Summer Balls – Year LXXXIX
Iain Terrence Hayter, M.A. (Oxon)
Quam celerrime
Taking a deep breath, he knocked. “Entarrrr,” called out the villain’s voice he knew so well. A tingle travelled down his torso before terminating in his testicles. He opened it and stepped inside to see both of The Little Girls In Green. They were still in the Position, and both bore beaten bare bottoms. He put the discarded Knackerpants onto the desk, and stood respectfully with his hands behind his head in sinful schoolboy style.
“So….Wanker Boy Will,” said The Headmaster, “we meet, in exactly the circumstances I described to you last Friday. However I was not expecting to hear of several other sins apparently committed whilst waiting for your whacking. These two innocent young Ladies….” apparently not quite, “….have advised me how you exposed yourself to them, and then proceeded to play with penis....” he paused, “....I am afraid all the evidence points towards guilt, since you are not wearing your Knackerpants. What is perhaps worse is the absence of any excitement at the sight of two tempting tushes. Can either of you confirm whether Wanker Boy Will spunked?”
They shook their heads. “No, Sir,” said one, “he didn’t do so whilst he was wanking worthlessly over our Tart’s Trademarks….err….I mean our pleasingly pleated green skirts, Sir.” The Interrogator smiled. “Miss Sweet,” he said into the empty air, “can you kindly call in our remaining explainee? You may tell her there is no need to knock.” There was a single second’s silence. “She’s on her way in, Sir,” she replied. Then the study door opened and Gail Pusey emerged. “I am repeating a Question regarding Wanker Boy Will and his increasingly amorous activities, guilty girl,” he said sternly, “did you see him spurt whilst you were waiting outside?”
She shook her head. “No I didn’t, Sir,” she replied, “as I was standing behind him.” Clever….he had to agree. “Since the evidence is circumstantial….” rather then circumcised, he reflected wittily, “….there will be no further flogging for cumming convincingly in the corridor. So it will be the standard six strokes in respect of your Explanation….unless you have anything to add….” he shook his head, since it would make no difference, “….six for Exposure, and the same again for Stroking At Slits. It amounts to The Big One, which I was hoping to have dished during your proper period In The Pink, however one cannot have everything.” He shrugged. “Please, Sir,” he said, “I must admit to always having had a horrid hankering for it, so things may have turned out for the best.”
The Headmaster smiled widely. “Excellent,” he said, “so we are of one mind after all. I cannot arrange for such an appreciative audience, but hope these three sinners should suffice. They are younger years, for the purposes of PWEP….” Punishment With Extreme Prejudice, “….and also it will be a varlet vapulated with vixens. Ordinarily I would expect this to add huge helpings of humbling and humiliation. Alas, I accept it is of no account to an exhibitionist who has quite clearly come out of the closet. When I flogged you last Friday, it was the old Wanker Boy Will, with your wildly wavering willy and knobbly knees knocking.
However today your bearing is firm….albeit not quite so much as it was outside in the corridor….” very droll, “….and posturing personality, poise and panache. These are characteristics one would expect from dorm 6X….” correct, “….and as such, I think you owe a debt of gratitude to Shagger for suggesting you should be billeted with The Six X-hibiTI♂nists….” maybe he might? “….so kindly bend over. I will apply them all staccato style in threes, so you will see only six stripes in all….” he duly did so, “….although upon inspection of your particularly pert and punishable posterior, I am afraid this flogging is not your first this morning.”
Then June Pettit reappeared, now every inch the lovely Lady horse-rider. Tight white jodhpurs adorned her adorable arse, although the long black boots were sans spurs. Her tight black jacket, and similar style hard helmet completed the picture. OMG….she seemed stunning, especially when she flexed her riding crop whilst strutting towards them. “Might I beat his balls about a bit….Shirley?” she asked, since it seemed they were equals. “Stand in the Position For Pain, Shanks,” she replied. He spread his legs, bent both knees, and leaned backwards slightly….THWAPP “….UGHHH,” he moaned. “Next a knee in the nuts,” she said, “and then I’ll away.” WHUMPHH “….URGHHH,” he repeated, clutching his crotch. Dimly, he heard the door close. Slowly he stood up, and restarted his story.
