Restoration Friday
It was midmorning break at St Stricktlands School, when the rusticated prefect William Shanks was walking quickly towards the Teaching wings. Obviously he wouldn’t run, since this was a cardinal and caneable crime. Hell….he’d been caught out often enough during his younger years. With a little luck, Lesson 3 would be his last such before restoration? Except, his memory prompted, he’d another dratted Detention to do this evening.
Anyway, according to his special timetable, it would be Biology. Festina Lente, as Basil Sileas Crabbe was so fond of saying. It was also his study Latin logo….meaning More Haste Less Speed. Despite being caned in a corridor, the clock was still ticking. Thus the sinfully swished scholar ended up even later for their next lesson. Several minutes later, he reached his destination.
Room 202
He stepped inside, noting the time to be 11.14am, as according to the wall clock. He’d left it quite tight, in order to discourage yet more deviant damsels and Dominant dolts from demanding their dues. They were the ones who’d already knackered him into submission, and had him sign a Stretch Slave Sheet. He’d no idea how many of these there’d been during his week of rustication, but it was a LOT, with new signatures each day.
“Over here, Wanker Boy Will,” called out a somewhat soft sensual soprano, and he glanced around the room. It was The Green Goddess, seated with sodding Shagger, so he padded towards them. Both were wearing only pink Short Shirts, like him. “We weren’t expecting you,” she said, as he set down his bag of books, “but please do join us, if you wish. I’m afraid it’ll be some flogging fireworks, since this is one of the last lessons in this particular Prefects Placement Programme. It’s been worse whackings each week, Will….” in one way he hadn’t huge sympathy, since with Curricular Correction Classes they’d signed themselves up for this suffering, “….so I strongly suspect you’ll be somewhere in the firing line.”
He shivered slightly. “I’ll stay standing until Silage arrives….Shirley….” he said, omitting any salutation since they were presently equals. It had been a different matter earlier, when he’d still been her de facto senior fag, “….in addition to your Farewell Foursome….” and all the others. “….I was also caned in class during Lessons 1 and 2….ohh….ohh,” he added as she stroked his stripes.
There was a sudden silence, and everyone else stood similarly as Silage strode inside, seemingly stern. “Do sit down,” he said, “those of you who feel able.” He gritted his teeth. “Ahh,” he gasped as his raw rear reacted to the really rough raised ridges. They were always acutely uncomfortable, but worse because his beaten bottom was bare. Needless to say, the same sentiment was shared all around the room.
The teacher set down his bag of books onto the desk, and turned around. “In addition to my two favourite felons,” he continued, “we have Wanker Boy Will with us this morning….” there was loud laughter at his expense, “….ordinarily I would wait until the final week of the Summer Term to do this, but he can tell us today all about BCNU beatings….” oh, dear, “….however first of all, it’s time to take sodding Shagger to task….” he flexed a cane between his fingers, “….frankly, I’ve had it up to here with him. He’s far too big for his non-existent boots, and needs some proper Put-You-In-Your-Place punishment….” he pointed it towards their bench, and his heart thumped wildly, although hopefully it wouldn’t be him having the hits just yet? “….step out, Shagger, since it’s high time you met my So-Sorry-Sir-Ma’am-Malacca-model….” which sounded like a lovely Lady from a fashion magazine, “….Greene….do feel free to Lay Down The Law.”
He was under no illusions about his immediate future….although it wouldn’t have made much difference at which bench he’d sat. It would be types of tool teasing….stroking his shaft, and softly squeezing his scrotum. Then at some stage, she’d Shop him for a fictional infraction.
He watched whilst Shagger slowly sauntered out to the front, and stood by the desk with what was almost a swagger. Probably, he was playing to the gallery, but it certainly took some nerve? “I’m well aware of your private and impertinent nomenclature for me,” said the teacher, his face one of thunder, “I believe it’s BSc….standing for Bloody Sileas Crabbe….” there was more muted mirth, doubtless in case he turned on them, too? “….are you a Cocky Little Blighter?” Too true. “Yes, Sir,” he agreed, “and one which should be taken down. Prolonged and painful posterior punishment puts me properly in my place, Sir.”
