Chapter 245 - part (2) of (4)

 Summer School – Year LXXXIX

 

Big Ben had since struck for 3.45pm when they arrived at the entrance hall, and started up the stone steps. At least they were easier on the ascent.  “I considered being late on purpose, Davy,” he confessed, “since I really fancy further flogging from our fearsome fagmaster….”

 

“In disciplinary disposition,” he explained, “my dad leans ’levendy ’leven, sloping towards submission….or 143 to 1 in old money.” She smiled. “Were you ever flogged by your father?” she asked. “No,” he replied, “it was my Mum….who always dished David’s discipline.”

 

“….but which wouldn’t be fair on you.” They reached the Level 1 landing. “The unwritten rule would apply, dad….” he said as they continued.

 

“….Don’t Expect Fairness, Because There Isn’t Any,” she interjected.

 

“….but thanks for your consideration….huhh….huhh,” he huffed all over again. Then they reached Level 6, and strutted down the gloomy corridor. He noted at once how each study door bore a taped single sheet of paper, divulging the details of the temporary tenant. The permanent panels were empty, and would stay so until the autumn, thus everything from Year LXXXIX was now history.

 

 

“This is what I call the Cunt At Infinity, dad,” he remarked, “which is a mathematical construct of my own making. It represents a destination desperately desirable in the distance, but utterly unattainable.” There was slight smile. “Very droll, Davy,” he said, “one might similarly say the far horizons draw no closer, although I’ll admit I prefer your version.” Finally, they reached what must be study eighdeen, and examined the door.

 

Manitoba Hardcastle

Formatia trans sicere castigatio

 

“Can you help me with the Latin logo, dad?” he asked, “presumably you must know it?” There was a slight smile. “It’s Enter All Ye Who Seek Discipline,” he replied, “the same as he used in Year LXVII….” he shrugged, “….in we go, to face the music.” He opened the door as he spoke, and they stepped inside. It was in accordance….”

 

“….with fagging protocol,” she said sourly, “whereby fags don’t need to knock on their own prefect’s door. I’ve attended St Sticks for four years and been a junior fag for two of them, so this much I’ve learned, Shagger. I’ve often thought I spend half my time fagging.” He shrugged. “By the time you reach prefecthood,” he said, “you WILL have done so….for three years out of the six. With most scholars, it’s only a third. But I’ve no sympathy, since your time with me was at your specific request: to be sent out of my study with a suitably stinging and sore seat.” Oops….guilty as charged, m’lud. “Moving on?” she asked in strangled tones.

 

The previous prefect was standing at the study table, seemingly stern. “I was wondering whether Georgie Boy would be late on purpose?” he mused, “I’m well aware he was in one of The CP dorms….” whose members craved caning at all costs, “….I’m afraid you won’t be spending a great deal of time in my study this week, since I’ve already been asked for several swaps….” Oh, dear, “….including Rat Conman….” he shrugged, “….to tell you the truth, I don’t like him. But then, I never did care for anyone in the N series of dorms….” his point precisely, “…let’s have hands behind heads, in sinful schoolboy style….” they both complied, “I can see two Stiffie Salutes….which I understand is a new phrase referring to suitably straining shafts….” he paused, “….something else for which it seems Shagger was responsible?”

 

Presumably the query was intended for him? “Yes, Sir,” he said, “it originates from St Bodlians School in Rugby. I brought it to the attention of our august Headmaster at the close of the Summer Term just passed.” He wouldn’t amplify further, or it would be one whack for Impertinently Imparting Information. The prefect collected his cane, knobbed nastily at irregular intervals all along its lovely length. “This takes us back to the good old days, Georgie Boy,” he said, “with beatings before breakfast....and an acutely aching arse in the afternoon.” His philandering father nodded. “Yes, Sir,” he replied, “I’ve much missed your So-sorry-Sir-Ma’am-Malacca-model. Please be HARD with me….as I’m hard with you, Sir.” One of the several so-called Standard Subbie Swishing Sentiments. Very probably he knew them all? “You may go down for derrière discipline first,” he said with the fine old-fashioned phrase.

 

“It’s an interesting idiom,” he said, “sometimes spoken when seniors are swished. I reckoned it relates to previous generations of punished posteriors. I was right, since I heard it several times during the week.” This certainly seemed sound.

 

Bend over, bad boy,” he ordered, “for a Welcome Back Whacking, on the Once-A-Fag, Always-A-fag principle….” which made no material difference, “….it’s STILL a neat little bottom, always Asking for the cane….” doubtless if his dad had a dollar for every occasion it was complimented, he’d be very rich, “….high heels help hitting hineys, since the body’s balanced further forward, for an acuter angle of attack.”

 

“Something you’ve always said of sinful schoolgirls, Shagger,” she said. “Yes,” he agreed, “which is why there are so many porn publications featuring flogged floozies’ fannies.”

 

Swishhhhthwackkkkk    Swishhhhthwackkkkk    Swishhhhthwackkkkk    Swishhhhthwackkkkk

“Yippee..Yi..Yay..YEEEE,” he yelped, “FOUR, so sorry, SIR. I’ll be my pleasure to fag for you again.” Possibly also a penile one? “I suppose you’ll wish to be senior fag?” he asked. “No, Sir,” he replied, “It should be Davy, since as a professional chef, meals from me might be better if I’m just junior.” Their fearsome fagmaster smiled widely. “Fine,” he replied, “so another three for the Thrill Of A Thrashing, as I note it’s now called….” he paused, “….with more thanks to Shagger, it seems. It’s surprising how quickly one gets out of touch.”

 

Swishhhhthwackkkkk    Swishhhhthwackkkkk    Swishhhhthwackkkkk   

“Yippee..Yay..YEZZ,” he gasped, “SEVEN, so sorry, SIR. Perhaps one more….to take us tidily up to a straight eight?” There was a wide smile. “One whack for a caneable Question,” he confirmed, “Impudence, in this instance….and I’ll hit hard.”

 

SWISHHHTHWACKKKKK

“YIKES,” he gasped, “EIGHT, so sorry SIR. Thank you for thrashing me, Sir….I know just how much I needed it….” as indeed he’d stated, “….please show me some Superiority, Sir.” He spread his legs. “Since this is Summer School,” said Manitoba Hardcastle, “things are done far more informally, and we won’t worry with an S7….”

 

“The Standard St Stricktlands School Study Scrotum Stretcher, Shagger,” she said, “and talking of which, I’m very grateful to Miffy Smiffy for HER Deposition last Summer. The suggestion of pretty prefects being issued with them, for use with fagswaps, was very much appreciated. Karen’s the same, being markedly more into knackering. You know The Knackies carried an unofficial designation for dorm 4K last year?” He nodded. “Yes,” he agreed, “since they go for the gonads….as indeed I discovered during a Voluntary Victim night.” Now she recalled her favourite friend telling her about it the following morning, and how his scrotum had suffered substantially. “They took the title with them,” she said, “so now The Gopher Girls are The Knackerers of dorm 5K.”