Swishhhthwackkkk Swishhhthwackkkk Swishhhthwackkkk “YEEE..HEEE..EEEE….THREE, thank you, SIR,” he yelped. Each stroke seemed to sting much more, owing to his spunked out state. “The Little Girls In Green may sort themselves out,” said Iain Terrence Hayter, “and look into your eyes, or watch the whacks, as they wish.”
Swishhhthwackkkk Swishhhthwackkkk Swishhhthwackkkk
“YAROOO..OOO..HOO….SIX, thank you, SIR,” he gasped as Wear And Tear stared down at him, enjoyment evident in their eyes.
Swishhhthwackkkk Swishhhthwackkkk Swishhhthwackkkk
“YEEOUCH..OUCH..OUCH….NINE….a nasty nine, thank you, SIR,” he gasped as they were joined by Gail Pusey, who was licking her lips.
Swishhhthwackkkk Swishhhthwackkkk Swishhhthwackkkk
“YEEE..HAAA..AHHH….TWELVE…. a dozen due thank you, SIR,” he gasped with the Wild West Words. His firm friend and former dorm captain Richard Sharp was always one to use them on the occasions he was caned in class.
Swishhhthwackkkk Swishhhthwackkkk Swishhhthwackkkk
“YIKES..YIKES..YIKES….THIRDEEN….a thorough thirdeen….” formerly a frightful fifteen, “….thank you, SIR,” he gasped. He waited whilst Wear And Tear walked around to his raw rear. Hell, it WAS horribly humiliating. “I will, Shanks,” he said sternly, “apply your coups de grâce straight away.” For which many thanks.
Swishhhthwackkkk Swishhhthwackkkk Swishhhthwackkkk
“AYEEEEE..HEEE..EEEE….SIXDEEN….a sinful sixdeen….” once the straight eighteen, “….thank you for my de facto Big One, SIR….I know I needed it, Sir….ohh….ohh,” he added as again the stripes were stroked with the stick. “You may stand and sort yourself out, Shanks,” said The Headmaster, handing him his Knackerpants. “Ahh,” he gasped as he slipped them on, and the hem scraped across his aching arse. “They ARE terrifically taut and tight, bad boy,” he said, “just what you need.
Anyway, you may leave for what is left of Lesson 1, where obviously another Detention awaits you….” indeed, “….there are now only two days of your rustication to go….” it still felt like a fortnight, “….but will look forward to your presence again at noon on Friday. Wear And Tear may also go, however I still have to apply posterior punishment for Pussy Galore….” somehow, he didn’t think she’d got away with it, “….bare your bottom, guilty girl….” the three of them walked towards the door, “….did you have anything to say by way of Explanation?” He doubted it. “No, Sir,” she replied, “I should be swished soundly for my sins.” Spoken like a true St Sticks’ scholar, as the study door closed behind them. Sue Sweet winked once as they passed her desk, and left the office.
“Then,” he said, “as we retracted our steps along The Headmaster’s Corridor, it was the biggest surprise of all.”
“We were wondering, Wanker Boy Will….” said one of them, as they all walked with the classic canees’ gait of guilt,
“Look At Me,” she said sourly, “I’ve Just Been Caned.” Got it in one, he agreed.
“….whether we might interest you in a conjugal call to The Styx in a couple of years’ time….?” really? “….and I’m Wear’em….although in terms of naughty knickers, I prefer not to do so.” He opened his mouth and shut it again. “We’ll be The Sc♀undrels of dorm 4S next year….” said the other, who by default had to be Terrible, “….but in Year XCI we’ll be The Str♀kers of dorm 5S. So we’d like to stroke your shaft….since it’s pretty plain you enjoyed stroking it for us….” indeed he had, “….our birthdays fall quite close together, on 6th and 13th of November, so you might make a dirty weekend of it, and bonk us both as a Bi-some threesome.” Hell….they were so forward, fourteen going on forty. “I’d be honoured to do so, Mesdemoiselles….” he said instead as they hooked their hands under each arm, and once again it felt good, “….and I’ll make a note in my Hit List accordingly, under Forward Fornication.” Amazing….since it wasn’t so hard to Solicit sluts, after all?
“I was most miffed when horrible Harry Herbert Orwell and sodding Shagger had waltzed away in such familiar fashion last Saturday, Ma’am,” he said, “however since then it’s happened to me several times. It’s really rather endearing, and does make a guy feel good….” she winked once, “….we continued to the lockers in the Teaching wings, where I collected my bag of books. Then we parted the ways, and I went to Lesson 1….very late.”
