Departure Day (Year LXXXIX)
Panty Pervert Pete prowled in the depths of Nuttingham forest. But surely this should be Nottingham, his brain protested? No….it was definitely the former, since he’d seen a large illuminated neon sign saying so. Discounting this temporal incongruity, it must still be complete cods, as he’d never been there….well, either of them. Yet here he was, although it seemed suspiciously similar to some of the dense woodland surrounding St Stricktlands School. As he did so, a delightfully dirty ditty ran through his brain.
Panty Pete, Pervert Pete, padding through the park,
Lee van Cleef, cloak on tight, often after dark,
Leered by the bad, loved by the good,
So he should…..yes he would….in the nood.
He pursed his lips, attempting to identify the setting, and deciding it had originated from the ancient 1950’s TV children’s programme, Robin Hood….who’d ridden through the glen. He’d watched several episodes in black and white on AudioVisual Record with his father, Flasher Fred. It had starred Richard Greene….who now he thought about it, spelled his name the same as The Green Goddess….whoever she was? Then the Sheriff of Nuttingham stepped into the clearing, wearing nothing but a seriously satisfied smile. But why did he seem so similar to the prefect, Richard Sharp? “I suppose you’re pleased about finally bringing me to book….” he said bitterly, as a dozen armed soldiers appeared, “….or was it simply because you succeeded in scoring with a slut?”
The Sheriff shrugged. “Both,” he agreed amiably, “since I’ve made Marion.” What wonderful wit….even as the duplicity of his dastardly date became apparent. So it had all been a trap, and he’d fallen straight into it. “I couldn’t cope with all your pathetic perversions and peccadilloes, Peter,” she said, “and decided to go for a Dominant dolt. Switches….well, they blow both hot and cold, so you never know where you are with them.” As indeed Rick The Prick had always claimed.
The scene shifted abruptly, and without warning. Suddenly he was standing starkers in what seemed to be On-Stage Stooge, and in the limelight….or rather on the firing line. As expected, the Sheriff had sentenced him to death, selecting 1st November for the date of execution. It would be, he’d explained, the Gonads Gallows on All Hallows….so very fucking funny. Alas sex was something now consigned to history, at least from his personal perspective. “Such a shame,” said some sort of seductive soprano, “since you’d been in my Screwing Schedule.”
He peered around, and sure enough one of his executioners was Karen Eis. At The Styx, she’d always been a dead-clever, dark-haired damsel. Now in maturity she’d blossomed into a sexy Siren. So much was obvious, despite the prison Wardress wear. It featured long matt black heavy-duty taut trousers with wooden truncheon, plus a felt-tip pen and The Cattle Prod housed in deep pockets. There was a white shirt and black tie, matching jacket and flat peaked cap, plus a pair of stout shiny shoes.
But where was this so-called school anyway? Surely it wasn’t in Nuttingham….and anyway On-Stage Stooge was situated in Soho, in the seedy centre of London. “You certainly won’t be sending me out of your study with a seriously sore seat any more,” said another vixen’s voice. Inevitably it was her favourite friend Kelly Morgan, also looking fit to kill….which was precisely the point. They’d both been his Sadistic Screws for the past few days of his incarceration, and he’d the stripes to prove it. OMG….as his fate was finally confirmed, since he saw two dangling nooses beckoning towards him….for nex and nax. Might this be one Nice, although why he was worried with wit was another matter? “Ohh,” he gasped, feeling his hands tied behind his back
Then it was the rope….suitably silky it seemed, rather than hemp. “Ohh….ohh,” he added with what seemed just like Naccatape. In happier times it gave his gonads gathered for grief, with the ¾ inch wide white torment tape enabling testicles to be tied temptingly tight to taste. “Rather than being blindfolded,” she said, “perhaps panties for Panty Pervert Pete might be more appropriate?” Very apt….as he felt a pair being put over his nose. “Ohh,” he moaned as he inhaled some choice cunt scent. “You’re getting the gonads gallows good….” he heard The Pirate saying, “….Nuttingham for nuts,” added The Ice Maiden.