 

“….you’ve signed my Sheet, so I’ll demand my dues.” AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH,” gasped his father, “AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AYEEEEE….I am your stretch slave, SIR….huhh….and it seems you’ve stretched some semen, Sir.” Sure enough, there was a long line of liquid oozing off his organ. “Take a tissue from the table, Georgie Boy,” he said testily, “whilst I start on Shagger’s seat. How are you with high heels, and naked waiter service? I wouldn’t want you falling all over the floor.” No problem. “It’s not an issue, Sir….” he replied as his dad mopped up the mess, and disposed of the débris into the wastepaper basket, “….I’ve had extensive experience over the years.” His fearsome fagmaster nodded with obvious approval. “I’m sure we’ll get along excellently well together,” he said, “the same as your dad. So from now on, you can suffer the shame of reporting here whilst wearing your fagging uniform….” which he’d really rather enjoy, “….all right, so I’m wasting my time….” clearly his apparent mind reading abilities were working well, “….being almost impossible to embarrass an incorrigible exhibitionist. Bend over, bad boy, and we’ll begin.” Wheeewww….went the whippy Whangee weapon through the empty air, “….HOOO!,” he huffed even though no stroke had struck. “I assume an anticipation of the agonies, and an acutely aching arse?” he asked, wryly. “Yes, Sir,” he admitted, even as his penis pulsed.

 

“Another neat little bottom,” he opined, “it too is simply Asking for the cane….” so two dollars for HIS collection, “….with an existing stripe. Who hit your hiney hard….and why?” Easily addressed. “Please Sir,” he replied, “it was Matthew Conran, Sir. I failed an erection inspection earlier in the main entrance hall.” Which he’d do again. “He’s a complete cretin,” he confirmed, “and at least he won’t be attending Lancashire….” although where, if anywhere, was another matter? “….you’ll be swapped on Saturday morning, since he wanted you to wait all week….” studied sadism, “….he’s in study ten on Level 4, and I must mention to him it’s a Senior Swap. But now it’s your Same To Go beating….” or otherwise Start-As-You-Mean-To-Go-On, and almost an acronym, “….I’ve been looking forward to this ever since we first met, immediately after your University interview.”

 

Swishhhhthwackkkkk    Swishhhhthwackkkkk    Swishhhhthwackkkkk    Swishhhhthwackkkkk

“Yippee..Yi..Yay..YEEEE,” he yelped, “FOUR, so sorry, SIR. I too undertake to try and be a good fag for you, Sir.”

 

Swishhhhthwackkkkk    Swishhhhthwackkkkk    Swishhhhthwackkkkk   

“Yippee..Yi..YEZZ,” he gasped, “SEVEN, so sorry for such a sordid sight, Sir. Perhaps I should be knackered next.” He spoke it as a suggestion, rather than a caneable Question and spread his legs, temptingly. “AHHH,” he gasped, “AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….” his dad stared down into his eyes with some sympathy, “….AHHH….AHHH….AYEEEEE….I submit, SIR.” His fearsome fagmaster shifted his hold. “A knackering for a nasty nine,” he agreed, “your signature, please.” A well-worn stapled sheaf was handed to him, plus pen.

 

St Stricktlands School Stretch Slave Sheet for: Manitoba Hardcastle

The undersigned hereby humbly undertakes to bare his balls and accept a suitable 

stretching at any time and any place by his Master or Mistress. The balls should be bared

completely before the scrotum is stretched.

 

“Inevitably it was an old one, with the name typed,” he explained, “since after Sue Sweet started as School Secretary, she’s written them by hand.” Something else she’d not known.

 

He turned it over and wrote David Shagton in the next available space on the third page. “AHHH....AHHH,” he gasped, “AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AYEEEEE….I am your stretch slave….SIR.” Sure enough, he’d stretched some semen similarly, and he too took a tissue to it. “Stand up, Shagger,” he ordered, “then Georgie Boy can get going on my dinner. There’s a pretty pink frilly unisex slave apron in the kitchenette, which he can wear if he wishes.” There was a neat nod. “Thank you, Sir,” he said, “since this is my regular work wear….although I don’t usually bother with the bowtie.” The Hard Man stared at him. “Really?” he asked, “what do the Management have to say about an essentially starkers chef?” This time there was a wide smile. “Please, Sir,” he replied, “I’m one of the owners, so make the rules. All my Waitresses and waiters are allowed to spank and swish my seat whilst I’m working, since it makes me much more efficient.” Also, he enjoyed it all.

 

“Most interesting,” she said, “it’s a sight I’d like to see. Do you think I might get to offer my condiments to the chef?” What wit. “If he’s working this evening,” he replied, “we’ll certainly do so. But there’s no guarantees given at this stage.” Which was fair enough.

 

“There’ll be one whack on each of your beat sheets for delayed dinner….” he paused, “….make it four. I’m sure you’re aware of the reasons.” They nodded. “Yes, Sir,” they intoned.

 

“I’m not,” she said, “what have I missed.” He sniffed. “We both thought, ‘So whose sodding stupid fault was it?’ or words to the effect. Therefore it was a whack for the Vulgarity, the sentiment and the Question….in addition to the delay….” Ohh, “….anyway I cleaned out the shower for about twenty minutes. It’s my pet hate, something which I was sentenced often enough by Sexy Sammy. You’ll recall she did so in order to, ‘keep me humble,’ ….hump her captivating Celtic cunt. Then I was back into the main study, for Naked Waiter service.”

 

“Your soup, Sir,” he said, placing the bowl onto the table, and spilling it slightly. “Bend over,” he said, “one whack for such shoddy service. You can use the Rapid Responses each time your tush is tanned….”

 

“Which are rather rare,” she agreed, “no affirmations, salutations, or cut count.” He nodded.

“….simply rise and get going.” He bent over, nice and tight….SWISHHHTHWACKKK “….OWW,” he gasped, and then stepped stiffly away. His shaft was in the same situation.  

 

“We finally finished at five past five,” he said, “and were dismissed for the day. Then we dressed, and headed out of his study. Inevitably, we were walking along the corridor in the classic canees’ gait of guilt….one which you know well?” She nodded. “Most certainly, Shagger,” she agreed, “Look At Me, I’ve Just Been Caned.” Somehow though, the dividing line between embarrassment and exhibitionism was very fine. “Then we continued downstairs for our own delayed dinners,” he said, “which was in itself a slight shock. I hadn’t been aware how Summer School could also include sometime Staff.”

 

Duty Canteen Supervisor

Alice Tetsworth

 

Good grief, it was Tits Worth, and he saw her standing just inside the double doors. “Shagger,” she said with obvious warmth, “and this must be your philandering father?” He nodded, “It’s Shagton, George, Ma’am,” he confirmed, “normally known as Georgie Boy, and one of The Six Canees.” She smiled widely. “Shall we say a traditional threesome tomorrow evening?” she suggested, “Fifi’s not here this week, so I’m using her study….or rather my own, since she took it over from me when I left….” study 5 on Level 1, “….see you at seven o’clock.” Screw, she meant. “Yes, Ma’am,” they replied in unison, joining what was alas a long line.

 

“I won’t sit with you, Davy,” he continued, “to not to cramp your style. But as for this evening’s erotic entertainment, we’ve an open invitation to The Six Milkers, anytime after dinner. It’s first….well, cum, first served. Presumably you’ve been there before?” He pursed his lips, rifling through memory. “I never did so during Year LXXXVIII, dad,” he replied, “but attended on occasion whilst a prefect. At H₂O’s request, I once ferried the whole of dorm 6M to our restaurant in Stric one evening....” STR 1C, the school minibus, “….for them to visit the Coffee Service Suite.”

 

“Which is certainly something else I want to see, Shagger,” she said darkly. “All right,” he replied, “although you’re still too young to be given a go yourself.” So there it was again….age against her. Still, this too would pass eventually.