So he was almost Asking for it. “I can only agree, bad boy,” he said with good humour, “having huge helpings of humbling and humiliation at my hands….” which wouldn’t work, since he was such an incorrigible exhibitionist, “….we’ll say some serious starkers swishing….with six strokes, simply for starters. Remove your Short Shirt, and bend over, bad boy. You should state one of the Standard Subbie Swishing Sentiments after each stroke.” Doubtless he’d heard all of them on occasion over the years, but not collated like this.
SWISHHTHWACKK
“ONE, so sorry, SIR….” he said, claiming canees’ privilege. He stayed silent, apart from some suitable salutation, an affirmation of appreciation and the cut count, “….I deeply desire derrière discipline, Sir.”
SWISHHTHWACK
“OOO….TWO, so sorry, Sir,” he gasped, “bad boys’ bare bottoms are best beaten, Sir.”
SWISHHTHWACK
“YEEE….THREE, so sorry, SIR,” he yelped, “stroke my stripes with the stick to show some Superiority, Sir….ohh,” he added as this was done. He could see sodding Shagger’s face of pain, and stared into his eyes along with everyone else. It was with some Schadenfreude, or The Enjoyment Of Another’s Misfortune, something with which St Sticks suffered in spades.
SWISHHTHWACK
“YAROO….FOUR, so sorry, SIR,” he gasped, “I’m a wanker boy which wants the whacks, Sir.” This time there were several sniggers from the sinful sluts….and studs. But sodding Shagger HAD been one of the six wankers along with him the previous year.
SWISHHTHWACK
“YIKES….FIVE, so sorry, SIR,” he gasped, “I relish the rattan, and a really raw rear.”
SWISHHTHWACK
“YEOWW….SIX , so sorry, SIR,” he gasped, “I constantly crave continual caning correction in class, Sir.” There was a round of applause from the appreciative audience. “Have I succeeded in swishing any of the naughtiness out of you, bad boy?” Silage demanded. “No, Sir,” he replied, “so I suggest a second six, staccato style in pairs….only hit my hurting hiney harder….ohh,” he added as the stick stroked his seat again.
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“YI..HI….EIGHT….a straight eight, so sorry, SIR.” he gasped with one of the Hurting Hellos. “Ohh,” he whispered as The Green Goddess grasped his gonads, and squeezed his scrotum.
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“YEEE..HAAA….a total of ten, so sorry, SIR,” he gasped with the Wild West Words. He recalled how Richard Sharp was always one to use them whilst being beaten. “Uhh….uhh,” he whispered whilst his willy was wanked worthlessly.
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“Yayy..HEYY….TWELVE….a dozen due, so sorry, SIR,” he gasped with the second, “thank you for a thoroughly therapeutic thrashing….huhh….SIR, I’ve shot some semen, Sir.” The teacher nodded knowingly, with the expression of a good job well done. “Stand up, Shagger,” he ordered, “and let’s have a little look.” He duly did so, with a slightly smug smile which suggested he hadn’t been humbled by half.
A quick glance around the room revealed any number of fawning floozies, but sure enough he WAS leaking liquid. “It’s seven inches of circumcised sin, Shagger,” he said, “to say you’ve failed an erection inspection is somewhat of an understatement….” there was more mirth, “….it will be further flogging….and this time, the class can inspect your neat little bottom being beaten. As always, it’s simply Asking for the cane.” So Shagger had been told often enough. Apparently he had a mythical collection for whenever it was complimented like this….thus another two dollars into the pot.
Perhaps his own whacks would be worth watching by the wanton wicked wenches? Also, his own eight inches of erotic enjoyment should surely top his tool? But back on Planet Penis where his willy was wavering, from previous experience he should soon be Shopped for something? His prefect peer turned around to form the angle, and there were nine neat stripes, all equally spaced. BSc was GOOD, he agreed.
