Prize Day – Year LXXXIX
According to the study wall clock it was somehow 8.54am, and he was suddenly very late. Quickly, he signed his name on the side of the completed carton. Being in study 24 on Level 6, his was the final entry of all the gross of prefects. Speedily, he dressed in his basic black uniform, and carried the carton under his arm to the door. But what had been so interesting? Then he too inspected the Calendar entries?
Saucy Harry and cook
7pm (escort to study)
Interesting indeed, since he hadn’t been in touch with either of them for many moons. Now he could understand Mitches’ concern, since it made no sense on the surface, and Sue Sweet had obviously been the same. He closed the study door behind him, and proceeded along the gloomy corridor to the Level 6 landing. Then it was down the empty echoing stone steps all the way to the entrance hall, and into the first of the long, cold corridors. Several minutes later he reached his destination. “Overslept, Shagger?” asked the Assembly Monitor, as he smiled sweetly. “More like overworked, Wendy,” he replied to The Windy City, gesturing towards the carton. “It’s a cross we all bear,” she said sagely, as he mouthed her a quick kiss. “I’d have preferred a poke with you and your Missus,” she muttered as he passed through the double doors.
At least as a prefect he wouldn’t be whacked for Lateness. But why them both….as he stood at the back of the hall, unable to reach any seats. Yes….Wendy Citizen had been one of The Six Bi Babes of dorm 6B last year. He’d certainly screwed her at some stage, but not both together. Alas there was only so much time and possible permutations for poking. The Interrogator was speaking, so it seemed he’d managed to miss the daily devotions….and explainees. Desperately, he attempted to concentrate on what was being said, “….have here a Deposition….” he waved it around, “….handed to me only yesterday by Shagger….with thanks for his belated attendance this morning….” rumbled, “….still, we all know what it can be like after a heavy night….” there were several sniggers from his prefect peers, “….I propose to read it out in full, for the benefit of all concerned….or not.”
On: Felon Flogging Fridays at five
Mesdames et Messieurs - I was recently privileged to have represented the school (together with Ms Ava Frasch, the pretty prefect Shirley Greene, and also our newest Governor, Sir Digby Vaillance) on a trip to St Bodlians School at Rugby. We were able to make a successful Presentation about our august Head of PT’s game of Naccarim. Indeed, their Headmaster has suggested there might be some scope for the start of a future league. This could be taken together with St Templars in Tanningtown, who have already played us once in a Challenge match.
However, I was also pleased to learn all about what they call Felon Flogging Fridays at five. These are particularly public punishments, and offer out an appreciative audience for the agonies onto an aching arse. The modus operandi at St Bowlers is fairly unique. There, the bad boys wear nothing but crimson coloured bowler hats whilst being birched basically bare over the block. The school is currently single sex, but starting in September will also be admitting guilty girls….and they have yet to decide about the hats. I would venture to suggest there is scope for a similar scheme at St Sticks, for studs and sluts. My suggestion is for Sinner Swishing Saturdays at seven. Those felons in the lower 6th form (or perhaps the 5th as well) could be offered an option of deferring or at least delaying Daily Detention. I strongly suspect this might find felons’ favour. This would replace The Headmaster’s extra Detention, following their Explanation after six such. This option could be repeated at nine, although each of the two normally awarded would require a separate session. Explainees might take the middle course of one extra Detention and one Birching, depending upon the time of term, and indeed whether they, ‘felt lucky.’
“It is at this juncture,” he said, “I should draw attention to interesting phrase learned from St Bowlers, not connected as such to the point of this Deposition, but nevertheless of interest. It is ‘Three for the Thrill of a Thrashing,’ following a flogging. I can commend its immediate introduction by all prefects and Staff, and abbreviated on beat sheets to TTT….” there were murmurs of obvious approval from all around him, “….but let us return to the matter in hand.”
I cordially suggest an informal approach to St Templars, in order to ascertain whether they too might be interested in its adoption. On a purely practical matter, I noted how the Birching Block from Room 101 in The Extension had already been moved to the Podium for the annual Summer Balls….for use with la Volta. It occurred to me it might be prudent to leave it in place permanently, so I took the liberty of suggesting same to The Headmaster during the evening.