 

“We’ve several sufferings scheduled for this session, Davy,” he said, “but I won’t spoil the surprises. However tomorrow afternoon, I shall be screwed by my spouse….” really? “….as a Sunday Special. We’ve borrowed her old study....” Sexy Sammy’s, being Bren’s too….and this week as well. But who’d be obtaining its lease for Year XC?

 

“Study 17….I mean fifdeen on Level 3 is Very Nice,” she said. “Gotcha,” he said, “Verity Gneiss, Bren’s Bi-babe girlfriend, and this year’s Sex Slut Of St Stricktlands School.”

 

“….and we’ll use your Mother’s General Studies project….” the Riding Bench For Expert Equestriennes, “….you may be aware we did so during my proper period In The Pink, and got away with it. Since she was a pretty prefect, it counted as Obliging the lovely Lady. But this time, we’ll be caught in flagrante delicto by Thrasher Thring.” Or otherwise In The Act. “Which will please The Professor,” he said dryly, “since he once mentioned as much. Apparently he was mildly miffed at not beating you both with The Big One.” His dad winked once. “Quite so, Davy,” he agreed, “Terrence is away on holiday in America, so Father Wodin’s back in the hot seat….or rather ours, so to speak….” what wit, “….we’ll be flogged in front of the school on Monday morning.”

 

He smiled. “The Interrogator told me how he intended to visit Alcatraz,” he said, “and have a quiet word with one of the tour guides….or offer them a few dollars to look the other way for a few minutes. Apparently it’s one of his fiancée’s filthy fantasies to photograph him starkers in the cells. She’d be dressed in the prison Wardress wear, as some sort of Sadistic Screw.” His philandering father smiled sweetly. “It wouldn’t be an issue, Davy,” he said sagely, “since it’s quite a common request….” really? “….the going rate is, or at least was, thirty bucks for a secluded cell….or sixty, if one is wanted with watchers….like the Amsterdam Shop Windows in seedy street style….” Oo..er, yes MA’AM, “….your Mother and I enjoyed it immensely….” Oops, “….now you’re grown up, we’ll find the filthy photos.” Would he ever plumb the depths of his dad’s deviances. But might he and his Missus do the same?

 

“Finally we collected all our food,” he said, “and I headed away. I spotted Relay at the far end of the room, with one space free on his table. The others were wearing pink Short Shirts.” 

 

“Hello, Ray,” he said warmly, “may I join you? How’s the second-best man’s speech going?” His firm friend smiled. “Very well, thanks….and surely, Shagger,” he replied, “I’ve got some good grandiloquisms going.” He set down his tray. “Ohh….” he gasped as his raw rear reminded him of its recent rattan, “….the really rough raised ridges don’t get any easier.” Three faces stared at him in sympathy. “These sodding Short Shirts don’t help hurting hineys either,” said one, “being worse with a bared beaten bottom.” As he’d found out often enough the hard way. “We’ve all been substantially slave stretched,” said his firm friend, “and doubtless you’ll be the same….” he paused, “….guys….this is David Shagton, one of the latest in our illustrious line. Shagger, meet my former fearsome fagmasters….George Crossland and Christopher Leggett. Both hail from The Six Wankers….The George Cross in Year LXXXIII, and Leg It in Year LXXXVI. We’ve a full house in dorm 6W, with everyone Cunt Casanovas for week 5.”

 

He shook hands with them both. “I’m honoured to meet you,” he said, “and understand Chris was kind enough to make my Missus immediately after her sixteenth birthday?” The other nodded. “Ray did remind me,” said a seductive bass register rumble, “and I noted at the time how she had Conscious Cunt Contraction Control, or would with practice….uh..huh….we’ve another Stretchess.” A pupil-with-pussy In The Pink sauntered up to the table. “I’ll give you merry hell, Leg It,” she said, sniffily, “posting your incredibly long list of cunt conquests up on the main school notice board on Departure day. It included our couple of copulations….you complete cad. But at least you signed my Sheet whilst we were wrestling in your study. She slammed it onto the table, and he saw she was Meredith Heller….Valerie’s twin, from the Six Bi Babes of dorm 6B.

 

“You’ll recall Valhalla was Sexy Sammy’s frightful fagmistress in Year LXXXVII….” she pursed her lips, “….but Merry Hell was the same for Grizzle Guts….” as Dominetta Grizelda Gutteridge was once known, “….so I can see Summer School’s a small world.” He nodded. “Domme did say as such,” he agreed, “anyway, Leg It stood up and she stretched his scrotum substantially. Then she smiled and turned towards us.

 

“I never got The George Cross….so to speak,” she said wittily, “although I was once one of The Balls Busters of dorm 4B. It was owing to the dratted No-Knackering-Outside-Your-Year rule. Would you care to correct it, now?” He shrugged, and stood similarly.

 

“So his nuts were knackered,” he confirmed, “her Sheet signed and his scrotum similarly stretched. Next she did Relay, and then she stared at me speculatively.”

 

“I don’t know your name, bad boy,” she said, “do you claim to be a Cunt Casanova?” He nodded, politely. “Yes, Ma’am,” he replied, standing, “David Shagton, or Shagger at your….well, service….” SLAPP “….Oww….I’m so sorry for such shocking sexism, Ma’am.”  

 

“Needless to say,” he said, “MY nuts were knackered….for another nasty nine. I signed away my pride, and was stretched. Finally, she ambled away, and I was able to start my cold soup.”

 

“It’s the price of fame, Shagger,” said Leg It….or infamy. “You ARE a living legend, Chris,” he said, “with an unsurpassed sexual stamina. At the close of Year LXXXIX, I was able to replicate your feat of screwing six slits at a single sitting. Though to help the show along, I’ll admit to using one of Dr Manley Madison’s prescription pills. Even so, I had penile problems with the stroke under the showers for the seventh spunking. Fortunately my leetle Vrench Vancy was able to assist, and the sight of slit was sufficient stimulus.” There were three sniggers. “It’s nice to know I’m still remembered at all, Shagger,” he said, “since it’s only been two years. Already I belong in the history books….no offence, George.” The other smiled. “None taken, Chris,” he said, amiably, “however it does demonstrate the usefulness of Summer School. We can share memories with all manner of sometime scholars, in addition to revisiting the rattan….oh, dear….we’ve another Stretchess.”

 

“Which it was,” he said, “a seriously sinful slut called Jilly Firkin-Hyatt, once one of The Six Sets ♀f High Heels in dorm 6H….” he paused, “….do feel free to show me the Tart’s Trademark, which you wear so well.” She smiled sweetly, shifting her skirt to reveal several extra inches of thigh. “Hopefully it’ll be my destination in Year XCI,” she said, “however I was one of The Hazards in dorm 1H for Year LXXXV. I’ll agree she was jolly fucking hot….so to speak.” Maybe not TOO much more leg, or he’d have them in the ditch?

 

“After we’d finished dinner,” he continued, “we left all the subbies to decide who’d be Last Out. The Canteen Monitor might have been in for a long wait, since I saw several such specimens toying with their food. But there’d be many mealtimes during the week, and they could all take turns at tanning. The two detainees duly disappeared in the direction of the Teaching wings. Ray and I repaired to The Six Wankers, whereupon I met up with another former felon.”