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“Yaroooo..OOOO..HOOO….THIRDEEN so sorry, SIR….” formerly a frightful fifteen, “….thank you so much, Sir. I know I needed it for Being Bothered By Beating.” There were giggles from the guilty girls. “Stand up and face the class again, Shagger,” he said, “then tell me what we should do now?” He duly did so, with his hands behind his head. “Please, Sir,” he replied, “I should be knackered naked next, as necessary. There are three of The Six Nasties in this class, so I’m sure my not-so firm friends Roald, and the two Godfreys would like to show me some Superiority….” so was he, “….and since I signed their stretch slave sheets during my own rustication, they can demand their dues. Alternatively, since I’m wearing Naccatape, I can be a balls bulb boy….BEEP BEEP.”
The teacher gestured with the cane. “Gould, Fearing and Roth should step out,” he ordered, as three pink figures arose from their benches. Then they swaggered towards the desk, all smiling widely as though Christmas had….well, cum early this year. “Uhh….uhh,” he moaned as Shirley Greene continued to stimulate his shaft. “Did you have something to say, Shanks?” asked the teacher. “Uhhh….no, Sir….uhhh,” he replied, “it’s simply a certain stiffness, Sir.” There was loud laughter, although it was likely there were several other studs in a similarly sordid situation.
“We’ll have Rolled Gold for the first foray,” said Silage, “whilst The Gods Themselves hold his arms. Spread your legs wide, Shagger.” He did so with a second slight smile….and a straining shaft which indicated he was looking forward to all these indignities immensely. “I may as well record some of this for the purposes of posterity,” said Silage, suddenly brandishing a camera, “proceed, bad boys.”
He watched whilst Shagger’s arms and legs were held hard, and Roald Gould flexed his fingers. “It’ll be a knackering of a nasty nine from me, Sir,” he said, “since he gave us an utterly unfair flogging in dorm 6N a while ago. He did tell us at the time how we might end up in this situation, and I took leave to doubt it. Even now, I’m not sure I understand his motives, but each to his own….” look around, he radioed silently. Can’t you see how Shagger’s successfully Soliciting sluts? Alas, he was clearly another Dominant dolt….just the same as he himself had been only a week previously, “….so here we go.” His heart thumped. “AHHH….” he gasped “….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH…. AHHH….” he continued, “….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….you’re so much my Superior, SIR.”
Finally, he was let loose. “I’d say he took a total of twelve seconds,” said the teacher mildly, “however there’s no harm done….” with any luck, “….now we’ll have The Wrath Of God.” Very witty, and he watched whilst they changed places. “He can be my balls bulb boy,” he said, “except I’ll do so several times, Sir….hopefully this won’t be a problem.” He was careful not to make it quite into a Question, in case it were caneable. “I’m sure it won’t, Roth,” he confirmed, “go ahead and get his gonads good.”
Once again, the prefect was presented for pain. “UGHHH….UGHHH….” he gasped as his scrotum was squashed soundly, the same as an old-fashioned motorcar horn from yesteryear, “….BEEP BEEP,” he added, with the slight smile which was required in such circumstances. It was similar to the swishees’ smirk. “UGHHH….UGHHH….BEEP BEEP,” he repeated, “UGHHH….UGHHH….BEEP BEEP.” Slowly, Shagger straightened a second time, “Finally it’s The Fear Of God,” said Silage as they changed places again. “I shall see if I can stretch some more semen from his sac, Sir,” he said, “since he seems to have so much surplus.”
Which was putting it mildly, although most of it ended up inside the lovely Ladies, rather than falling on the floor. “AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH,” he gasped, as he bent forwards again, “….uhhh….SIR….you ARE stretching some spunk….AHHH….you’re so Superior, SIR….AHHH….uhhh….uhhh.” Slowly, he straightened again, and sure enough there was another line of liquid oozing off its end. “Take a tissue to your tool, bad boy,” said the teacher, handing one to each of them, “whilst the others mop up the mess.”