He waved negligently towards the offending object, sitting almost innocently by the black metal spiral staircase which led to the Undercroft. As an aspiring Ampère, it had been highly humbling and humiliating. He’d stood on the top step, and been launched into space by Section Officer Maggie Riffkin. The Riffraff had grabbed his gonads good, as he’d been treated to a twirl, with a sound smack on his seat upon landing. It was almost akin to Pick-Me-Up and Smack-Me-Down. This was a free facility from his Mother which he’d always enjoyed when tiny. Needless to say, he’d always been starkers, and somehow it was so scarily scrumptious….although she’d never squeezed his scrotum.
Mrs Margaret Whapshott, our Chair of Governors, has often stated how she considers the cane too good for me. Therefore she might agree a beating by the birch would be beneficial for my bottom. During my period as prefect, I have been privileged to enjoy a Saturday morning sojourn with The Smith Sisters. Taken together, their combined currencies are some sinful sixdeen strokes (formerly a straight eighteen). I am sure they would be highly happy to hit my hiney hard on the Podium, rather than in the sanctity of a study. In this vein it occurs to me how Sinner Swishing Saturdays at seven should be standardized and similarly set….at the same suffering as The Big One. My colleague in crime Hercules Poke, prefect, has advised how he too would be pleased to present his posterior for public punishment, and for the same sins. He hails from dorm 6X, so as one of The Six X-hibitionists last year, this may not be a surprise. I commend the matter to all the Governors, and beg to remain, yours faithfully, David Shagton, prefect
“I have spoken at some length to The Headmaster of St Templars School,” he said, “Dr Dionysius Ichabod Yeo….” he smiled slightly, “….who I understand is known as Dr Yeow….” there were several sniggers from the ranks of the prefects, “….but I do digress. Anyway, the upshot is they too will be adopting the Block for the beneficial beating of the Babes and Boys In Blue, plus the Pupils-In-The-Pink. We both feel this will go a long way towards healing the bitter divorce between the two schools almost ninety years ago….” he paused, “….when they were unable to reconcile regular receipt of the rattan on the rear, as opposed to the traditional tawse. These will commence in the Autumn. However, we have the occasion of Prize Day, which too is a Saturday. So as Shagger has suggested, we will supply some sample sessions, after awarding the prizes for this year. His fanny will be the first to feel a formal flogging over the Block, and Poke Her will be third. However the second such sinner will be William Shanks, our recently restored prefect….” there were several gasps as he glanced towards him. He didn’t appear to be at all fazed, so presumably he’d already been advised? “….who will also provide a demonstration of this decisive derrière discipline. As many of you will know, Wanker Boy Will has been billeted for the past week in dorm 6X. I can confirm he has learned a lot from his hosts….” there was more mirth from around him, “….and can now confidently claim to be another incorrigible exhibitionist. He too is owed some suitable Sex Thrashings….” the two teachers who’d been on his Hit List, for yesterday evening and this morning, “….together with an amount of accrued agonies outstanding from his final Detention, prior to his restoration.”
The Interrogator was doing ever so well, since this wasn’t his usual dreadfully dull and disinterested delivery. Possibly HE hadn’t screwed anyone this morning, and hence hadn’t a hurting hiney? However this was unlikely, since he was a Womanizer of the worst kind. These treats were reserved for special occasions, such as the Old Hundred Bum-up Challenge….so perhaps this was the reason? Maybe all it proved was he could do so when he wanted?
He realized The Headmaster was still speaking, “….several standard entertainments will be offered out as usual for all our invitees. These will include the morning demonstrations of discipline by the prefects in the Public Playground Pillories. There will also be two-hourly tours around the school by the teachers, starting at the main entrance hall every hour until five of the clock, and terminating here….” trust Terrence to remove even this apostrophe, but he WAS a Patron of PEDANT, the Perfect English Development Association National Trust, “….the Absolution Afternoon for Orwell, Harry Herbert of dorm 6W will take place at two, when he will receive his just rewards. A Statement of Sin for all the Affronted Ladies will be available later for inspection on the main notice board. However this year there will be another two new facilities. The first will be the opportunity for sometime scholars-with-scrotums to Walk The Plank. These will be offered by Mrs Edith Zippy, obviously in The Swimming Pool. Secondly, we will be opening Farmyard Fun and Frolics for the final time this term. It will provide an opportunity for prefects, plus parents and other invitees, to play prime porker, salutary sow….or indeed Farmer. I must remind all younger years how The Home Farm is strictly out-of-bounds, since several of the attractions are absolutely adults only….” quite so, having sampled several of them himself, “….all rise.”