Room 246
He opened the door and stepped inside to see Gertrude Griffin standing by the blackboard. On it were written a number of Big Words, none of which he’d ever heard. “Welcome back, Wanker Boy Will,” she said with a wide smile. “I’d expected you’d be here a quarter of an hour ago.” He shrugged. “I’m sorry to be so lamentably late, Ma’am,” he said, “but I lost my place in line outside The School Secretary’s office, and then there were….well, other issues in addition to my Explanation.” There were several sniggers. “We’ll discuss it later,” she said, “do take a seat somewhere.”
He looked around the room. “I’d have liked to sit with Rocky, Ma’am,” he said, “but alas the seats either side of her are taken.” It was two of his temporary dorm mates, Aesop Hislop and Malcolm Gorst. “She’s suddenly become a popular property,” she agreed, “I suspect something to do with your suggestion about The Six Sneaks basically being Humiliatrices….” more mirth, “….coupled with them becoming Shanks’ P♀nies a few days ago….” she licked her lips, “….and also Roccella-Roland’s minor Mental Makeover.” Then one of her two comrades in crime, raised his hand. The teacher gestured towards him.
“Please, Ma’am,” said Aesop Hislop, “I’ve….well, played my part this morning, so I’m quite happy to take an otherwise empty bench for the rest of the lesson.” She nodded in acquiescence. “Get your arse up….Aesop,” she said wittily. “Ohh….” he moaned as he arose, and walked towards the back of the room. Arse Up Aesop’s cause of derrière discomfort was immediately obvious, since six stripes adorned an aching arse, “….Ahhh,” he added as he sat down again. Then he took the vacated place next to Rock’N’Roll. “AHHH,” he gasped as again the really rough raised ridges did their work.
Then the teacher started to speak. “I’m engaged in a synopsis of syllepsis….” presumably not syphilis….or sepsis? “….no….not a combination of nasties….” clearly her clairvoyance course had been worth every new-pound, “….it’s the repeated use of a word or phrase with a variety of different meanings. By way of an example, one might say someone put his cigar, his teeth and the cat out for the night.” Very witty.
“She’s a VERY good teacher, Ma’am,” he said, “and I learned a lot about another equally obscure item, too….polyptoton, and nothing to do with polyps. The ancient Beatles’ song Please, Please Me is an example, although it’s said to be about oral appreciation…..” she stroked her skirt a second time, “….and so is Who Will Watch The Watchmen….” or quis custodiet ipsos custodes, “….anyway, there wasn’t a massive amount of time left for any contrived and consensual classroom canings, as we’d discussed the previous Sunday morning. So very slowly and surreptitiously, I slid off my shorts, and Rocky raised her hand.
“What is it now?” she asked. “Please, Ma’am,” she replied virtuously, “Wanker Boy Will’s exposed himself.” The Dreadful Griffin pursed her lips. “It’s the third VE Day you’ve celebrated this morning….” she said, so clearly his dorm captain and Ghost had both done the deed, “….Shanks….step out here and strip starkers, facing the class.” Nothing would give him greater pleasure….since this was the whole point of the process. He stepped up to the teacher’s desk, and started to shed his clothes, folding each item carefully.
“Yes, I know,” said Shirley Greene, sourly, “we’ve all had tidiness completely caned into us.”
Several seconds later, he was nice and naked, with his hands behind his head. “Wanker Boy Will’s bearing is firm,” she said didactically, “which is more than can be said for his shaft….” very droll, “….but you’ll note there are no knobbly knees knocking, no willy wavering wildly in an abortive attempt to impress pussy with his prowess. It’s obviously a deep disappointment to everyone expecting to see eight inches of erotic enjoyment, so how and when did you successfully spunk? I assume it was relatively recently?” He nodded. “Yes, Ma’am,” he replied, “it was in The Headmaster’s Corridor, immediately prior to my Explanation. I’d been edging endlessly, however matters….well, came to a conclusion when my scrotum was stretched by an innocent young Lady.”
There was loud laughter. “Was she, by any chance, Pussy Galore?” she asked. “Yes, Ma’am,” he admitted, his ears burning. “She’s fourteen going on forty….” his point precisely, “….and one of Shagger’s Forward Fornication floozies, if I recall rightly?” He nodded. “Yes, Ma’am,” he agreed, “however, I was asked afterwards by Wear And Tear to do their dishonours.” There were several gasps. “So success in every packet,” she mused, “turn around, and for a consolation prize you can let everyone Ogle Obviously Over your tanned tush….” he did so, “….a particularly pert and punishable posterior….” the standard sentiment, “….and what seem to be six SERIOUS stripes. Have you had The Big One, bad boy? Bend over, and let the class see them more easily.”