 

“This is Samuel Yeo,” said Relay, “one of Jolly Fuckin’ Hot’s peers. Yosemite Sam was Leg It’s fearsome fagmaster in Year LXXXVI. Meet David Shagton….whose bed E is still adorned with a memorial from Year LXXXVIII….” he gestured towards the wall, “….like so many Cunt Casanovas, me included, he was pretty unpopular with his dearest dorm mates.”

 

The Shagger Suite

Increasingly infrequent occupancy during term of tenancy

 

“Did you ever suffer a session with the Boot Boys, Sam?” he asked. The other grimaced, and stroked his scrotum slightly. “Several times, Shagger,” he replied in strangled tones, “it’s an occupational hazard. But it seems you’ve achieved an amount of immortality.” He shrugged. “Only whilst the notice lasts,” he said, “as the new occupants next term may tear it down. But my other little legacies should linger longer….the Natty New Seats Of Learning, and also Shagger’s Schoolday Sojourns….” two faces registered surprise, “….when an Interloper can officially visit St Sticks, normally on Arrival Afternoon. They spend one night in their dorm of choice, and attend lessons the following morning. It’s an excellent idea for those unfortunates who didn’t attend a strict school….and yet deeply desired derrière discipline.”

 

“I returned next door to dorm 6X,” he said, “and spent a highly happy hour watching some of Winkler’s AV Records. Several of them spoke to my seriously sinful psyche….and Wanker Boy Will’s, it appeared. We all especially enjoyed Pervert in the Park with him role-playing sex pest. He crept up to a bench, where the two lovely Ladies were sitting chatting. With the Worthless Wanker wear, one strokes starkers….” basically a birthday suit, “….either surreptitiously or shamelessly. Afterwards, Iron Will confessed how he’d recently done something similarly sordid with his girlfriend Louise Roccella-Roland. I was aware how Rocky had suggested as such on Departure Day just passed….at a public place in Manchester, where he lives. At least nobody had ended up arrested for indecent exposure. It was almost seven o’clock, so I decamped downstairs to dorm 6M. Five beds were already occupied by various voluntary victims, so I was under the wire by a whisker. I took off my bowtie and high heels, which were duly defenestrated. Then I was trussed like a turkey by two teachers playing In The Pink….which was a second surprise. I lay face down along a pillow whilst they applied Quatrecuffs….a combined collar, handcuffs and balls band connected by chain-link leash. It was set short, so my neck was forced upwards. Then they turned me over, with my head lolling off the end of the pillow. But the testicular torments were simply secondary suffering, in order to present a perpendicular penis….the same as in Sexy Sammy’s study.” Lovely.

 

“Such appendages are absolutely apt for agony,” she said wittily. “True,” he agreed, “but now you’re one of The Babes In Blue, I suppose you’ve since been sentenced to some sessions in The Box Room….” Oops, “….with its system of Horrid Handicaps and Erotic Encouragements….” for tits torment. Her heart thumped as she held her chest, with many memories of the mammaries, “….evidently a Yes. I suspect you’re a sinful slut which enjoys sliding down the ropes in The Gymnasium during PT….?” again guilty, “….and talking of twat torment, there’s the Slit Stretcher, which I left with you on Departure Day. Has it seen service over the past two terms?” She cradled her crotch, “Uhhh….yes, SIR,” she breathed, “we’ve humbled several sluts….and then poking pussies with a dorm dildo.” Including some pretty prefects playing In The Pink. “But returning to the sorry saga,” he continued, “it started with a time of tickle torment.”

 

“I understand you’re Shagger….” said a seemingly strict soul, and brandishing a dildo with what seemed malevolent intent, “….since Olivia’s stated you’re her sinful son. My name’s Michaela Melksham of Year LXVI, which you may recall is hers….” he did, “….when captain, I was known as Make The Milk….” Oh, dear, “….and I’ll touch your tool with what was once one of our dorm dildos….and OW’s favourite forms of fetish. Obviously I shan’t tickle TOO terminally, since there are a further five floozies to follow in my footsteps.” He cringed quietly as she knelt between his legs, with an especially evil expression. “Uhhh….uhhh,” he moaned as his primary pleasure point was pleasured.

 

“She took me to the edge,” he confirmed, “which was what it was all about. Inevitably after several minutes I started to shed some semen, whereupon she stopped. I was a shivering wreck after twenty minutes of such terrible torment. I’d heard a crone cackling from somewhere down the dorm. The voice had sounded horribly familiar, although it wasn’t one of The Six Milkers. I was well aware whatever was responsible would eventually work its wicked way to me. Abruptly she kissed me, as indeed did all the others with their charges. Then they arose essentially in unison, as apparently it was time for a changeover. Next it was my turn to take tool torment from Joan Jones.”

 

“Hello again, Shagger,” she said, “I’m sorry you won’t be able to avail yourself of Tight Twat’s tight twat on this occasion….nor mine.” He smiled. “I’ve just been watching Pervert in the Park, Ma’am,” he said, “so saw you both showing your slits slightly, whilst Winkler wanked worthlessly. Presumably your worse half also enjoys stroking at such sin?” Jayjay grinned. “Yes,” she replied, “only he was behind the lens at the time….” Ohh, “….but the following week we repeated it all, with Winkler as cameraman and hubby as the Pervert. Anyway, it’s time for tool torment, since I’ve a Wartenberg Pinwheel for your pain and pleasure….” she seated herself comfortably, “….off we go.” He gritted his teeth, and thought of England.

 

“Æons later, it seemed,” he said, “and after someone else had suffered at the hands of the crone, she finally finished. By then I’d worked out what it was, however I too won’t spoil the surprise. After another quick kiss, it was Beverley Dolores Simone Milker’s turn.”

 

“Good evening, Shagger,” she said, “as you know, I never attended St Sticks as a scholar, but Summer School was simply too good an opportunity to be in dorm 6M for a week. So I’m notionally from your Year LXXXVIII….” the youngest possible, “….I hope you enjoy having the Shaft Stretcher….” did he have a choice? “….none at all….” so HER course in clairvoyance had been worth every new-pound, “….shall we say a Sunday Special, at two o’clock tomorrow afternoon?” He nodded.

 

“So my straining shaft was stretched substantially,” he said, “with more male milk masturbated. You’ll understand all my agonies were entirely without any orgasm….the dorm’s raison d’être. Then it was Tight Twat’s turn.”

 

“Hello, handsome,” said Tyler Watson, “you do seem to be somewhat hot and bothered….” ha bloody ha, “….Jayjay and I both hail from Year LXXIII, so we managed to miss your Mother….” as indeed she’d said in The Milking Shed, “as you can see, I’ve a pair of the Gonads Gloves….” she flexed her fingers in front of his face, and his penis pulsed, “….I can see you’re looking forward to feeling them already.” All right….which he was. “AHHH….UHHH,” he moaned again and again as the short spikes stimulated his shaft.

 

“Phew….” he said, having narrowly avoided an overtaking oncoming car on the wrong side of the road, “….and fifthly, it was my dearest Mama….” he pursed his lips, “….did you catch the registration….?” she hadn’t, having been in fear of her life for several seconds, “….it was N1 XOF….?” which meant? “….Paula Nixhof, sometime School Secretary, my driving Instructress and actually one of The George Cross’ prefect peers. I’ve enjoyed pulling the knicks off Pull Her Knicks Off, but she and cars don’t get on well….” he shrugged, “….then my Mother appeared, also playing In The Pink. In the best torturers’ tradition, she showed me my forthcoming fate. She arranged a tripod with three withered arms….the third carrying a camera. Then she connected a crocodile clip to my columella nasi….the slip of sensitive skin next to the nostrils. You recall the lettering style used by Zappo?” She nodded.