The school duly did so, and he retreated to the double doors for a quick getaway. Then it was back into the long, dark cold corridors whilst clutching his prize. Finally, he reached the entrance hall for the Administration wing, and started up the first flight. “Huhh,” he huffed as he reached the Level 1 landing, and continued into The Headmaster’s corridor. Having been first out after assembly, all the explainees had yet to arrive.
Iain Terrence Hayter, M.A. (Oxon)
Headmaster
Susan Sweet
The green overhead warning light wasn’t illuminated, so he knocked. “Entarrrr,” he heard, so he opened the door and stepped inside. “Good morning, Sue….” he said as he approached her desk, Ogling Obviously Over her in the process. She wore her Tanningtown style white leather business suit, together with the horn-rimmed glasses. These she’d finally confessed were simply for effect, “….I bring another gift for the Record Rooms Registrars, with my love and best swishes. Hopefully though, there aren’t too many more.” He set it down onto her desk, and she stared at it. “Brownie Babes,” she mused, “so there’s a further four or five to follow. Since this is the third time you’ve done this chore, I expect you realize it takes longer with the older years.…” he did, “….since statistically speaking, you’ve flogged many more fannies. However, nobody’s forcing you to comment upon canings. It merely gives you the option of doing so.”
All right, he understood. “I do have one request of you, Sue….” he said, and she licked her lips, “….a printable one….” she seemed slightly put out, “….it’s always the sodding same at this time of year,” she grumbled, “I’ve groomed so many studs successfully, and then they….well, up Styx….” which was one way of putting it, “….and are away to pastures new.” He attempted to marshal his thoughts from those of sex and screwing. “I shan’t forget you, Sue,” he said, “and as we discussed yesterday, I’m hoping to attend Summer School….here’s the application form, duly signed.” Together, they inspected it.
St Stricklands Summer School – Year LXXXIX
As previous prefect from Year LXXXIX or other sometime scholar (detail) n/a
I wish to apply for a place as follows for week: 5 (last in August)
I propose to play: Prefect (basic black uniform) OR
In The Pink, in dorm 6 X
(Short Shirt for Detentions and most lessons)
I am aware how agonies may be applied at all times, and fully indemnify the school against loss, damage or injury however caused. The fee NP300:00 (432 0s 0d) per week (including full board and beatings) must be paid prior to commencement of the facility.
signed David Shagton
“So you fancy a fling at being one of the six x-hibi♂nists, Shagger?” she asked, and he nodded, “but why the specific date requirement?” He smiled smugly. “Departure Day will my wedding, Sue,” he replied, as she stood up and hugged him hard. “Congratulations, Shagger,” she said, “presumably with your Missus….?” he nodded again, “….but what’s your request, if it isn’t the Other?” He took a deep breath. “Apparently I’m screwing my former driving examiner this evening….?” he asked, as she gave a guilty grin, “….a Mrs Harriet Palmer called during the Easter holidays,” she replied, “complaining about having been abandoned for nearly two terms. She said both you and Relay visited her house, for various dirty deeds….” and Rick The Prick too, but no matter, “….so I checked your Cute Cunt Calendar, wrote her into one of the few remaining slots, and called her back. I meant to mention it, but something must have….well, cum up….” probably between five and eight inches long, “….although I didn’t quite understand why she wanted to bring her cook.”
He shrugged. “It’s Cuck, not cook, Sue,” he explained, “her cuckold husband, Dirty Harry….” she interrupted, “now it makes sense, Shagger,” he took back the sentence, “….so the favour is to call her again, and suggest they arrive much earlier, to try out some Farmyard Fun and Frolics. If you’d kindly brief her about what’s on offer, I’ll endeavour to meet her in The Milking Shed around three o’clock. She works Saturday mornings, so you might need to call her at the test centre.” Sue Sweet nodded, ever the efficient School Secretary. “Leave it to me….” she said as the office door opened, and The Headmaster strode inside, “….and I shall enjoy Ogling Obviously Over you on the Block, Shagger.” He grinned. “As will many others, Miss Sweet,” he said, “it promises to be a most entertaining Prize Day. Can you please send in the first explainee?”