He assumed the Position. “Yes, Ma’am,” he replied, “six standard strokes for my Explanation, plus the same again for Exposure and Stroking At Slits so shamelessly. As for the subsequent spurting, it wasn’t actually witnessed, so The Headmaster graciously agreed to waive the whacks.” She grinned. “You were let off lightly,” she said, “I’d have caned you….” doubtless she would, “….however it wasn’t my decision. You definitely deserve another dozen due….” oops, “….six for lamentable Lateness, and for Exposure again. However, your tanned tush has already taken a sinful sixdeen in addition to any previous posterior punishments, and this isn’t a Caning Contest….” to see who could take the most whacks without crying. He’d never wanted to be a contestant, but maybe he might now be?
“As you know, they’re on Wednesday evenings in The Canteen,” she said, “so you’ve your last chance saloon next week.” He’d bear it in mind….or should it be bare it?
“….the class has already enjoyed two value-for-money Villains Exposures, so we won’t worry with another one for now….” really rather a relief, “….however anyone who fancies the free feel of a flogged fanny should step out and form a line. Spread your legs, and since you’re wearing Naccatape, you can be a balls bulb boy for anyone who wishes.”
“Amazingly enough,” he said, “it was the whole class.” She giggled girlishly. “Extreme exhibitionism,” she replied, “so straight up your street.” Fair enough, he agreed.
According to the wall clock, it was 10.03am, and thus almost the close of the lesson. “I haven’t covered nearly as much ground as I’d have liked,” she muttered, “so you’ve missed out on many other elements of eloquence. However, those of you lucky lasses and lads who are taking English language to A-Level next year may hear of them….” he hadn’t, as it happened, since William Wordsworth Weobley wasn’t fussed about such things,
“As you mentioned to me last Friday,” she said, “and I agree Wibbly Wobbly Weobley’s teaching skills are reputed to be somewhat limited.” Which was being charitable.
“….but it’s these continual interruptions….” and the quid pro quo of some sound starkers studs’ swishings….exactly as she enjoyed? “….Wanker Boy Will can report to my study next Sunday afternoon….” he could? “….his Hit List is full to capacity….” so she too had access again to it, even though HE hadn’t, “…. however I was able to squeeze in a second Sunday Special....” Ohh, “….you’re down to do my colleague in crime Françoise Hoare in the morning….” unbelievable, since he’d never expected to have The French Whore, “….I can only hope you’ve sufficient semen, since it’s also two of The Six Sneaks in the morning and evening….” she sniggered slightly, “….let alone a seriously sore seat, since my session will start with your missed dozen due….” Oops, “….as for your Detention tomorrow evening….” for arriving in excess of six minutes late, “….your Lines will be: I enjoy errant erections, erotic exposure, extreme exhibitionism and endless edging….and six dozen should suffice….” the bell rang, “….all rise….and screw you soon, Shanks.” She winked once, packed her bag of books, and strutted out of the room.
“So I dressed quickly, Ma’am,” he explained, “and headed quickly away to Lesson 2. Obviously I didn’t want to be late all over again.” Although he’d still been beaten, but at least it was only for obvious Oscitation….inattention. “Going back to the Summer Balls,” she said, “were you escorting anyone there this evening?” He shook his head. “No, Ma’am,” he admitted, “I’d hoped for one or other of Shanks’ Ponies. However with their sudden popularity, they’d already all made other arrangements.”
She smiled slightly. “I may have a solution,” she said, “and subsequent sex, in the shape of The Full Twins….” really? “….their consort was to have been a Cunt Casanova…. the Cock O’ the North….” Ohh, “….alas the silly sod was practicing with his high heels yesterday afternoon, and twisted his ankle. As a result he’s taking Umbrage….” laid up in dorm U, “….and can’t walk at all….” she paused, “….you’re aware Alexander Gordon has an eight inch male member….” another reason for his nickname, “….so with your similar shaft, they were wondering whether you’d step in as succedaneum? Or a substitute. “I’d be honoured, Ma’am,” he said. “Excellent,” she said, “I told them it was almost certainly a Yes, with quality cute cunts of their calibre, and a Bi-some threesome to follow….” YESS, “….they’ll want ALL your wanking wherewithal, since they insist on having their fellas….well, full and frustrated before fucking….” she paused again, “….you were once an obvious oralophobe and associated analophobe. Are you sure you don’t mind lovingly licking their adorable arses?”