He peered at his appreciative audience and as expected, The Knackerobot of his nightmares was in one of the front seats. The fearsome beast of fiction and fantasy had been after him for years. It bared its shining metal teeth at him in the travesty of a smile, and waved its cold steel hand with the satisfaction of a job well done. Next to it was The Sheriff of Nuttingham, who gave him the thumbs up. On its second side sat his dratted Aunt Marge, nodding with obvious approval. She’d always said flogging was too good for him. Behind them were Richard and Shirley Greene, engaged in convivial conversation. There was a long second, whilst he contemplated his fate.
Would anyone be waiting for him on the other side? Might it be his personal demon, the clip board with small spindly arms and legs? Or the handsome young Dr Diablo Saturn, complete with forked tail, in his study full of sulphurous smoke? On the other hand it might be Dr arboretum bough, alias The Branch Manager. Maybe the latter, since he might be mad at all those missed opportunities for inducing accidents during his time of tenure in Nuttingham Forest?
Although on reflection it hadn’t made much difference. One way or another, he’d find out very soon. “It’s time for you to go down….,” said The Pirate, unaccountably, “….do drop in, Sir,” added The Ice Maiden, as always cultivating a crisp kind of snappy sexiness. Suddenly he was turning, and finally he felt himself falling. “AYEEEEE….” he shrieked as his gonads went for good, “….AGHHHKKK,” he added as the noose on his neck did the dreadful deed.
THUMPP “….Ohh,” he gasped, hitting the study floor. He opened his eyes, and peered out from behind what had indeed been a pair of green naughty knickers. The two terrors were sitting starkers and smiling down at him. Karen Eis was seated on a chair a few feet away, whereas Kelly Morgan was on the bed. “I hope you didn’t mind me pulling your tie whilst rolling you onto the floor, Sir,” she said, “but it seemed to fit the fantasy terribly well.” So he’d been talking in his sleep again….and presumably they’d actually spoken the phrases his brain had woven into dream fodder?
“Very good,” he growled. “I’ve made copious notes of all your utterances, Sir,” said her favourite friend, “it must be hell inside your head.” He shivered slightly, and then noticed he wasn’t quite naked. “We didn’t have much time for the props,” put in The Pirate, “although the Naccatape was easy enough. It was in your pocket, since you seem to enjoy it a lot….” guilty as charged, m’Lady, “….but we had to make do with your trouser belt for the handcuffs, and tie for the noose around your neck.” Full marks for ingenuity, and this explained their salutations. “Thanks a bunch….” he said sourly, “….or even branch,” interjected The Ice Maiden, “but I was intrigued by this Buff character.”
He swallowed, happy he hadn’t been hanged after all. “It’s spelled B-O-U-G-H,” he replied, “and he was once the horrid Headmaster of Winchester School. In case you were interested, Dr Satan’s modelled on Dr Dire.” They both nodded, knowingly. “He with a tendency towards tight trousers,” said The Pirate, “plus a particularly pert posterior. I shall look forward to flogging Dr Dwyer Barlow-Stratton….since I’ve Solicited a suitable screw next Spring.” Well, she WAS currently one of the h♀♀kers of dorm 4H.
Then Karen Eis put down her notes….actually his clipboard. Clearly she’d been using the back of a blank beat sheet, which latter she folded into her jacket pocket on the floor. “What time did you arrive?” he asked. “It was just after four o’clock, Sir,” she replied, “The Dawn Monitor enquired where we were headed? We told the prefect Lionel Kingdom it was your study, and assured him we wouldn’t be getting up to too much mischief together. So he simply swished us for being Out Of Dorm after curfew. Then he asked whether we’d pass an erection inspection? When we said no, he added another three for Naughty nipples.” He smiled slightly.
“Now you know what it’s like to be a bad boy,” he said, “since it happens to us all the time. I’m afraid The Lion King’s a Dominant dolt, hailing from The Six DemeanErs of dorm 6D last year….” he looked at his wall clock, which read 6.40am, “….but thank you very much for not awakening me too early, since I was in pretty poor shape last night.” They both nodded. “We noticed, Sir,” said Kelly Morgan, “with your robe on the floor, and you lying comatose on the bed. I suppose all the floozies were too much for you….” it seemed she’d checked his Cute Cunt Calendar, which detailed his dalliances, “….we assumed you’d successfully screwed all six sluts, since there seemed to be so many stripes on your seat.”
