn’t. “An excellent idea,” she purred, “since it’s essentially the Naked Waiter wear….” which was itself a slight misnomer, but not enough to make much difference, “….there’s nothing like a Stiffie Salute to see whether a willy likes you a little….” he hadn’t heard the phrase, although pretty plainly it must mean a pulsing penis, “….I learned it at St Bowlers….” Ohh, “….along with another one, to which I’ll introduce you soon enough….” he had a horrid hunch it would prove painful to his posterior? “….and you can serve my dinner in similar style….” so something he had right? “….in any event, it’ll provide you with more practice….on the assumption you’d intended to be daring with them this evening….?” he nodded, “….extreme exhibitionism, although I expect it’ll prove popular. We’ll address your lamentable Lateness….” at one whack per five minutes, or part thereof, “…. which will be five strokes, with one more for arriving Improperly Attired. You’ve already failed your erection inspection, so it’s a nasty nine….staccato style, in threes….” at least they’d be over quickly, “….put on your high heels, and assume the Position.” He duly did so, together with his pink bowtie.
Swishhhhthwackkkk Swishhhhthwackkkk Swishhhhthwackkkk
“Yeeee..EEEE..HEEE….THREE, thank you, MA’AM,” he yelped. “I always enjoy swishing studs wearing high-heeled shoes,” she mused, “for the same reason there are so many fellas’ fantasies for flogged floozies in them.” So he’d heard before, and agreed implicitly.
Swishhhhthwackkkk Swishhhhthwackkkk Swishhhhthwackkkk
“Yarooo..OOO..HOO….SIX, thank you, MA’AM,” he gasped. “Now it’s your three for the thrill of a thrashing,” she said. So this was the second of her new phrases….not a bad one, either.
Swishhhhthwackkkk Swishhhhthwackkkk Swishhhhthwackkkk
“Yeouchh..OUCH..OUCH….NINE….thank you, MA’AM,” he gasped, “I was sorry to be so late, and for my straining shaft.” Across the study in the kitchenette area, the de facto junior fag sniggered softly. It was partly PWEP, or Punishment With Extreme Prejudice, when one was whacked with younger years watching. However it was similarly Schadenfreude, the Perverse Pleasure Of Another’s Suffering, and something with which St Sticks suffered in spades. “Your dinner’s ready, Ma’am,” said Pet It. “Excellent….” said Shirley Green as she retreated to the study table.
At least it had been laid, although she hadn’t mentioned any guest? “….Wanker Boy Will can start service….” she sat down, placing her cane next to a cardboard carton, “….you can also tell me about your Detention this evening. I’ll be generous, and simply add three whacks onto your beat sheet to cover all Vulgarities and Disrespectful References.” Very lenient….as he strutted to the kitchenette, and took a napkin. Then he placed it over one arm and collected a steaming bowl of soup. “Please, Ma’am,” he said as he carried it carefully towards the table, “on the face of things, it was straightforward. I was in excess of six minutes late for Lesson 1 yesterday morning, following my Explanation to The Headmaster.” She pursed her lips. “I hope this is hot,” she said darkly, “otherwise someone’s hiney will be thus….” she took a small sip, “….you’re let off this time, June.” Oops….as he stared at the carton, and his shaft strained suddenly, with what was a Pavlovian reaction to previous pain.
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“Shagger says you sampled the sensation last Saturday, Shanks,” she said, following his eyes, “during your cross-country run, when you were diverted to The Dell.” He nodded. “Yes, Ma’am,” he confirmed, “Dorm 5A were running Amaz♀nia, and we were kidnapped accordingly. I was treated to the attentions of a country Copper in the shape of PC Thor Thring. He introduced me to both the serious and severe settings.” She sniggered softly. “Think yourself lucky it wasn’t stun,” she said wryly, “or you’d have been on the ground….” he shivered, “….do continue with your story, whilst I sup my soup.”
So where was he? “My problems had started during assembly,” he explained, “when I’d unfortunately been obliged to sit between The Gods Themselves. They were two of the six Nasties, and it certainly showed. All through the service they were holding my arms, and knackering my nuts neatly with their free hands. Despite my difficulties, I’d successfully stayed silent, however after my Explanation name had been called, I knew I was in trouble.”