He disappeared into his study, and she illuminated the green light. The office door opened again, and a scholar strode inside….with obvious enthusiasm. “Is it Araldite?” she asked, “since there half a dozen of your peers-with-penis In The Pink this morning.” He’d missed the list read out in assembly, but it had most likely been long. “Yes, Ma’am,” he replied, “I’m Height, Harold of dorm 6Z.” One of the so-called CP dorms, whose members craved caning at all costs. “You’re on nine,” she said, “so best be quick, and you can get to Games before the deadline….or you’ll be on Daily Detention….” she sniffed, “although it maketh little difference, as there’s only a few days before the end of term.” He nodded. “I don’t mind being beaten, Ma’am,” he muttered as he hurried off, “but it’s all the Lines which I can manage without.” He took a deep breath and knocked on the study door.
Iain Terrence Hayter, MA (Oxon)
Quam celerrime
As Quickly As Possible, read the Latin logo. “Entarrrr,” called out the villain’s voice he knew so well. “I’ll just turn on the intercom, Shagger,” said Sue Sweet as he disappeared inside. “Do you have any Explanation for your conduct, bad boy?” asked The Headmaster. “No, Sir,” he replied, “but I do have an impertinent request.” He had a sneaking suspicion of what this might be? “Knackerpants down and bend over,” he said, “and you can tell me whist your tush is tanned. It will the standard six for starters, staccato style in threes, since time is short.”
Swishhhhhthwackkkk Swishhhhhthwackkkk Swishhhhhthwackkkk
“Yeee..HEEE..EEEE….THREE, thank you, SIR,” he yelped. Such second and subsequent strokes stung much more, since they landed on the same spot. The Pirate’s hits had ALL been hard, so it hadn’t made much difference. “I’d like to indent for a slot at the Sinner Swishings this evening, Sir,” he said, “so I can show off my stripes afterwards.” He nodded. “Exactly as I thought,” he said.
Swishhhhhthwackkkk Swishhhhhthwackkkk Swishhhhhthwackkkk
“Yarooo..OOO..HOO….SIX, thank you, SIR,” he gasped. “Presumably thus one of The Six Zebras?” he asked, sourly. “Yes, Sir,” he replied. “I will be happy to hit your hiney,” he confirmed, “since the other three felons will be flogged by others. Unless you are a prize-winner....” Sue Sweet interrupted, “….he isn’t, Sir,” she said, “....in which case you may watch the ceremony first….albeit in the altogether. There will be a reserved end-seat for you, on the centre aisle. I will summon all birchees up to The Podium when all the prizes have been awarded, as an encore. You may reclaim your seat, or stand, after you have been birched. Meantime, it will be Three for the Thrill of a Thrashing.”
Swishhhhhthwackkkk Swishhhhhthwackkkk Swishhhhhthwackkkk
“Yeouchh..OUCH..OUCH….NINE, thank you, SIR,” he gasped, “thank you as always for thrashing me thoroughly, since I know I needed I, Sir.” As a simple subbie, this was certainly so. “Do you have anything interesting planned for today, Shagger?” asked The SS. “It starts with a long stint of Discipline Reports, Sue,” he said, sadly. “Sort yourself out, bad boy,” said The Interrogator, “I look forward to your further flogging. Miss Sweet, kindly send in the next explainee. It will be interesting to see whether we have any additional applications.” The study door opened and Harold Height emerged, looking pained but pleased. “I’ll walk with you, bad boy,” he said, as a second explainee entered the office.
Uh..huh….since it was one of The Trouble Triplets. They were all in the Six Punishees, another of the CP dorms. “I’m Tribble, Kynaston of dorm 6P, Ma’am,” she confirmed, “and I was wondering whether The Headmaster might….” she was interrupted, “…..don’t ask, don’t get….” said The SS, “….thanks for the tip, Ma’am. Harold and I were hoping he might be gracious and agree.” Kinnie The Kinks continued towards her destination of doom. They walked away, and the office door closed behind them. As he’d expected, a long line of sinful scholars stretched out. Oops….since he could see his sinful Sister among the Babes and Boys In Blue. “Terrence IS allowing Sinner Swishings, Lyn,” he called out, “since Araldite here will have his hiney hit hard.” She gave him the thumbs-up.