She stroked herself where she shouldn’t. “It wasn’t so much the sex, but the School Doctor’s prescription pill,” he explained, “it definitely helps do the dirty deeds, but the after-effects are awful. Fortunately I’m past the worst.” Slightly unsteadily, he struggled to his feet. “Take my chair, Sir,” urged The Ice Maiden, as she vacated it, “and we’ll provide you with some voyeuristic erotic entertainment.” Which sounded excellent. “Ohh….” he gasped as he sat down, grateful she’d selected the only smooth-seated specimen in the study, “….Ahh,” he added as she knotted his tie onto the back of the chair.
“Now you can’t get up to any mischief….” said Karen Eis, “….although WE can,” added Kelly Morgan, “I hope you haven’t any objection to being my balls bulb boy.” He shook his head. “Delighted as always,” he confirmed, “and likewise if The Ice Maiden wishes to demand her dues.” They both flexed their fingers. “AHHH….AHHH,” he gasped as he was knackered naked, “AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AYEEEEE….I am your stretch slave….MA’AM.” She released her hold, and his testicles were taken by his junior fag. “UGHHH….UGHHH….” he moaned whilst his scrotum was squashed soundly, like an old-fashioned motorcar horn from yesteryear, “….BEEP BEEP,” he added, with some sort of sickly smile, as was required in such circumstances. “Now we’ll do some sixdy nines….” said The Pirate.
Taking tongues to twats was a light Lesbian leaning, “….as The Terror Twins too did on occasion. I caught them at it a couple of times last year.” He’d mostly managed to miss out on such sins at The Styx….but it certainly WAS a twin thing. Samantha and Patricia Terrier had once shamelessly satisfied themselves on his bed, at the end of a month’s Holiday From Hell two summers previously. Fascinated, he watched them at work. Though it was such a shame he couldn’t stroke his shaft, however he’d manage with some fearful frustration fun. “Uhhh,” he moaned repeatedly, and his world wavered whilst he breathed in new naughtiness. “Uhhh….uhhh,” they both moaned in unison, with Kelly Morgan lying down and Karen Eis on top of her.
At least he had the luxury of knowing how he’d be bonking them both the following spring? Clearly they’d had plenty of previous practice, and knew exactly what they were doing….drat them. At their tender age, he hadn’t clue about pleasing pussy. Dammit….he’d never even touched a twat, let alone tongued it. “UHHH….UHHH….YESS….YESS….” moaned The Pirate, “….YESS,” echoed The Ice Maiden, “again….then it’s your turn on top.”
The time was 7.51am before they decided to call a halt. “I assume you’ve no objections to us enjoying a hot shower together, Sir,” suggested Karen Eis, in her usual forthright fashion. “Not at all,” he replied, “my facilities are all yours….except the ones which will wait until next year….” SLAPP “….Oww….” SLAPP “….Oww,” he gasped as she leaned over and slapped his face. “Cocky Little Blighters should suffer some Superiority swishing,” he said, as per the packing on Parkers’ posterior punishment products. “As indeed I demonstrated in dorm yesterday evening,” she agreed, “but I’m looking forward to it immensely. I hope you and your co-conspirator in crime will both wine and dine me first?”
He nodded. “If you wish,” he replied, “Relay and I can take you to dinner at The Stern Maiden….unless it’s a Strict Sirs Session….” he paused, “….my offer’s available to you too, Kelly….when I call back again for YOUR defloration a couple of weeks later.” They both smiled widely. “Thank you, Sir,” said his junior fag, “an excellent idea. Anyway, we’ll leave you, alas having not loved you. Don’t go away.” Ha bloody ha again, as they padded away towards the shower room, leaving him Leching Longingly Like A Loser at their retreating rears.
Then the study door opened, and his Senior fag entered. “Good morning….Sir….” said Mitchell Mary Murphy, noting his tie. It alone was sufficient to maintain his prefect’s privileges, “….sorry to disturb you, since you’re a little….well, tied up….” what wonderful wit, “….although I’m afraid it wouldn’t be etiquette to release you from someone else’s bondage.” He shrugged and struggled, and sure enough the belt behind his back became loose. “There we are, Mitches….” he said, bringing round his hands and rubbing his wrists, “….done and dusted.