He shook his head. “No, Ma’am,” he said, “I’ve seen the light….” or not, in this case, “….and I’m happy to help with their hineys.” She nodded. “I’ll assure them of your best anal attention,” she said, “and they can collect you from the Detention classrooms at about seven o’clock….” she paused, and stared at the wall clock, which read 5.17pm, “….sit down, and help yourself to some dinner. I asked Pet It to prepare a second helpful of the main course and put in the oven, prior to your arrival. It’ll save you some time in The Canteen, and then you can tell me something of what happened between you and The Boot Boy.”
He strutted to the kitchenette, and extracted the offending object by means of his napkin. Then he returned to the table, and set it down. “I’d prefer to stand, Ma’am,” he said, “since with your nasty nine, and also Mr Alixander Fall’s an hour previously, it’s basically been The Big One.” She nodded. “I understand,” she agreed amiably, “so simply shift the second chair. Then you can point your penis at me provocatively.” He smiled, and started his story. It would essentially be a sentence or two at a time until he finished his food.
Boyd Booth
pugnaculis tabernus
Big Ben was striking for 7am when he stood outside study 20 on Level 4. He nerved himself for a rough ride and opened the door, in accordance with fagging protocol. Oops….since his fearsome fagmaster wasn’t simply a Superior Sir, but Mr Whippy, albeit not an old-fashioned brand of ice-cream. The Whipmaster wherewithal was one of black leather, with a black peeked hat and black hobnail boots. His black-buttoned leather tunic was wide open, although he wore a black tie with no shirt. But the pièce de résistance was surely the pair of long black leather trousers, which came complete with a cut-out for the crotch.
“I’m interested in your take of the uniform, Wanker Boy Will,” she said, “since I’d have added a bit about a second one at the rear, revealing a particularly pert posterior….over which it was almost impossible not to Ogle Obviously. But I suppose it takes one to know one?” Indeed so.
“Welcome to The Boot Inn, bad boy,” he said, “as it’s known….” he hadn’t heard, “….I honestly hadn’t noticed the fagging hour upon us. But you know what they say about tempus fugit….” or Time Flies….but with the caveat of Normally Only When You’re Having Fun, “….but I’ve been Putting The Boot In….as per my Latin logo.” He gestured towards the floor, where a pink figure was writhing in apparent agony, clutching its crotch. Slowly, it struggled to its feet, using a chair for assistance.
“T..Thanks for the session, Sir….huhh,” said Isaac Victor Poisson, as he collected his clothes from the study table, “I’ll….huhh….go as I am….huhh….since my breakfast will be waiting in my study….ohh,” he added as his posterior was patted patronizingly. “I like plums pain perverts, Poison Ivy,” said The Whipmaster, “anytime you want your bollocks bashed about a bit, just let me know.” The other winked once. As he retreated towards the door, it was obvious how the ill-treatment had also been extended to his back and bottom, which were completely covered with welts.
“You’ll recall he’s a sixdy-sixdy switch, Shanks….” six dozen to the gross, or even-steven, “….and a gay guy. I’m not even a bi boy, and don’t do anal as such. However, I was able to accommodate his naughty needs by doing a dildo up his derrière. It doesn’t do much for me….apart from Put-You-In-Your-Place punishment.” He recalled how he prefect’s pedigree had been from dorm 6D, as one of The Six DemeanErs….which certainly showed.
“I’ve watched your whacks in class often enough over the years, Wanker Boy Will,” he continued, “and always had a hankering to hit your hiney….your particularly pert and punishable posterior….” somewhat similar to his own? “….I’d hoped we might mutually manage something during Private Study, but you never responded to any of my overt overtures….” he’d never noticed, “….I’m afraid we Dominant dolts aren’t always noted for our ability to pick up on subtle signals. Maybe I should simply suggested some Knacky Whacky one lunchtime….” or not, since it was a term he’d not heard previously….