 

 

Last Newsletter - August 2023

 A very warm welcome to what may be the very last newsletter for St Stricktlands School. Chapter 245 is now being published each Friday and the concluding chapter 246 follows next month. But there’s no need for a September newsletter as there isn’t a chapter 247 in October. So finally we will reach the end of the story. It details Kelly Morgan’s first fuck, and also some of David and Brenda Shagton’s deviances on honeymoon. It finishes with The End, rather than To Be Continued.

 

It’s possible I may be tempted to add another chapter or two, covering the happy couple’s time at the University of Lancashire in their ménage á cinq. But I have several other pressing projects at present, so this is unlikely to happen for the foreseeable future.

 

Meantime I remind all my loyal readers that many previous chapters are available in the Cloud, as attached to this email address. More are being added at intervals, and will continue until the entire book is available on demand. So please contact me for an invitation to view, should you not already be on the system: shimmershone(at)hotmail(dot)com

 

Meantime, a huge hearty heartfelt Thank You for anyone and everyone who’s stayed the course. It’s been almost twenty years since Chapter 1 first appeared, and will certainly be so by the time all chapters are published.

 

So stay well, live long and prosper,

and my very best swishes

 

 

Dave

Chapter 245 - part (1) of (4)

 Summer School – Year LXXXIX

Kelly Morgan stood immediately outside the double doors of the main entrance hall at St Stricktlands School. The clock tower known as Big Ben had just struck for 6.30pm. Life was grand….always assuming one were a guilty girl. Today was her sixteenth birthday, which had been a LONG time coming. Then she respelled the final word with a U, as there was one gift she was expecting for St Valentines Day….David Shagton’s shaft. Mentally, she reappraised the missive she’d made during January.

 

Shagger – I write on behalf of myself and The Ice Maiden. We hope you and your Missus are doing well.

 

Although it was only about six months since they’d left school, she remembered learning in History all about Harold Wilson. The British Premier of old had famously stated how a week was a long time in politics. She’d heard Shagger had married Missus, as expected. She’d have loved to attend the wedding, but apparently it had been an adults only affair. Bloody typical….and her perennial problem. All those deliciously deviant deeds, from which she always seemed to be excluded for no good reason than of age. Shagger and their former fagmistress Samantha Terrier had managed much mischief during Year LXXXVIII. Rarely had she seen any of the seriously sordid stuff.

 

It had been the same the following year when he’d been the prefect, and worked his wicked way through an ever-increasing amount of fuckable floozies. She’d inspected his Cute Cunt Calendar at frequent intervals, and been shocked at the sheer scale of screws. Pretty prefects….well, such sluts were standard. But it was also lots of lovely Lady teachers and several administrative Staff too. Then he’d started a system of separate sessions for evenings and mornings….like Brenda Smith. Still, all this was past. Today was her very own age of consent, and she’d be doing so to everything possible. Bondage….face sitting….testicular torments….cunnie punnie….mmmm. With some reluctance, she cleared her brain from its racy ramblings and returned to her letter.

 

We hope you and Relay will remember your promises made, when you graciously agreed to do the dishonours for us at the appropriate times, with conjugal calls to the Styx.

 

Her favourite friend Karen Eis had indeed been fucked for the first time in February. She’d reckoned on being Relayed first….and Shaggered second, as a traditional threesome. She’d correctly claimed a slit of such stature should command two Cunt Casanovas craving coitus. So The Ice Maiden was duly done and….well, dicked, but she was still stuck on the shelf.

 

I am also delighted to remind you how you kindly assisted me with Caning Training. I shall therefore be able to provide you with Six For Sex, for the privilege of poking pussy.

 

She suspected Sexy Sammy charged a dozen due, but her pussy was particularly popular property. Then there was the teacher Lisa McFee-Sven-Sless, commonly called the cutest cunt at The Styx. By common consent it commanded a full two dozen. According to Shagger, Fuck Me Senseless was worth every whack….and he should know. She remembered how Shagger, in his final term of Year LXXXVIII, had spent increasingly little time in his own dormitory, preferring pretty prefects’ studies.

 

Her morning shower had been horrid, since dorms at The Styx offered only cold water….another nice little refinement which made it the school from hell. Even though at least it was supposed to be hot. Poking was prohibited between pupils, apart from prefects. But there was nothing in the rules which said you couldn’t take advantage of….well, offers from your Elders And Betters, once you were sixteen. So despite still only being one of The Babes In Blue, tools were her ticket to the lands of luxury….with hot water on tap. Shagger would provide her with a perfect pedigree. 

 

We request your kind confirmation about still being in your Cute Cunt Calendar under Forward Fornication. I remain your most obedient, and very soon to be screwed, former junior fag, Kelly.

 

She felt she should be respectful to Shagger somewhere in the letter. There was this dratted sting-in-the-tale tradition at The Styx of Once-A-Fag, Always-A-Fag. Thus he could always administer the agonies onto an aching arse at any time they met. He’d been superlatively strict with her during Year LXXXIX. She remembered how much she’d wanted him to touch up her tush, and finger her fancy. But no, he’d always been the strictly professional fagmaster and….well, strict. But now, he’d have his nuts knackered AND she’d face-sit him. She knew how he enjoyed it….the Bush Telegraph had been explicit. She’d heard on the girls’ grapevine about how he’d had the previous prefect Amanda Holdall’s hiney for hours on end.

 

PS Now I’m sixteen, perhaps I might be privileged to finally see some wedding photos?

 

Since they were OPEN-married, he was absolutely allowed to screw around….as indeed he’d be doing again shortly. During his period In The Pink, he’d bedded a bevy of beauties known as The Magnificent Seven, and apparently maintained contact with most of them. Now she recalled her conversation with the School Secretary of a few days’ previously.

 

“I received a reply from Shagger yesterday….” said Susan Sweet, smiling over her horn-rimmed glasses. He’d once stated they were plain glass, worn simply for effect, “….he recalls his promise to….well, as you so delicately put it, do the dishonours. He and Relay will travel here one weekend in order to sort out Karen Eis….” she winked once, “….and hopefully me, too. Then it’ll be your turn a couple of weeks later….although you’ll simply be Shaggered. But you can use my Flat on both occasions, and I’ll play away.”

 

A rampant rampallion, Shagger had once described her. She’d checked it in the dictionary: a bold, forward and wanton Lady, one which romps. There’d be no shortage of studs, especially those who enjoyed plenty of punishment pain along the perilous path to poking pussy.

 

“What time is Shagger coming, Ma’am?” she asked. “Probably about ten o’clock….” there was a short silence, and she realized Sue Sweet was simply being rude, “….but if you meant, ‘what time is he arriving at the school?’ the answer is around twenty to seven, since his train is due at 6:25pm….” she blushed, “….off you go, and good luck with the fuck.” She hoped it wouldn’t make her too unpopular with her dorm mates….except the sun will rise in the west. Shagger had always been wildly unpopular in The Six Wankers for much the same reason of sheer jealousy. Still, there was nothing stopping the other sluts from sourcing their own screwing solutions. Alas, she could still see herself stripped starkers and stretched out on the dorm floor for the Cunt Claw. It wasn’t so much their index fingers forced up the fancy, but when they painfully pulled and parted her pubic hair.