It was an Impromptu immobilization….” a Big Word from the pages of the Master himself. It featured in both his books….The Wind In The Willows and also Grahame’s Guide To Grandiloquisms, meaning on the spur of the moment, “….since the terrible two presently under the shower didn’t have time to do the job properly. I was dreaming, and they sort of helped the show on the road….” he removed the naughty knicks from his nose, and folded them neatly onto The Pirate’s pile of clothes.
Then he shimmied around, and unknotted the tie from the chair, “….I got given the Gonads Gallows….again. It confirms my castration complex, the same as so many other million mere males….ohh,” he added as she stroked his cheek, and as always her touch was 1000V. “Thank you for last night, Sir,” she said, “on behalf of The Shagger S♀ciety for all six screws. I hope there weren’t too many ill-effects afterwards.” He grimaced. “There were, Mitches,” he muttered, “but a good night’s sleep certainly helped. Unfortunately, I’m still somewhat spunked out.”
She sat down on his bed with her legs spread, facing him. “I do have one special request, Sir,” she said, “I did express the hope you’d use the Slit Stretcher from Her Box Of Tricks on me one day, Sir.” He recalled the occasion well, when he’d been entertaining Jillian, one of the Waitresses from The Stern Maiden in his study. His senior fag had subsequently spotted it on the table. As a pussy pain pervert, it seemed to have spoken somewhere inside her sinful psyche. “You know the problem, Mitches,” he said. “Yes, Sir,” she replied, “it wouldn’t be properly professional….and nor would a dildo head-harness afterwards. But you could give me my Farewell Foursome first, and then officially I wouldn’t be your senior fag any longer. Then afterwards, you could use a dildo head-harness on me.”
Fair comment. “All right,” he said, “my penis isn’t up to performing on pussy. Although there might be a problem, as you’ve packed everything away.” She smiled slightly. “I must have missed a couple of things, Sir,” she said, “perhaps you should check your bedside cabinet….second drawer down.” Where the sinful stuff was always stored, and well thought-out. “One extra whack for incompetent packing,” he said sternly, “and a second for Soliciting. There are already six from assorted sins owing on your beat sheet, making a dozen due. Bare your bottom and we’ll start with two staccato style sets of three.” She shed her pleasingly pleated pink skirt, stepped out of her naughty knickers, and folded both items neatly to the floor. Impeccable tidiness had been caned into her during her sojourn at The Styx. He’d had his hand in hitting her hiney hard, as part of the process.
Swishhhthwackkkkk Swishhhthwackkkkk Swishhhthwackkkkk
“Yeee..HEEE..EEEE….THREE, thank you, SIR,” she yelped.
Swishhhthwackkkkk Swishhhthwackkkkk Swishhhthwackkkkk
“Yeoww..OWWW..WOWW….SIX….thank you so much, SIR,” she gasped, “as a pussy pain pervert, perhaps the second six should be on the slit, Sir.” Incorrigible. “Certainly, Mitches,” he muttered, “go and lie down, legs spread….” she arose with alacrity, and bounded up onto the bed, “….did you pack the pillow punishment points of pain?” She stitched the so-called swishees’ smirk, often offered by culpable canees in class as a prelude to public punishment. “No, Sir,” she replied, “but I was sort of hoping you’d use them on me as well….to prop up my posterior prior to punishing pussy.”
Fair enough. “Bottoms UP,” he ordered, taking the pillow with its sewn-in circular pressure pad of pure pain and pushing it horizontally under her hiney. “AHH,” she gasped as the small semi-sharp spikes at ⅛ inch intervals bit her bum. She gritted her teeth, and he struck the slit sharply….Swishthwack “….UGHHH….me cunt,” she squealed, writhing as she did so and arching her head backwards….Swishthwack “….UGHHH,” she squealed again from a second such strike. “Oh, SIR,” she shouted, “it stings the slit so much, SIR….uhhh….” he stared at her, “….harder, Sir,” she added very quietly….Swishhhthwackkk “…..URGHHH….” she shouted…. Swishhhthwackkk “…..URGHHH….” Swishhhthwackkk “….URGHHH….I’m so grateful for the privilege of having been your sinful senior fag for Year LXXXIX, Sir. Thank you for showing me how you’ve always been such a superbly strict and Superior Sir.”