Then they continued quickly along the corridor, with the younger year walking in the classic canees’ gait of guilt. Look At Me, it was saying, I’ve Just Been Caned. “At the risk of Impertinently Imparting Information, Sir,” he said, “I’d just like to thank you once again for the Equestrienne Escaped Slave Session in the Spring Term, Sir. It was most appreciated.” He’d let him off. “There’s another item with which you may be interested,” he replied, “which are the Apocryphal Scholar Saturdays. They’re for prefects playing In The Pink, but alas only occur in the Summer Term….” they reached the Level 1 landing, and started down the empty echoing stone steps, “….based on the old story of when a schoolboy reported to his Headmaster to collect a replacement rattan. But what he said was, ‘Please Sir, my teacher sent me for the cane,’ with the inevitable result. The role-play scenes are predicated around the premise, and you have eighteen hits in all….the same as The Big One.”
There was a slight snigger as they reached the base. “Thank you, Sir,” he replied, “and also for the Sinner Swishing Saturdays. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll have to hurry in order to reach the Games changing rooms on time.” He nodded. “Enjoy….or not,” he said as he waved him away, before continuing in a different direction down the long, dark cold corridors. It would be back to the Prefects’ Study wing, for a stint of soft sarcasm at some sinful scholars’ expense. He’d look in on H2O later.
* * * * * *
He’d had a late lunch in The Canteen, and headed away towards the playground. According to Big Ben it was 2.22pm when he reached his destination, with a small crowd of interested onlookers. Carefully, he read the large notice affixed to the frame.
Public Playground Pillory
The implementation of due diligence discipline with regard to a Statement Of Sin by Orwell, Harry, of dorm 6W will take place here this afternoon at 2.15pm. A full list of Affronted Ladies is available on the main school notice board. Only those designated may apply punishment, however he may be examined freely by all pupils and parents as desired.
This was the official confirmation of how, in addition to his punishment, he could be touched up, groped, knackered and slave stretched. They were all things which had happened in times past when felons had been put into the public pillory. Given the number of younger years present, it was a form of PWEP….Punishment With Extreme Prejudice. The bad boy already endured it once following his Big One, so doubtless he’d get through this second session too. He inspected the hooks which bore the instruments of posterior punishment….the cane, martinet and Tanningtown tawse, and then the heavy hasp with its locking pin.
Hell….he could almost feel his own head and hands on the lower half of the wooden frame. The hinged upper half was already in place over the offered neck and wrists, making much movement impossible. His legs were spread, his ankles had been ironed, and needless to say he was standing starkers. “Hello, Harry,” he said, “if it’s any consolation, this should put you in pole position for the Camera Club next term.” Membership of the slightly suspect after-hours school society was restricted to the prefects….and even then only a few qualified. “Thank you, Sir,” he replied, as Serve You appeared, apparently about to do the deed.
She was simply a stunner, with her severe style of short black hair, which was so reminiscent of Jacqueline Pearce. Her on-screen character of the Supreme Commander of the Terran Federation had featured in Blake’s 7. It was a 1970’s Sci-Fi TV series, which he’d seen several times with his father. As a bonding exercise it had worked wonderfully, when they’d both wanked worthlessly with Servalan. Interesting, since he was sure he hadn’t seen her name on the long list of Affronted Ladies? He watched whilst she picked up the French flogger….Thwackk “….Ahhh….” he gasped as the seven strands of sheer suffering strafed his shoulders, “….thank you Ma’am, I’m so sorry for my sins.” She smiled, and replaced the flogger onto its hook. “Thank YOU, Harry,” she murmured, “it was a kind thought, asking The SS to add me afterwards….” Ohh, “….I’ll make an entry on your Deviance Diary, so we can have a sex session next term….” she sniggered, “….I don’t mind a bit of role-play….since I’m sure you’d like to shackle Servalan in your study, whilst whipping her well.”