Then his former frightful fagmistress raised her hand. “What is it, Greene?” he asked. “Please, Sir,” she said, “Shanks has been Languishing Along Lovely Legs, Ogling Obviously Over me, and Leching Longingly Like A Loser.” The first felony was fiction, however the second pair weren’t a million miles awry. “Is this so, Shanks?” he asked. “No, Sir,” he replied hotly, also playing to the gallery, “it’s all complete fabrication, and there’s not a word of truth in it.” He was aware of what these words would cost him. Indeed this was something he’d not done since his time as a new nax, and one of The Little Red Ridinghoods. All new knackers learned the unwritten rule very quickly: Always Admit The Accusation, Even If It Isn’t True. “Indeed,” said Silage sternly, “so Shanks should step out here, whilst Shagger and the others return to their benches.”
At least it meant he wouldn’t be dealt with by the contingent from The six nasties. “Ohh,” he moaned as he arose, and his rear was removed from the really rough raised ridges. “If you please, I’ll stay standing, Sir,” said Shagger as they passed each other. Clearly he wasn’t looking forward to constant contact with a beaten bottom. “Very well,” he growled, “but keep those hands on head out of harm’s way….” he smiled slightly, “…. I daresay The Green Goddess will wish to soothe your stripes….” he turned towards him, “….shed your Short Shirt, Shanks. It will be one whack for each of the charges outlined, but with the dose of discipline duly doubled for a denial. You should know by now the word of an innocent young Lady is always believed implicitly….” even though it was a rogue’s charter, “….have you ever been whacked with a wonderfully whippy Whangee weapon, Wanker Boy Will?” he asked.
“No, Sir,” he replied sulkily, as he folded it neatly onto the desk, “I’ve not yet met the Malacca model.” This was about to change. “As you can see,” he continued didactically, “it’s knobbed nastily at irregular intervals all along its lovely length. The whole class will discover its delights….” there were various gasps, “….but not until next week….” he paused, “….therefore they can enjoy an anticipation of all acute agonies onto an aching arse over the weekend….” wonderful, “….so kindly assume the Position. This may be one of your last classroom canings, so I’ll make it memorable….” it wouldn’t, due to his Detention, however he bent over to be beaten, “….you HAVE been a bit of a bad boy, since there are several sets of stripes to be seen.”
SWISHHHTHWACKKK
“OWW….one, so sorry, SIR,” he gasped, since the stroke had struck a previous strike. Canees’ privilege was already gone for good, at least for this class. “Now is a good time for you to tell everyone about BCNU beatings, bad boy,” he said sternly, as he stared into the sea of faces. There was Schadenfreude to be sure, but coupled with considerable concern.
SWISHHHTHWACKKK
“OOO..TWO, so sorry, SIR,” he gasped, “as you said, Sir, they take place during the final week of the Summer Term, and are specifically for the pupils In The Pink.”
SWISHHHTHWACKKK
“YEEE..THREE, so sorry, SIR,” he yelped, “the abbreviation stands for Bare Canings, No uniform….as indeed I am now.” He saw several nods of sudden understanding.
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“YAROOO..FOUR, so sorry, SIR,” he gasped, “it also stands for Be Seein’ You, which is what such swished scholars say when their caning has been concluded.”
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“YIKES..FIVE, so sorry, SIR,” he gasped, “each teacher is able to administer them entirely as they deem appropriate.” There was a short silence. “If anyone has any Questions,” said Silage, swishing the stick silently, “I’ll be pleased to address them.” Since they’d clearly still be caneable, he doubted there’d be any….and there weren’t.