A sound statement of contrition. It must be part of the human condition, since so many lovely Ladies liked Cunnie Punnie. Plums pain perverts were similar, by being beaten on the bare balls. “Six of the best with a difference,” he suggested as she stuck her tongue out at him but said nothing. “You’d best be in bondage,” he said, “for what will really be rape….albeit of the consensual kind.” He shackled her wrists and ironed her ankles, using the Standard St Stricktlands study bed-bondage features. Next, he collected his cane, the only remaining rattan not presently packed in the special holdall which had been delivered the day before.
Then he opened the drawer, extracted the Slit Stretcher and held it high. This was a technique apparently favoured by Comrade Colonel Rosa Klebb….the horrid harridan from the pages of Ian Fleming’s From Russia With Love. It meant more mental misery, before any agonies were applied. “As you can see,” he said soothingly, “this apparatus consists of a large metal ring, with eight sprung crocodile clips around the radius. It’s placed against the pussy, so the labial lips can be surgically spread and stretched….for eventual ease and simplicity of screwing.” He knelt between her legs. “NO….mercy, Sir,” she shouted as she struggled against the shackles. “No mercy it is,” he said amiably, with the usual wilful misunderstanding. “Ooh….SIR,” said The Pirate, suddenly standing by the bed, “me next.” Another pussy pain pervert. “I’m so sorry, Kelly,” he replied, “but you’ll have to wait until next year. Go and start on my breakfast.”
She gave him a glare, one which would have torched toast at twendy paces, and padded away. “AYEEEEE,” shouted 3M, as he placed the first clip onto her labial lips. The second would be on the opposite side, serving to separate them. “AYEEEEE,” she shouted, as her pussy was painfully prised apart. “AYEEEEE….AYEEEEE,” she shrieked, as he applied the third and fourth, “AYEEEEE….AYEEEEE,” she repeated at five and six. “AYEEEEE….AYEEEEE,” she shrieked at the final pair. Then he picked up the dildo head-harness, and affixed it onto his face. “UHHH….UHHH,” she moaned as her fancy was fucked, “the pussy pain….UHHH….the pleasure….UHHH….cum my cute cunt….UHHH….OMG it’s cumming already….UHHH….YESS….YESS….YESS.” Blearily she opened her eyes. “Again, Sir?” she suggested, with a sly smile.
Six orgasms later, he withdrew. Slowly he stood up, and took off the harness. “Perhaps I might continue with her cute cunt for a while longer, Sir,” Karen Eis suggested, “I expect she’d enjoy the humiliation of having her pussy poked by a Brownie Babe. It seems to be the case when one is dealt with by younger years, as indeed Sir demonstrated with discipline on my derrière yesterday evening. Obviously it’s all enshrined in the principle of PWEP.” Punishment With Extreme Prejudice. “I’m sure you’re right, Karen,” he agreed, “you may do your worst.” She accepted it, and licked her lips. “I expect Kelly would like to take a turn too, Sir,” she said, “so perhaps we could swap over at some stage. I’m happy to serve Sir’s breakfast, as another nude Waitress.”
Bring it on. “It’s a deal,” he replied, “although as a de facto fag, it’ll cost you eight strokes, simply for starters. Also, any shoddy or substandard service will be swished soundly.” She mouthed him a kiss. “Promises, Sir,” she said as she put on the harness, and took his place on the bed. “UHHH….UHHH,” moaned 3M all over again. He picked up his clip board and collected the chair. Then he padded across the study to his table, which The Pirate had already laid out ready. “Ohh,” he gasped lightly as he sat down again. He closed his ears to the sounds of sin, and started on his cereal. Now would also be a good time to make up his beat sheets. First it was all the accrued entries from yesterday evening.
St Stricktlands School – Prefect Beat Sheet for:- David Shagton
Sheet no:- 161 School Term and Year:- Summer, LXXXIX
For the use of Prefects only. When all whacks on this sheet have been taken, it should be delivered to the School Secretary. This enables the punishments detailed thereon to be transcribed onto all scholars’ Discipline Reports. Please write neatly and legibly, otherwise penalties may be applied.