He too would have been happy to help, but at least it was Genuine Jam Tomorrow for the younger year. “Ohh,” they both moaned, as she wiggled her waist whilst walking away. “Stop, guilty girl,” he called out, “bare your bottom and bend over, since it’s a clear case of Incitement.” She flipped up her pleasingly pleated blue skirt, lowered her naughty knicks and assumed the Position.
Swishhhhthwackkk
“One, thank you….Çur,” she said woodenly, claiming canees’ privilege. It entitled her to stay silent, apart from the affirmation of appreciation, and cane count. “Another stroke for mentally misspelling the salutation,” he said, “complete with cedilla….” and the second slut today trying the trick, “….this time I shall hit your hiney harder.”
SWISHHTHWACKKK
“OOH….TWO, thank you, SIR,” she gasped, sounding so much like screwing, “thank you for swishing me so soundly, Sir….I know it was necessary.” He glanced at Harry Herbert Orwell, whose straining shaft saw it similarly. “Servalan Ewell,” he mused, “I enjoyed your company very much last Saturday when The Amaz♀ns were operating Amazonia….” there were several gasps, “….for what was hopefully my very last ever cross-country run at this illustrious educational establishment….” but Never Say Never At St Sticks, even so, “….sort yourself out, and be about your business.” She stood slowly. “Ohh,” she gasped as she lifted her naughty knicks, and smoothed down her skirt. “It was my pleasure, Sir,” she said, giving him a wide wink before walking away a second time.
He’d managed to miss several Affronted Ladies whilst dishing discipline, but there wasn’t any shortage of same. Then Daisy Cheney and Ivy Leek both appeared. Both were wearing Tanningtown style white leather business suits, as befitted their status of retired Registrars, “Hello, Shagger….” said Daisy Chain, “….should you fancy taking another Working Weekend….” or even a week, “….at Bindery House over the holidays, we can offer you a half price discount for sometime scholars.” He nodded. “I’ll….well, bare it in mind, Mesdames,” he said wittily, “since I could always append it onto Summer School….ohh,” he added as they stroked his cheeks, and as always their tender touch was 1000V.
Then The Ivy League picked up the tawse, and moved around the pillory….CRACKK “….OWW,” gasped H2O as it beat his bottom, and she handed it over to Daisy Chain….Crackk “….UGHHH,” as it struck his scrotum squarely, “I’m so sorry for thinking such Inappropriate thoughts about you….uhhh….Mesdames,” he moaned. “Screw you soon, Shagger….” said Ivy Leek, as the tawse was replaced, “….and Harry too, in his turn,” added Daisy Cheney, whilst they walked away. So some more Genuine Jam Tomorrow.
Then The Trouble Triplets all appeared, with obvious intent. “You’re not on the list, guilty girls,” he said sourly, “and anyway, you’re supposed to be serious subbies.” They smiled sweetly, whilst flexing their fingers. “Yes, Sir….” said one….although barring baring their bottoms, he’d no idea which. Their Mother had tattooed identification letters onto their bums at birth, in order to tell them apart, “….we ARE indeed….but we still enjoy knackering nuts with the best of them. Alas, in view of the mêlée after Harry’s Big One, we weren’t able to do so during his previous stint….so now’s our chance.” She walked behind him, and took hold of his testicles. “AHHH….AHHH….AHHH,” he gasped as he was knackered neatly, “AHHH….AYEEEEE….I submit, MA’AM,” he moaned, and a pen was put into his hand.
Uh..huh….so she was Kynaston Tribble, as stated on her Stretch Slave Sheet. “I’ll just demand my dues,” she said, “and then it’s Jinnie’s turn.” Thus Virginia. “AHHH….AHHH….” he gasped as his scrotum was stretched, “AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AYEEEEE….I am your stretch slave, MA’AM.” So one down and two to go. “Will you be birched over the Block later, guilty girl?” he enquired. “Yes, Sir,” she replied, happily, “it’ll really make my day.” So his sinful Sister would probably be the same. He’d leave them to it, since time was passing, and he wouldn’t want to be late for Saucy Harry. “AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….” he heard whilst he walked away, even as Jinnie The Jinx started work. The sounds of a suffering scrotum slowly faded as he left the playground, and began his journey to the Home Farm.
The sun was hot as he finally arrived, and strode through the dusty courtyard. There was no shortage of Farmers….or prime porkers plus salutary sows, so the facility had proved popular.