“Really?” she asked. “No, Ma’am,” he muttered, “I must have led a sheltered life.” She shrugged. “Shagger will show you tomorrow,” she said, “after your restoration, if you ask him nicely. It’s one of his favourite forms of fetish between two bad boys….and it’s fairly self-explanatory.” He knew all about Knacky Smacky, so this should be swishing not spanking?
“….however what’s done is done….” or not, “….so when The Green Goddess was asking around for Senior Swaps, it seemed to be my big chance….” he smiled, “….so this way I get to give you a good going over, without any discomfort on my part….” but what about the quid pro quo? “….at least, not from you. But I’ll pay for my pleasure presently.”
“He certainly shall,” she said with feeling, “since he’ll be suffering seriously as a Dell Boy on Friday evening. I shall string him up by his scrotum, and whip him well….wearing nothing but his black boots. My own uniform will be his special treat.” Again, he wasn’t about to ask.
“Sometimes I have some sympathy for sodding Shagger,” he mused, “a whole year you’ve kept him paying his penance, for something you could easily have sorted out yourself….” Oops, “….if you’d made your peace sooner, your Private Study slot could have been available for many more of us Doms wanting to beat his neat little bottom….” his ears burned, “….at least I have him booked for a short session next week. But as for you, it’s time for your Start-As-You-Mean-To-Go-On beating. Get those Knackerpants off and bend over, nice and tight.” He folded them neatly to the floor, and assumed the Position.
SWISHHHHTHWACKKKKK SWISHHHHTHWACKKKKK
“OOOO..HOOO….TWO, thank you, SIR,” he gasped at the sudden serious stings, and jumping up slightly. “Did I forget to mention they’d be staccato style?” he asked rhetorically, “anyway, it’s one more for Rising without permission….” his waist wiggled in an abortive effort to escape the posterior pain, “….and another onto your beat sheet for Incitement.”
SWISHHHHTHWACKKKKK SWISHHHHTHWACKKKKK
“YEOWWW..OWWW….FOUR, thank you, SIR,” he gasped. “I’m an absolute expert with the cane, Shanks….” he’d second the suggestion, “….with your Farewell Foursome to follow, I daresay I could get you up to a dozen due without difficulty….” doubtless, “….so I’ll be generous and offer an alternative. I’m asking you to accept a boot in the balls, the same as Poison Ivy. If you strip starkers for a shower….with some suffering, we’ll waive all the whacks.” Then the study door opened, and the junior fag entered, and they both glanced up at the clock.
“It’s twelve past seven, Not Gay,” he said, “so in accordance with my Lateness regime, it’s six strokes onto your beat sheet….” thus one whack for each two minutes, “….I’m busy with Wanker Boy Will, so I’ll dish your discipline this afternoon. For now, get going on my breakfast, bad boy.” The younger year nodded. “I’m so sorry, Sir,” he said with a smirk, “please hit me hard, Sir….I know I need it.” He held his hiney, and ambled away to the kitchenette. “I’m another plums pain pervert, Sir,” he said, adopting the Position For Pain, “so please boot my balls, Sir.” WHUMPP “….URGHHH,” he moaned, as he too fell to the floor.
“When I’d stopped whooping, and writhing around in abject agony,” he said, “I crawled into the shower room. I’d thought it might be a punitive cold shower, but it was the opposite.”
Slowly, he stood up inside the cubicle, and The Boot Boy turned on the tap. “I’ve bested and busted your bollocks,” he said, “and now I shall baste and blast them.” Oh, dear….as the temperature was turned up, and the setting shifted to the strongest jet. “AHHH….AHHH,” he gasped, “me balls….AYEEEEE….me balls.” There was simply a snigger. “I’ll stop shortly if you’ll agree to lovingly lick my prick, to show some Superiority, Shanks,” he said, “the same as we all did on Autumn Arrival Afternoon for our dorm captains last year.”
“Which he eventually did,” he confirmed, “although it was all absolute agony, and seemed like forever before it finally finished. As for the licking, it was a lot like Rick The Prick. Then he graciously allowed me to complete my shower. The rest of my session was spent in cleaning it completely….in the altogether, obviously. I was essentially a naked slave.”
Big Ben was striking for 8am when he was called back into the main study. There was no sign of the junior fag, so presumably he’d been dismissed for the duration? “Thank you….Will,” he said, “you’ve done well.” Unexpectedly, he offered his hand, and they shook, “….you can get dressed and go whenever you wish.” It seemed they were now equals, at least until he put on his pink uniform again. “You’re welcome….Boyd,” he replied, “shower cleaning does keep you humble….something it seems Sexy Sammy said so often to sodding Shagger.”