 

Abruptly, her mental musings were terminated by some sort of sport car approaching at some speed along the carriage drive. Hadn’t The SS talked of a train, in which case shouldn’t he be hoofing it from the station? Her eyes followed its approach, and it was a four-seater open-top convertible. When it reached the graded gravel, she could see its personalized vehicle registration plate of PEN 1S. Her heart leaped, since Shagger was at the wheel. It stopped opposite the double doors and he emerged, holding a bunch of red roses. He was wearing what she knew to be called a Smart suit. It was extremely expensively tailored black pinstripe, bespoke Savile Row stuff. Then there was a suitably silky white shirt with black tie, plus matching black shiny shoes. Certainly he seemed every inch the Superior Sir. “Happy birthday, Kelly,” he said, presenting them to her, plus a small package, “with my best swishes.” What wonderful wit. “Oh….SIR,” she faltered, “you shouldn’t have.” He winked once. “Which,” he replied, “is what Ladies are always telling me….” very good….but poking was the point of the present proceedings, “….although there’s no necessity for any salutation.” Which would make matters easier. “Mmmm,” she moaned, holding him hard and kissing him, even as several celestial cymbals sounded. She’d wanted to do this for so long, right from his original Autumn Arrival Afternoon, way back in Year LXXXVIII. Then their tongues intertwined.

 

She was well aware how his had seen so much sin….with sluts’ seats and slits. So now hers had touched those tushes and twats too….second-hand. It was like the old song, ‘I danced with a man who danced with a girl who danced with the Prince of Wales.’ However, it was time she showed him some Superiority. Carefully, she brought up her right knee….WHUMPHH “….UGHHH,” he moaned as she kneed his nuts. “Karen’s kind compliments,” she said, “she says to remember her to you.” Slowly, he straightened. “I could hardly forget her….huhh,” he gasped, “since it’s only a fortnight from her….huhh….first fuck.”

 

Quite correct. “Yes,” she agreed, “she described David’s distended dick in detail.” He waved towards the car. “Shall we go?” he asked, “it’s about an hour’s drive to The Stern Maiden, and we can chat along the way. I’ll be generous and let you off all Questions and Disrespectful References.” So it was definitely to be a romantic dinner, like her favourite friend had enjoyed. “I was wondering how it would work,” she said as they climbed inside, “since this is Relay’s car. Obviously its plate is perfect for what was the self-professed purveyor of penis.” He smiled as they started away.

 

“We both drove here from Lancaster to melt The Ice Maiden,” he explained wittily, “and returned by train, leaving his car at the station….” Ohh, “….I’ll drive it back to the University on Sunday.” She pursed her lips. “I’d heard they didn’t allow undergraduates parking facilities on campus, Shagger,” she suggested. “It’s not a problem when one’s Patron is Chancellor,” he replied airily, “and a permit arrived readily….” he paused, “….although Ray’s also given him the same quid pro quo as me….” a Reciprocal Exchange, “….with a monthly spanking and swishing session in a No Tell hotel….something I’ll ask you to keep in confidence. Needless to say, The Terror Twins were similarly sold into slavery for screwing….” his ménage-à-trois, “….but since they’re such sluts, it’s hardly an imposition….” he paused, “….I’m covered on Ray’s insurance policy as a named driver.”

 

It appeared he’d fallen on his feet….or floozies? “How’s your ménage-à-cinq, Shagger?” she asked, sourly, “are their any problems with one of them actually being your wonderful wedded….well, very Open-Wife?” He shook his head. “We’re managing fine,” he replied, “and they all similarly session with Sir Digby Vaillance. He’s really very pleased with the way it’s turned out. Having a harem of humpable harlots is his idea of heaven….and mine too. As firm friends, Ray and I lend each other our lovely Ladies, so I’m still screwing Sammy and Pats’ pussies for periodic poking.” Nice work if you can get it….they slowed, reaching the main entrance gates, and passing beneath the wrought-iron arches. Then he stopped and turned onto the public highway. Very soon they passed by StricktlandS HalT, and also the entrance to Stern Hall. The wind whistled whilst he accelerated along the B1469, and she saw they’d reached 60mph. “I’d be fascinated to find out about Karen’s first fuck from the floozy’s perspective,” he said, “so spill the beans.” Fair enough.

 

It was the morning after the night before, and she’d been Relayed. But now she’d screw Shagger’s shaft. She’d been sleeping starkers with them both, and arose at the sound of Big Ben striking for 7am. “We’ll get going,” she said in her seductive soprano, nudging them both into awakening, “and it’s time to take tool….again. It seems his straining shaft is ready for action….and so am I….” she flexed her fingers, “….he’s a plums pain pervert, and I’m one of The Knackerers….” dorm 5K for Year XC, “….so he should spurt with some simultaneous sex and suffering. You both paid your deposits last year, so the balance owing is six strokes….” her cunt currency having been set at a dozen due, “….and Relay can also apply agonies.”

 

He collected a cane, even as Shagger rolled on top of her. “I’ve been wanting to do this to the dead-clever dark-haired damsel ever since Autumn arrival afternoon in Year LXXXVIII,” he admitted, priming his penis. Then she tickled his testicles and encouraged the scrotum to separate. “Ohh,” he moaned as she took both balls between finger and thumb. “Knacker my nuts whilst I fuck your fancy,” he urged, “Ahhh….Ahhh….UHHH,” he added as her pussy was penetrated. “UHHH,” she echoed….SWISHHHTHWACKKK “….One, thank you Sir….UHHH,” he gasped from stroke one of his Sex Thrashing.

 

“It seems you spunked her slit on six, Shagger,” she said, “nothing if not nice and tidy.” He smiled sweetly. “She’s always cultivated a crisp kind of snappy sexiness,” he confirmed, “and will make an excellent disciplinary Domme. Somehow I could see her as a teacher, too.” Quite correct. “Tell me about Summer School,” she urged, “since it’s always been shrouded in mystery. It’s your turn to dish the dirt….” if not discipline, “….on some of the deviant deeds done in the duration.”

 

He licked his lips. “It’s a sort of St Sticks for adults,” he explained, “where august alumni revisit the rattan. They can share stick with other generations….both my parents played In The Pink. I also met up with several other Sometime Scholars from yesteryear. So we’ll start on Arrival Afternoon. It was just after three o’clock on Saturday when my dad and I arrived, seven days before my wedding. My Mother had also attended the previous week, playing as prefect. She’d travelled by train, but we’d driven and put OHW 6M into the public park. The initials are her Maiden name of Olivia Helen Whapshott, and The Six Milkers. Then a swish sports car parked next to us….1 NNN.”

 

“Hello, Noah….” said his philandering father as they all emerged. His suitcase could stay until his honeymoon, however he’d have his pink bag. It would do for toiletries, and also any exercise books during the week. They all shook hands, “….good to meet with you again….” they knew each other, having both fagged for The Hard Man in Year LXVII, “….is this your first session of Summer School? I don’t recall you around previously….” NO NO NO nodded. “Yes, George,” he replied, as they started towards the main entrance hall, “I was convinced by the idea when I inveigled myself onto your son’s somewhat super Schoolboy Sojourn.” Nice to know, “….in which case, the first thing you should both know is the revised responses. As you’ll appreciate, everyone’s actually an adult, which means much more posterior punishment is promulgated. So when staccato strikes are used, which is almost always, it’s special sets of Wild West Words: Yippee..Yi..YO for three, and Yippee..Yi..Yay..YEEEE, for four….” he smiled, “….unless it’s been seven or eleven, in which case YEZZ.” Now they approached the double doors, and stepped inside. Uh..huh….as he saw one the Registration Monitors wearing an especially evil grin.