The Milking Shed
In Lac Veritas
In Milk There Is Truth, he recalled the Latin logo meant. There was the usual Dantean darkness inside. As his eyes adjusted, he could see four sinful studs lined up along one wall….all shackled and ironed. It wasn’t hot, but apart from which, it was clearly hell on earth. They were all unclothed but not hooded, so none were shy flowers. Their necks were loosely noosed, with their shafts nozzled and connected to the milking machinery. Apparently it was specially set for these sessions, and much milder, so they wouldn’t be spunked to sterility. “Uhhh….uhhh,” they moaned intermittently whilst shaking slightly, clearly still under substantial sexual stress.
Two were unknowns, the third Harry Callaghan and….oops, the fourth was his father. Four floozies were staring intently at their better, or rather worse halves. Three were wearing Tanningtown style standard black business suits, which meant they were probably previous prefects. Two were tending a tripod plus camera with which to record the scene for posterity. “Hello….Mum,” he said to the third, however they all turned towards him. “Hello, David,” she replied, “as you can see, your philandering father opted for some Farmyard Fun and Frolics this afternoon….although it’ll certainly cut down on his chronic copulation of cute cunts.” Then the fourth floozy strutted towards him. “Mmmm,” he moaned as she kissed him, hard. “You don’t call, you don’t write for two terms,” said Saucy Harry in accusatory fashion, “so I had to make my own blasted booking in your confounded Cute Cunt Calendar, Shagger.”
There was a sudden gasp of surprise from one of the unknowns. “Greetings,” she said, offering her hand, “we haven’t met, but you know my small son….” he did? “….I’m Tyler Watson….” Ohh, “….otherwise known as Tight Twat.” He shook it. “Pleased to meet you, Ma’am,” he replied, thinking things through, “presumably your husband took your name upon marriage….rather than the other way around?” She nodded. “Well sussed, Shagger,” she said, “and needless to say, he’s an open-husband….” Ohh, “….one reason we did so was because I’m a disciplinary Domme….” suddenly he wondered about his Mother, in similar circumstances? “….but Gerald was highly happy to be rid of his surname, having been born Winklebotham….” HE would, as well, “….he was called Winkler at school, and as you know, we passed it on.”
His Mother smiled, even as more milkees moaned. “We did consider the option, David,” she said, “but to be honest, I preferred Shagton to Whapshott.” Fair enough. “He was most grateful,” she continued, “when you punished his poppins posterior with its first formal flogging at St Sticks last autumn.” A phrase which seemed to have stuck. “Always happy to help, Ma’am,” he ventured, “but presumably this other lovely Lady is Mrs Joan Jones, with her….err….open-husband John on the milking machine?” There was a neat nod, and she shook his hand. “Yes,” she replied, “and before you ask, we were both born Jones.” So the problem had never arisen with them.
“What sordid secrets has our sinful son been spilling, Shagger?” asked Tight Twat. “He told me about some of the several suspect AV Records he’d secretly seen, Mesdames,” he explained, pointing towards the camera, “and presumably another of which is presently in progress?” There were two guilty grins, “You’re welcome to borrow some, Shagger,” said Tight Twat. “I’d like to watch them as well,” said his Mother, “so I’ll give you our address before we go.” He turned towards the fourth floozy, dressed in the Strict Spinster style. It was a short severe double-breasted tweed jacket, with a matching strict skirt which would roll up as required, and long black Sinatra-style thigh-boots. It was tied tight around her waist by what was clearly a detachable black leather belt.
“Might I introduce you all to my driving examiner?” he asked, “she’s Mrs Harriet Palmer….with open-husband Harry Callaghan on the machine. Neither attended St Sticks, but they’re known as Saucy Harry, after the proprietary brand of sauce….” which bore her initials, “….and Dirty Harry….” after the ancient actor Clint Eastwood’s character….” he paused, “….Mr Watson was one of The Six X-hibiti♂nists, so presumably it’s the same for Mr Jones….?” two more nods, “….in the circumstances, I’d venture to suggest dorm 6M for you two lovely Ladies….? two grins, “which makes all three of us from the six milkers,” put in his Mother, “….although David’s dad hails from The Six Canees. When were you pupils In The Pink? For me, it was Year LXVI.” There were two slight smiles. “All four of us were so in Year LXXIII,” replied Tight Twat, “which means we must have missed you.”