The other smiled slightly. “I heard the story, too,” he replied, “but it seems he’s going to make Samantha Terrier’s acquaintance again next Autumn….” and her captivating Celtic cunt, “….assuming he’s passed his A-Levels.” Which alas applied to them all. “It may be markedly more,” he mused, “by bonking both The Terror Twins. Hell….I’ve never even had a Bi-some threesome.”
“At least I’ve been able to address this defect in your education,” she said, “since it’ll be your first foray with two fuckable floozies tomorrow evening, following the Summer Balls.” He smiled. “I’m most grateful, Ma’am,” he muttered.
“Perhaps you could tell me about your junior fag, Boyd….?” he asked, since Questions weren’t currently caneable, “….he seemed quite enthusiastic about being beaten this afternoon.” The other shrugged. “His name’s Arbuthnot Fotheringay,” he explained, “which is why he’s Not Gay….” so to speak, “….he’s late most mornings, probably on purpose, since he’s simply a subbie. He’s currently in The Little Zer♂s of dorm 3Z. He’s offered often enough to take my toe to his testicles, but it wouldn’t be properly professional. However I’ll give him the boot….when I’ve given him the boot on Departure Day, and isn’t officially my fag any more.” Very witty. “It’s not going to be a good day,” he said, “since I’m starting with an Explanation....but at least it’s not far until Friday.”
The other grinned. “I agree with you there,” he said, “since it’s happened to me often enough over the years. But following your rustication, I took out some insurance, and volunteered for an Apocryphal Scholar Saturday. Frankly, I didn’t want Terrence looking too closely for another candidate….most especially in my general direction.” He dressed quickly. “I understand there were several prefects who took the same tack, Sir,” he said, “starting with Richard Sharp and Shirley Greene.” Then he headed to the door, and stepped outside into the gloomy corridor. It would be breakfast in The Canteen, probably punctuated by any number of nax and nix, all enthusiastically demanding their dues. It was, he supposed, a kind of fame….or infamy.
“Which just about covers it, Ma’am,” he said. “Thanks for sharing, Shanks,” she replied, “and turning now towards another matter, I’m interested to know whether you’ve considered Summer School at The Styx? We’ll be eligible as sometime scholars.” He shrugged. “Are we able to attend as previous prefects?” he asked. “Apparently so,” she replied, “and most Dominant dolts do. However, I understand it’s equally fun to play In The Pink. Then one can revisit the rattan, and source some school style stick and swishing sessions.” A week ago there’d have been no contest, but now he could see its attractions.
“I’ll have to give it some thought, Ma’am,” he said. He’d have to ask about HER intentions, but it would wait a while….when he wouldn’t be whacked. He stared up at the wall clock, and unbelievably it was now 5.34pm. “It’s your final fagging for tomorrow morning,” she said, “so report here at the usual time. I’ll completely clear your beat sheet, with the addition of your Farewell Foursome.” Thanks another bunch. “Yes, Ma’am,” he said, “I ought to go, if you don’t mind, since I’d like to check on the Supervisors this evening.” She waved him away. “You can keep the high heels and bowtie,” she said, “since you’ll need them for the Summer Balls. We may meet….although you might not recognise me….” he suspected skulduggery, “….but if not, enjoy yourself….followed by your fucking fun with Sinful and Eyeful.” He’d definitely Do His Best….DOB DOB DOB, as the boy scouts used to say.
He pocketed his bowtie, replaced his Short Shirt and conventional tie, before strutting out of the study. Was this wise, he wondered whilst he walked along the gloomy corridor? His prefect peer had already come a cropper, and it would be such a shame to blow his own chances. He’d simply have to be careful….especially with lively dances. Maybe he might give the jive a miss? Then he reached the Level 5 landing again, and started gingerly down the empty echoing stone steps. There was a knack, standing slightly sideways for safety. Finally, after listening to whacks wafting on the wind, he reached the base.
Then it was into the first of the long, dark cold corridors towards the assembly hall. Big Ben was striking for 5.45pm when he reached the main notice board, which was deserted. However inside the hall it was a hive of activity, as the huge area was prepared for the erotic events of the evening. Carefully, he read through the list.
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