“All rise,” said The Interrogator, and the rows of prefects behind them started to move. Then it was their turn, however both Godfreys stayed standing in place, smiling sweetly. He attempted to move around them, but was blocked in both directions. Now the Babes and Boys In Blue were leaving, and with them his priority place in line outside the School Secretary’s Office. It wasn’t until the Brownies Babes and Boys were well on their way when they finally moved. He was essentially frogmarched out of the main assembly hall.
They broke their silence after they’d passed through the double doors. “Such a shame, Wanker Boy Will,” said Godfrey Roth, “since it seems you’ll be late in line….” he’d suspected this had been their game plan? “….so you’ll be doing another Detention tomorrow,” added Godfrey Fearing, “a fitting revenge for all the occasions you’ve caned us over the past year....” Ohh, “….we’d love to linger and knacker you into submission,” said The Wrath Of God, “….and then demand our dues,” said The Fear Of God, “however we wouldn’t want to be late for Lesson 1 ourselves….” perish the thought, “….hopefully, we can catch up with you again before your restoration on Friday….”
“Which they did outside The Canteen at lunchtime,” he said, “I was knackered neatly for a nasty nine by them both, and then they DID demand their dues,”
SMACKK “….OWW….” SMACKK “….OWW,” he muttered as they both smacked his seat sharply before walking away. “Nasty types from dorm 6N….” said one of The Little Girls In Green, suddenly at his elbow, “….I’m not looking forward to having them as prefects next term….” at least this was something he’d be spared, “….shall we go….Wanker Boy Will….” where to? “….The Headmaster’s corridor, since I’m an explainee too.” A good case of apparent mind reading in one so young. “Are you Gail Pusey of dorm 3F….” he asked as they started on the way, recalling the names of The Little Girls In Green from few minutes previously.
They’d been the last ones, since there’d been none of The Yellow Perils today, “….or Brigitte Wareham….or Bernice Able-Tare, both of dorm 3S?” She smiled as they started into the first of the long, dark cold corridors, “I’m Pussy Galore,” she replied, “of The Little Fuckers….” surely she’d be a candidate for the Sex Slut Of St Stricktlands School? “….I’m certainly hoping so, in three years’ time….” amazing, “…as opposed to Wear’em and Terrible.” Presumably known collectively as Wear And Tear?
Shirley Greene mopped her mouth, and he picked up the plate. Then he returned it to the kitchenette, and collected her main meal. He set it down, and she stared up at him. “You could at least have poured my glass of water, Wanker Boy Will,” she said reproachfully, “so would you wish one whack for Shoddy Service….or should it be The Cattle Prod?” His pulsing penis was proof positive. “I’ve set it to stun,” she said, “the same as they always did with phasers in the old days.”
Very droll, as he too recalled the ancient Sci-Fi series of Star Trek….ZZZZZZ “….URGHHH,” he gasped, as his legs buckled, and he sagged to the study floor. Slowly, he staggered to his feet again. “Uhhh….MA’AM,” he moaned, as he saw her stroking her skirt where she shouldn’t. “It always gets me just there when I see a stud’s sexual suffering in such circumstances,” she said, as he desperately did her drink.
They continued in silence for several seconds, until they reached the entrance hall for the Administration wing. “This is a journey I’ve made twice with Shagger in the past, Wanker Boy Will,” she mused, as he had a sudden thought. “I don’t suppose,” he said sourly, as they started up the empty echoing stone steps, “how with a nickname like yours, he’s down to do you when you reach sweet sixteen?” She smiled sweetly. “Yes, he is,” she replied happily, “I was able to acquire a Cunt Casanova for my defloration, to fuck me fully and fondly for the first time.” So there it was again, nothing succeeds like success, and sodding Shagger strikes again. No sinful sluts had ever asked HIM for the fucking facility. Still, he was now reconciled to the fact about his phenomenal failure with the floozies all being his own stupid fault.
“I’m glad you’ve made progress with your personality, Wanker Boy Will,” she said, “since wooing wanton wicked wenches and Witches by wavering your willy wildly was never going to work. Shagger did try to tell you on several occasions during his Private Study penances, but you wouldn’t listen. Nevertheless, you’ve since seen the light, so things will be decidedly different from now on. But do continue with your sorry saga of sins.” He nodded.