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“YEOWW..SIX….six of the VERY best, so sorry, SIR,” he gasped. “Stand up, Shanks,” he ordered, “so all the studs and sluts can see what should be a suitably straining shaft.” With a similarly smug smile to Shagger’s, he did so to various gasps from around the room. “I rather recall how your willy used to waver wildly,” the teacher mused, “and knobbly knees knocking, in abortive attempts to impress pussy with your prowess. It seems there’s been a sea change somewhere along the line?” He nodded.
“Yes, Sir,” he agreed, “by kind courtesy of The X-p♂sers and the six X-hibiti♂nists….” of 5X, and also his dearest dorm mates in 6X, “….I’ve always had a propensity to present a pulsing penis, but they’ve taught me how to do it properly, with poise and panache….” there were several sniggers, “….plus personality….” put in his prefect peer, “….shut up, Shagger,” said the teacher without turning, “….so sorry, Sir,” he added. “I think it’s time we temporarily turned our attention towards your testicles,” said Silage, “so we’ll ask for a volunteer from the various virtuous vixens. Hands up anyone, who’d like to help….?” there was flurry of activity, and he counted all twelve hands raised, “….it seems you’re somewhat spoiled for choice, Shanks….so pick one which appeals to your penis.” Was this for real….since never before had the sinful sluts shown such interest?
Then he saw a familiar fetching face. “Please, Sir,” he said, “I’ll have Rocky….err….I mean Roccella-Roland do the honours, Sir. I expect she might have liked to sit with me this morning, but Greene spotted me first.” There was a single smile, and eleven faces of deep disappointment. “Yes indeed, Wanker Boy Will,” she said, “however I wasn’t expecting you. As you see, I’m seated with The Gods Themselves….” she paused, “….who’ve been let off lightly thus far….” she sniffed, “….but the day is young.” So she might yet be able to Lay Down The Law, and Shop them similarly?
“Step out here,” he said, “I understand Shanks was responsible for Loo Roll’s recent change of nickname and Mental Makeover? It seems she’s now Rock’n’Roll, which is a considerable improvement….” he could only agree, “….there’s also the minor matter of how dorm 6S has had the additional epithet appended of Shanks’ P♀nies….” for the next week, anyway, “….the first recorded instance of a dorm adopting a prefect Patron who isn’t a Cunt Casanova. Tell me, are you hoping to….shall we say cement your suspect status with all the six sneaks before the end of term?” He nodded as she approached. “Yes, Sir,” he said, “hopefully it’ll be two….” twats, put in his personal demon, “….Tarts at a time, starting tomorrow evening. I can’t confirm it myself, since I haven’t had access to my study….or Hit List.”
She licked her lips. “I told you we’re all in there and rearing to go, Wanker Boy Will,” she said, “but alas there were already two teachers with prior entries.” Again there were several gasps. “Who are they?” asked Basil Sileas Crabbe. “Please, Sir,” she said, “it’s Ms Deborah Maddon this evening, followed by Mrs Edith Zippy on Saturday morning.” Both Godfreys gave him glares which would have torched toast at twendy paces. It was as well his restoration was imminent, or his nuts wouldn’t be worth knowing. “So it’s Madam Dee and Mississippi,” he mused, “didn’t the latter make you Walk The Plank last week?”
He nodded. “Yes, Sir,” he confirmed, “I had to jump off the top diving board into The Swimming Pool with a 7lb weight tied to my testicles, and swim to the shore….” there was more mirth, “….it’s her practice to pick on prefects past and present…..preferably plums pain perverts.” The teacher smiled. “Have you suffered similarly, Shagger?” he asked. “Yes, Sir,” he replied, “last year, since she also offers the facility out to new nax.” There was even more mirth. “Very well,” he said, “we’ll have Shanks in the Position For Pain.” He put his hands behind back with legs spread. Then he bent both knees, and leant backwards slightly. “He can take the testicle twist first, Sir,” she said, “after which I’ll squeeze his scrotum soundly. Next, he can be my balls bulb boy. Since he’s signed MY Sheet, I’ll demand my dues.” I love you too….as she flexed her fingers.