 

“Over here, Shagger….” called out Matt Conran, gesturing towards him, and they approached, “….on Departure Day, you waltzed away in a Roller, doing your infernal impersonation of Lord Muck….” Oops, “….not so cocky, are we?” He shook his head. “No, Sir,” he replied humbly, “I’m a much nicer person, now.” As indeed the mythical Hans Gruber had once claimed. He’d been a horrid henchman in the seriously sexist sixties spy spoof, Our Man Flint. But then the super-stud secret agent had a harem of four permanent playmates, so he was only following in Derek’s footsteps.

 

“I’ve had a word with your fearsome fagmaster,” he said, “for a swap at some stage. I shall enjoy taking you down, and putting you properly in your place….” but who WAS he? “….it’s Manitoba Hardcastle, Level 6 in study eighdeen….” pardon me? “....they’ve all been dozenalized….” so twenty in old money. But screw Sue Sweet, since he’d suspected she’d allocate him to someone on the last level, “….who says you’ve already met. Apparently he’s Dean of Psychology at Lancashire, where it seems you’re studying in September….damn your distended dick….” he paused, “….you must be Shagton, George, since the family resemblance is plain….and it’s The Hard Man for you too. Change into your Summer School uniform….” the Naked Waiter wear, “….before reporting for fagging. Sodding Shagger’s in dorm 6X, and daddy’s in dorm 6C, which I suppose were your choice….?” they both nodded, “….at least it means you’ve finally stopped using my old one as an inverse sin of pride, following your rustication in the Autumn Term of Year LXXXIX. You’ve no idea how irritating it was….” yes he did, since it was specifically in order to annoy the incumbents, “….you’d have done well in dorm 6X, when you were properly In The Pink….” so he’d been told often enough, “….and your lockers are №s 8Φ and 8┼ ….” eight dozen ten, and eleven, “….who’s this other sinful specimen? His face is familiar, although I can’t think why.” NO NO NO shrugged.

 

“Please, Sir,” he said, “It’s Nolan-Noakes, Noah, and I’m also expecting to be one of The Six X-hibiti♂nists. But I attended St Sticks rather more recently on the first of Shagger’s Schoolday Sojourns.” There was a slight smile. “Another exhibitionist,” he sniffed, “the same as sodding Shagger, so you’ll make good dorm mates. You’re fagging for Tibold Runt, Level 4 in study fourdeen….” he went white, so again this must be a known quantity? “….and locker № 90:….” nine dozen, next to theirs, “….now we’ll give sodding Shagger an erection inspection….so it’s Knackerpants down….” he lowered them, and his shaft strained skyward, “….a Stiffie Salute, it seems. Bend over for a beating, bad boy.” He dropped his bag and assumed the Position, aware of an appreciative audience.

 

Swishhhhthwackkkkk    Swishhhhthwackkkkk    Swishhhhthwackkkkk     

“Yippee..Yi..YO,” he gasped, “thank you for swishing me so soon, Sir. I’m sorry for such a sordid sight.” There were several smiles. “Disappear, Shagger,” snarled the prefect, “and remember, I ain’t done with you yet. Just think of it as a first instalment.” Slowly he stood. “Ahhh….” he gasped as the hem of his Knackerpants abraded his arse, “….uhhh,” he added as the coarse velcro material interfered with his erection. Then he picked up his bag, and they continued out of the main entrance hall. “What was the cretin’s name, Shagger?” asked NO NO NO, “and apart from his dorm, which I’d hazard a guess at 6N, how have you annoyed him?” They started into the first of the long, dark cold corridors.

 

“He’s Matthew Conran,” he replied, “or rather Rat Conman, in accordance with the malicious malapropism. He was indeed once one of The Six Nasties. Amongst other things, he failed to get a good offer for Lancashire….whereas I did. Then he inadvertently insulted Sir Digby Vaillance. I was assisting our newest Governor with a fact-finding mission, whilst we were both playing In The Pink. After applying our Curfew Canings, he opined how the Chancellor was most likely a geriatric totally out-of-touch elderly idiot. Alas, all Admissions appeals go across his desk. Inevitably, this was deemed to be all my fault.” NO NO NO nodded. “It’s not good news for me either,” he said, “….as you’re aware, I had The Hard Man as junior fag whilst one of The Little X-pletives,  but it was Tyrant three years later. He’s only 5’2” tall, so the surname suits. But he has a massive chip on his shoulder over his stature. He’s a Dominant dolt, having hailed from dorm 6Y as one of The Six Reas♂ns Y♂u’re F♂r It. I shall be in for a rough ride….” he shrugged, “….but at least it’s only a week, and not a Year Of Hell.”

 

“We reached the Dorm wings entrance hall,” he said, “and the Curfew Monitor’s desk, unoccupied at this early hour. I checked the Wankometer console and discovered it had been unplugged. So almost anyone had been ahead of me….” he glanced at her, “….enabling everyone in the Senior dorms wing to engage in the time-hallowed tradition of Lick-And-A-Promise….” she nodded, knowingly, “….anyway, we headed upstairs. I was huffing and puffing by the time we reached the Level 6 landing….so Have A Thrash was right. As you know, she’s continually claimed I’m out of condition. There was a parting of the ways, when dad and I agreed to meet back in a quarter of an hour. He continued clockwise along the quadrangle corridor to The Six Canees. By contrast, NO NO NO and I took a little lævorotatorial leaning, as Richard Merryweather would say….” counter-clockwise, “….and reached our destination on the fourth quadrant a couple of minutes later.”

 

Dorm 6X

The Six X-hibiti♂nists

 

They stepped inside to see four further felons had already arrived, and were inspecting the Wankometer with obvious distaste. All had high heels and clip-on bowties, whereas one also wore a Short Shirt. “Greetings, guys,” he said breezily, “presumably it’s only beds E and B left….?” there were four neat nods, “….had we a volunteer for captain, in bed A?” The middle-aged man with the Short Shirt raised his hand. “I’ve taken it on,” he replied, “by dint only of seniority. I’m John Nottout, normally known as Howzat….” what wit, “….from Year XLII….” good grief, the dark ages, “….I don’t know either of you two by sight, so could you introduce yourselves before we all….well, shake on it?”

 

Force It In cleared his throat. “I’ll do so for my firm friend, Sir,” he said, “since this will be his first foray into this dastardly dorm….” like Wanker Boy Will, he was once one of The Six Wankers, “….it’s David Shagton and William Shanks. We always shake shafts here, chaps….” Ohh, “….so show us your seven inches of circumcised sin, Shagger.” He could already see Iron Will’s….well, iron will with his eight inches of erotic enjoyment. Then he dropped his overnight bag onto bed E. Such as it was, he’d unpack presently. They folded their Knackerpants neatly, as the other adopted bed B. “I’m in bed D, Shagger,” said Wanker Boy Will, “so we’re neighbours again.” As indeed they’d been in dorm 6W.