“I was swished soundly by my frightful fagmistress….,” she said, stepping slightly in front of him, and stopping halfway up the first flight, “….so how’s about some Straying Up Skirts, and soothing my stripes.” Go for it, said his personal demon. “I shouldn’t really….” he said instead, attempting to avert his eyes from her pleasingly pleated green skirt, and failing badly, “….although the school rules don’t prohibit rubbing someone else’s raw rear.” Even though a culpable canee would face further flogging for the felony. “I should still Shop you for Staring At Skirts,” she said, “and some similar sins, whether you’d committed them or not….” since the word of an innocent young Lady was always believed, despite it being a rouge’s charter, “….but I won’t, since I’m not Wear And Tear….” gotcha, “….of The Little S♀ and S♀s. You can guess where they’ll end up in two years’ time….” definitely dorm 6S, “….however there’s the quid pro quo for my silence.” A Reciprocal Exchange,
“Which is?” he asked warily, expecting the worst. “I want to feel your fetching fanny,” she replied, “since those Knackerpants seem at least two sizes too small.” He shrugged. “It was Terrence’s idea,” he said, “to make them terrifically taut and tight for my tush and tool. Actually, I’ve not spent very much time wearing them, since most days it’s been horrible Harry Herbert’s sodding Short Shirt. But can it wait until we’re in line.” She mouthed him a quick kiss, and bent forward slightly. “Ohh….Ohh….Ohh….” she moaned as he strayed both hands up her skirt, and stroked her naughty knickers, “….MUCH better, bad boy.” Then they continued to the Level 1 landing, and started into The Headmaster’s Corridor.
“Anyway, Ma’am,” he said, “we duly reached our destination. Sure enough, all the other explainees had already arrived. Clearly, I’d no chance at all of arriving on time for The Dreadful Griffin, thus The Gods Themselves had succeeded.”
Iain Terrence Hayter, M.A. (Oxon)
Headmaster
Susan Sweet
School Secretary
The green overhead warning light wasn’t lit, so the swishings hadn’t started. They went to the end of the line, where Wear And Tear were already talking animatedly with each other. “You may go in ahead of me, Wanker Boy Will,” she said, “despite lovely Ladies first.” He bent forward slightly. “Ohh….Ohh….Ohh,” he repeated as two helping hands hovered all over his hiney. “We’ve plenty of time,” she murmured, “and I suppose your seat’s similarly sore….” from the many ministrations of his frightful fagmistress.
“Which one was she?” she asked. “Please, Ma’am,” he replied, “It was Tilly Howe, formerly from dorm 6L.” He shivered slightly in memory. “Oh yes,” she said, “Tally Ho of The Six Lezzies. Was she dressed for Equestrienne entertainment?” He nodded. “Yes, Ma’am,” he replied, “tight white jodhpurs adorning an adorable arse, and long black boots.” Shirley Greene grinned. “I’ll have my payback presently,” she said, “with her dressed the same way. I also enjoy taking down disciplinary Dommes, since they seethe so satisfactorily. She’ll be baring her bottom, and I’ll use her own crop convincingly….” she giggled, “….if things go well, I’ll administer a strap-on dildo after she’s pleased my pussy.” So fun for all the family?
“….so why not slip them down, and I’ll give your raw rear a really good rub? Nothing like exposure, as he bared his bottom and bent forward. “A particularly pert and punishable posterior,” she said, echoing so many similar sentiments of late. “Ohh….Ohh….Ohh….Ohh,” he moaned again. “It seems you’ve been cropped considerably, rather than caned?” she suggested. “Yes,” he agreed, “by kind courtesy of Tally Ho. She rode me starkers all over her sodding study, and the Bitch even put a bit between my teeth.” Still, on one level it was better than doing the ironing. “Since you’re wearing Naccatape,” she said, “would you be my balls bulb boy?” Why not….since some more public humiliation wouldn’t make much difference?
Actually, he admitted to his personal demon, he was enjoying all the indecent attention immensely. “Most certainly….Ma’am,” he said, spreading his legs. Wear And Tear now noticed his deviance, and they turned towards him to stare at his straining shaft. “UGHHH….UGHHH….” he moaned, just like an old-fashioned motorcar horn from yesteryear as she squeezed his scrotum soundly, “….BEEP BEEP,” he added with sickly smile required in such circumstances, and similar to the swishees’ smirk. “We heard all about Wanker Boy Will at work last Friday afternoon,” said one, “by kind courtesy of the Bush Telegraph….” the girls’ grapevine, with a speed of dissemination several times that of light, “….in Mississippi’s class when she had him Walk The Plank. He tarried on the top diving board, with the wanton wicked wenches wondering whether he wanted to wank worthlessly with them watching. Was this the case?”