“Ohh….AHHH….AHHH….” he gasped as his reproductive retort was rotated through two right angles, “….UGHHH..UGHHH….BEEP BEEP….” so what was next? “….AHHH….AHHH….me balls….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….ROCKY….AHHH….AYEEEEE….I am your stretch slave….MA’AM.”
There was a light round of applause. “Another nasty nine….” said Silage, “….don’t bother to stand, since we’ll sign you off with another three for the usual reason….” there was NO chance of him passing an erection inspection, “….would you like me to dish the discipline, Shanks? Or would you prefer the humiliation of having the hits from this wanton wicked wench?” He pursed his lips.
“Please, Sir,” he said finally, “I’ll take them from BOTH of you in turn, so honours will be equal.” There were more gasps, as the teacher handed it over. “Oo..er, Sir,” she said, “it IS nice and knobbly….and must pack a punch. I’m really looking forward to flogging his fanny....do you happen to have one, Shanks? Then I can use it on you again, for your Sex Thrashing.” He shook his head. “I’m so sorry, Ma’am,” he replied.
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“YAROOO..OOOO..HOOO….NINE,” he gasped, since she too was no slouch at the stick, “….a nasty nine, so sorry, MA’AM. Clearly you did well in your General Studies Caning Classes, and I wouldn’t relish being your senior fag next term.” She smiled slightly as she returned the rattan to the teacher. “I can only agree,” he said faintly, with what seemed suspiciously like a look of lust.
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“YEEEEE..HEEEE..EEEEE….THREE, so sorry, SIR,” he yelped, “I know I needed them, Sir. Might I most cordially say Be Seein’ you, SIR, with thanks for ALL my thorough thrashings over the years….if this might make a tanning template.” There were several sniggers. “Replace your Short Shirt,” he said with a smile, “and return to your bench, bad boy. You may stay standing, the same as Shagger. But we mustn’t forget our foremost feloness….” about time, too “….we’ll have The Green Goddess follow for some formal flogging. I expect there are some crimes to confess.”
She shrugged, as he put it on. “Ohh,” she moaned as she arose brandishing a piece of paper, before starting towards the desk. She winked once as they too passed in the aisle. “Please, Sir,” she said, “I admit authorship of this naughty Note.” She handed it to the teacher, who smiled widely. “Which states,” he read out, “Sodding Silage is a beastly big bastard who beats bottoms. When is it my tush’s turn for tanning? It will be three for the Note itself, plus a Disrespectful Reference, various Vulgarities, a caneable Question and one for Soliciting….so a straight eight. After which, we’ll check for naughty nipples….” he glanced up at the clock, which read 11.47am, “….it’s time for Wanker Boy Will and his Guardian Angel to depart. They’ll miss her posterior punishment, which is a pity.”
Such a shame, as he’d have enjoyed some Schadenfreude. Then the other carefully packed his Short Shirt into his bag, and put on a black bowtie. “This should suffice for my prefect’s privileges….Sil,” he said politely, “and I’d like to use this opportunity of thanking you again for such sound stick. In addition to having the humbling and humiliation, I can honestly say it’s been one of your best beatings into the bargain. You once told me of your disappointment at not being able to apply either my Big or Biggest One….” really? “….so I hope this has gone some way to make up for it. I can certainly say you’re a superbly Superior Sir.”
There was another round of applause at this statement of sincerity. “You’re entirely welcome, Shagger,” he said, with a slight bow, “and the same sentiment goes for Shanks.” He nodded. “Yes, Sir,” he agreed, ruefully, “it was good for me….and so has the whole week of rustication. I’ve learned a lot about life….and made many new firm friends.” There was a third round of applause, even as Louise Roccella-Roland mouthed him a quick kiss. “By the way, Rocky,” said Shagger, “you can borrow my Whangee weapon for Wanker Boy Will’s Caning For Cunt.”
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