Then a pretty personage approached, wearing a soiled and stained black oilskin overall. It was only loosely affixed, and he was sure she wore nothing else underneath….apart from a pair of matching boots. Despite its obvious functionality, it was plain she was particularly pokeable. Not bad going….but then some lovely Ladies would look good wearing a dustbin liner. “Shagger,” she squealed, “I was starting to suspect I wouldn’t be screwed before you left school….” the lovely Ladies all looked at each other with obvious resignation, “….I’ll not take No for an answer this time. Do you want your Sex Thrashing of six strokes prior or post poking?” He smiled slightly. “I’ve a whipping boy with me this afternoon, Ma’am,” he replied to the Milkmaid, “my supremely submissive father will be happy to have the hits.” He gestured towards him on the wall.
“I suppose I should have seen the similar seven inches of circumcised sin, Shagger,” she said wryly. “I’ll be delighted to deal with the difficulty, Ma’am,” said his Mother, “he’ll be a Dell boy a little later, when I whip him in the woods.” With the name taken from the ancient sitcom, Only Fools and Horses. “Might I accompany you to your office, Ma’am?” he suggested, “since you did offer to show me your….well, production statistics?” It made a change from etchings. “So you’re on a Fuck Fork, Shagger,” said Saucy Harry, sourly, “do remember you’re down to do me later.” He nodded. “Most certainly, Ma’am,” he confirmed, “but there shouldn’t be a problem with poking your pussy. There’s still several hours with which to regain the wherewithal. Especially since in the interim I’ll have been birched over the Block….” there were five gasps, “….as an encore, after all the prizes have all been awarded. I daresay some sinful sixdeen strokes should successfully get my gonads going again.”
Margarine checked on all four felons, and then took his hand. “So it’ll be another few minutes’ more male moaning, Joan,” muttered Tyler Watson as they walked away into the deeper darkness. Then they reached a door, which he pushed open and stood aside. “Thank you, Shagger,” she said, entering into daylight. Sure enough, she’d essentially been bare beneath the oilskins. “I’d like to take Tickling Tarts with tongue,” she said dreamily, “plus some simultaneous strafing for such sin.” Shoulders, seat and scrotum? “Shall I kneel naked in the Position For Pleasuring, Ma’am?” he asked as she nodded, and undid her overalls. Quickly, he shed his clothes, folding them neatly onto her desk. As he knelt, she spread her legs wide and picked up a French flogger.
“Start with the serious stuff,” she said, “never mind Humping Harlots with head....” THWACKK “….AHHH,” he gasped, meeting her martinet, “….UHHH….” she moaned as his tongue touched twat, “….since I’m ready to roll….UHHH….what with stroking myself silly on these sessions….UHHH….seeing so many straining shafts….UHHH….secreting so much semen….UHHH….UHHH,” she added as he delved deeper….Thwapp “….UGHHH….” Thwapp “….UGHHH,” he gasped as his manhood met her martinet, “….UHHH….UHHH….you really RUDE wretch….UHHH….” so who’d asked whom? “….deeper….UHHH….damn your distended dick….” definitely….THWACKK “….AHHH….” THWACKK “….AHHH,” he gasped as the seven strands of sheer suffering strafed his shoulders and seat, “….I’m cumming….UHHH….” THWACKK “….AHHH….” suddenly, she was shaking, “….YESS….YESS….YESS.” So success in every packet. “Oww….” he gasped as he was hauled to his feet by his ears, “….Mmmm,” he added as she kissed him hard.
“Screw me, Shagger,” she said, “I want some spunk inside me, soonest.” Highly happy to help, Ma’am. “Uhhh,” he moaned as he fucked her fancy, and a pulsing penis passed pussy. “UHHH….UHHH,” he repeated, and she held his hiney as he humped her hard. Dammit….he was already falling over the edge. “UHHH….I don’t know whether I’m cumming or going, Ma’am,” he said wittily, “….UHHH….very fucking funny….Shagguhhhh….YESS….YESS,” she moaned from a….well, second cumming, “….YESS….UHHH….YESS….Mmmm,” he moaned, kissing him in copulation as the room revolved.
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