Oops. “Yes,” he admitted, his ears burning, “it HAD crossed my mind.” They both grinned, even as the queue shifted forward. “Would you like to give it a go?” asked the other, ominously.” Surely he shouldn’t? “You may as well,” said Gail Pusey from behind him, “as I know them of old, and they’ll simply Shop you anyway. They’ll probably become paid-up members of The Six Sneaks.” His own view precisely. “Uhhh….uhhh,” he moaned as he shamelessly stroked his shaft.
“So I edged endlessly, as the long line slowly shortened. The Little S♀ and S♀s had rolled up their skirts with the Tart’s Trademark, and I was having to keeping stopping short. It was worse when they lifted them, lowered their naughty knickers and showed me some slit. Finally, there were only the four of us, and then the green light illuminated again. One of them went in, and reappeared several seconds later to say The Headmaster would deal with them both at the same time. So the other one went as well, leaving just me with Pussy Galore.” He refilled her glass, collected her empty plate and took it to the kitchenette. Then it was back again with her dessert, plus pot of tea. “I’ll pour my own,” she said, “since I know how I like it.”
“Gail,” he said, as he continued to edge in their absence, “could you kindly stretch my sac….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….” he gasped as she reached between his legs, and obliged with obvious enthusiasm, “….since I’m a plums pain pervert….sod, I’m spunking. It’s always the same with me and scrotum suffering….UHHH….YESS….YESS….YESS.” He spurted several times onto the stone floor. “Oops,” she said, letting him loose, “I’d best mop up the mess.” She took a tissue, and within seconds the incriminating evidence was well away in a pocket. There really wasn’t much point in raising his Knackerpants, since he’d be baring his bottom for a beating by the beak in a few minutes away.
So he kicked them off, and folded them carefully. “The good news,” she said, “is this will save you lots of discipline during the day….” he nodded, “….and the really bad news,” he explained, “is every stroke will sting much more….” without any sexual imperative which might mitigate the misery, “….I daresay you’re aware of how the physiology for flogging fellas works with willies….?” she nodded, knowingly, “…..incidentally, I was going to ask. Who’s your frightful fagmistress?” She gave a grimace. “It’s The Bakewell Tart,” she replied. “Joanne Bakewell,” he confirmed, “an émigrée from The Six Teasers last year.”
The younger year nodded. “Yes,” she agreed, “and it certainly shows. She’s never had any shortage of studs all anxious to take terrible tool teasing. There’s been many a morning when I’ve arrived for work to find a fella’s fancy feathered. Then she’d tell me to go and borrow some milk, or some other invented errand. It would give her sufficient time to screw him soundly, since he’d have been on the edge for ages….” she paused, “….did you ever avail yourself of her not-so hidden charms?” He shook his head. “Nope,” he admitted, “since it was the sin of pride. I do recall being kidnapped once by dorm 6T during Year LXXXVIII, and I’ll admit it was actually an enjoyably erotic experience….although I didn’t think so at the time.”
“Please, Ma’am,” said June Pettit, “I’m all washed up….so to speak.” Her frightful fagmistress smiled. “Very good,” she replied, “you’re officially dismissed for the day. You may go and change in the shower room….” but why? “….she’s going to the Summer Balls dressed for Equestrienne entertainment….and she’s borrowing my clothes.” Interesting.
Finally, the overhead warning light went on again. “Goodbye, Gail,” he said, “it’s been fun.” She mouthed him a quick kiss, and he stepped inside the office, vaguely aware nobody had emerged. “Good morning, Wanker Boy Will,” said Sue Sweet, “I was wondering where you’d got to, however it appears you’ve been up to your old tricks again….” how did SHE know?, “….I’m afraid Wear And Tear have been Shopping you for your sins….” Oops, “….I always listen to what’s going on in Terrence’s study.” Eavesdropping over the intercom, by any other name. She gestured to the study door, and he walked towards his destination of doom. Ordinarily his penis would be pulsing at this point, but now it hung limply.
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