4. +++ final Full Day continued: Farewell Foursomes +++
5. Hunter, Matilda, 4K: 4.
6. Eis, Karen, 4K (administered by Waverley, William, 3W): 4.
7. Nought, Natalie, 5P: 4.
8. Eyton-Canley, Petula: 4, Arguing: 1 (3 cuts to cunt, 2 taken to tits), Total: 5.
9. Eyton-Canley, Fern: 4, Vulgarity: 1 (4 cuts to cunt, 1 taken to tits), total: 5.
10. +++ Other dorm discipline dished by Sir Digby Vaillance +++
“Here’s your final fry-up, Sir,” said Kelly Morgan, now the nude Waitress, and with brown high-heeled shoes. She set it down, and with a wiggle she strutted back to the kitchenette. He turned the pages to her own sheet, where there were already four outstanding.
7. +++ Departure Day +++
8. Incitement: 1.
9. Farewell Foursome: 4.
He’d also need a record of his temporary junior fag, so he headed up a new page.
St Stricktlands School – Fagging Beat Sheet for:- David Shagton
Senior/Junior
fag (delete
as applicable):- Karen Eis Sheet no:- 1
Dorm:- 4K School Term and Year:- LXXXIX
1. +++ Departure Day +++
2. SAYM T’GO: 4, Farewell Foursome: 4.
He’d be making more additions presently. Next, it was sheet 22 of his Private pages. “Mitches,” he called out, “who gave me the extra three for having some Hotty Totty yesterday evening….?” There was a short silence. “Uhhh….Sir,” she moaned, “we couldn’t decide….uhhh….so we threw the dorm die….UHHH….YESS….YESS.” He took a sip of coffee. “….in your own time,” he added amiably. “Uhhh….Sir….uhhh….” she started again, as clearly Karen Eis was doing likewise, “….it was Plane Jane, Sir….uhhh.” At last, an answer.
7. +++ Sex Thrashings taken in 6K, Final Full Day, half price quantity dis-cunts +++
8. Sharon Schweppes: 3, Holly Totton: 3, Richella Ruth Rhodes: 3, Natalie Falmouth: 3.
9. Jane Boeing: 6, Mitchell Mary Murphy: 3.
Last of all, there were the concluding entries on his Senior fag’s own sheet.
4. +++ Departure Day +++
5. Dereliction of Domestic Duties: 1, Soliciting: 1 - TAKEN
6. Final Farewell Foursome - TAKEN
He set down his clip board, and attacked his fried food. Just what….well, the doctor ordered, since apparently a good meal was in itself a good antidote to the medication.
Several minutes later, he’d finished and mopped his mouth. “I’ll take your plate, Sir,” said his new nude Waitress, having acquired Kelly Morgan’s high heels. “Before you go, assume the Position, guilty girl,” he ordered, “for your Start-As-You-Mean-To-Go-On beating….” she duly did so, “….they help to balance the body further forward, for an acuter angle of attack….” and so much sexier, “….which is why swished schoolgirl sluts are so popular in porn publications.”
Swishhhthwackkkkk Swishhhthwackkkkk
“Ooh..OOH….TWO, thank you, SIR,” she gasped, sounding so much like sex.
Swishhhthwackkkkk Swishhhthwackkkkk
“Yayy..HEYY….FOUR, thank you, SIR….” she gasped, with one of the so-called Hurting Hellos, “….I’ll do my best to be a good fag for you.” Albeit briefly. “NOW you may take the plate,” he said, “and then it should be the toast ticket.” She stood slowly, and strutted away in the classic canees’ gait of guilt: Look At Me, I’ve Just Been Caned. OMG….he really WAS looking forward to screwing her next Spring. Seconds later she returned and set it down. “A top-up of coffee would be nice,” he suggested, as she took the cafetière, and poured it out. Oops….since she succeeded in spilling some into the saucer. “Bend over again,” he said.
Swishhhthwackkkkk
“Yeoww….five, thank you, Sir,” she gasped. “Go and start on the washing up, Karen,” he ordered, as she strutted away a second time. He took a slice of toast, buttered it and added honey. Then he updated her beat sheet accordingly.
3. Carelessness: 1.
Plus perhaps something suitably sadistic for Kelly Morgan? Always be beware of what you want….since there’s the chance you’ll get it.
10. Being a lazy useless good-for-nothing junior fag: 4
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