 

“I’m Noah Nolan-Noakes, normally NO NO NO,” said his companion, “of Year LXX. I’m afraid there’s still three of you chaps I don’t know.” Not for long. “I’m Indiana Fawcett,” he confirmed, “from Year LXXXVII, and bed C. I rather relish rape, as Force It In implies….but only of the consensual kind. Greetings, Shagger….glad you’re on board. I rather recall the last occasion we met socially was on an Equestrienne Entertainment Evening, hosted by Have A Thrash. We did a Tug Of Balls together….so didn’t need a St Stickshake.” He remembered it well. “Hello again, Shagger,” said the final felon, “Tyler introduced us informally during Farmyard Fun and Frolics last term. I was on a wall in The Milking Shed….” yes, “….but heard you discussing our home-made AudioVisual Records. As you’d expect, a lot of them are all about exposure and exhibitionism. I’ve brought a batch, plus player, so we can watch them when we wish….perhaps this evening….” or tomorrow? “….and hello to Noah. I’m Gerald Winklebotham in bed F, from Year LXXIII….Winkler again for the week….

 

“Is he related to Winker….or rather Wanker Watson?” she asked, “one of The Wimps as was in dorm 1W. He who requested receipt of the rattan on his rear, and you gave him his first formal fanny flogging in front of your fags….” she giggled, “….afterwards I took him into the shower room, and showed him some slit. He Leched Longingly Like A Loser, stroked his straining shaft and gave himself a dry cum….” she paused, “….in reverse circumstances it probably wouldn’t have been allowed.” Though as always, the lovely Ladies were allowed a lot more latitude. “Yes,” he agreed, “they gave their son what was once his own nickname.”

 

….I took my Wife’s name on marriage….” he’d have done so, too, “….who’s reappraising her role as one of The Six Milkers.” Oo..er….yes, MA’AM. “I assume JayJay’s not with us?” he enquired. “No,” he replied, “you’ve missed him, since he had to work this week. However the other JayJay’s still here.” Their favourite friends….with John Jones also having been hooked up to the milking machinery, and Joan another émigrée from dorm 6M.

 

“So we spent several minutes shaking each others’ straining shafts,” he said, “which was incredibly erotic, as you may imagine. Then Noah and I made our Licks-And-Promises in front of the new dorm captain. He went first, and then it was my turn to take tool.”

 

He knelt in front of a pulsing penis. “Please, Sir,” he said, affording him his salutation, “I promise to be a good boy, and not bring the dorm into disrepute.” Although by any standards it was already pretty disreputable. Then he leaned forward towards the offered organ. “Uhhh….uhhh….” moaned John Nottout, “….thank you Shagguhhh, I appreciate it. Do stand….” he did so, “….I hope the money my company pays you each month will assist your University education….or at least beer, books and Bimbos….” pardon me? “….I’m Sales Director of Sex Spikes Ltd….” Ohh, “….and you earn a two per gross permanent commission on sodding Shagger’s natty new Seats of Learning….” several faces registered doubt, “….specially constructed rubber mats, featuring a fine matrix of short semi-sharp steel spikes, similar to our Pillow Punishment Points Of Pain.

 

 I gave your dearest Aunt Marge the same deal as for Ava Frasch….” the former having handled his negotiations, “….with her GIM uniform….” Garments Inciting Misery, “….neither of which we’ve ever needed to advertise, since they sell so well in schools….” as indeed he’d signed up St Bowlers, “….don’t you ever check your bank statements….?” maybe he ought to do so? “….up until relatively recently the money went into your parents’ account. But then they advised me you’d opened with the NATIONAL PROVINCIAL BANK, so now we send it to you direct. You can pick out the payments easily enough, since they state Spikes as the reference. It’s in order not to offend anyone’s delicate sensibilities in banking circles….” he smiled suddenly, “….I’m looking forward for further frolics with Ava. We once completed coitus in our Company car park, when I had a thrash from Have A Thrash….” very good, “….and this week I’m hoping to be in one of her classes….” he paused again, “….has anyone else here humped her?”

 

Two hands were raised….his and Force It In, “….which is fair, as she was only appointed Head of PT in Year LXXXVIII. But she’s lean lithe and luscious, with a particular penchant for married men.” Including his dastardly dad. “Since you’re wearing a Short Shirt, Sir,” he said, “does it mean you’re doing a Detention this evening? Although I don’t quite understand how it could be possible….unless this is your second week?” The older man shook his head. “Undone Detentions at Summer School are carried forward,” he said sadly, “to whenever one attends next. This one dates from four years ago, and it’s been a sword of Damocles ever since. So I suggest you try not to be dished one next Friday.” He’d bear it in mind….although there was very little to be done about it. “The Shirts date from a relatively recent Deposition by my firm friend Harry Herbert Orwell, Sir….” and third cousin, “….however I apologise in advance for your hour of an aching arse. It’s for detainees to….well, get the point of their punishment….” he glanced up at the clock, and his time was up, “….I must away, since I promised to meet my philandering father five minutes ago. Doubtless we’ll have time to talk later….unless everyone’s social whirl meaning they’re frequenting floozies….” there were several grins, “….or maybe it might be at the Monitor’s desk, for Curfew Caning.”

 

“So I unpacked what little I’d brought, including my pink bag of books, which I’d need for most lessons. Out of hours, it would live in my locker….well, you how the system works….” she did indeed, “….I put on my pink clip-on bowtie and high-heeled shoes, and Howzatt handed over our timetables for the week. Then I left them to it, and returned rapidly to the Level 6 landing, where dad was waiting. I’d expected him to be upset, but it turned out he too had taken longer than expected. He’d met up with several seriously submissive scholars, including the legendary Gung Ho Fook, who was one of The Hard Man’s contemporaries in Year LXVI. But Oh Fuck’s claim to fame was being the inventor of the Disciplinary Darts Board for his General Studies project. It’s taken several years off my life….especially after your favourite friend gave our gonads a go the other week.”

 

She smiled. “Karen didn’t mention it,” she muttered, “so you can tell all during dinner.” How she’d succeeded in sourcing it was anyone’s guess. “Then there was John Cratchett of Year LXXII,” he continued, “I’d heard of him once before. My Mentor had mentioned caning him on the very day Sir Digby Vaillance saw The Styx for the first time. There were also a couple of….well, canees from Year LXXXVII. It was Xavier Atlee and Alfred Alpha, both of whom you may remember. Mister X and Alfalfa were both organizers of the same Equestrienne Entertainment Evening which I mentioned before. Aristotle Squamish was the fifth felon, with my dad making up the number. They wanted him to be captain, again on grounds of seniority but he declined, so Scratch It stepped up to the bar. Anyway, time was pressing, and we headed away to the Prefects’ Study wing. It took some time, negotiating all the empty echoing stone steps whilst wearing high heels. Finally we reached the base, and strutted into the long, dark cold corridors.” 

 

shoddy service spanking

Chapter 244 - part (4) of (4)

 Reformation

 The Tight Diam♀nd

She opened the door and he followed her inside, before setting down his clothes. Clearly, she was still heavily into knackering and the wall posters were still of studs in poses of pain. He shivered slightly at a large picture of two very rugged-looking wrestlers, clearly going after each other’s best bits. “The Backbreaker Submission Position,” he opined, pointing towards it, “and inversion in incredible inferiority. Could I offer my organs accordingly?” She nodded, and bent down on one knee.

 

Carefully, he draped himself backwards over it, with his shoulders and feet firmly on the floor. “AHHH….AHHH….” he gasped as his nuts were knackered, “….I’ve submitted and signed your Sheet, but don’t let it stop you from squeezing my scrotum….AHHH….” apparently, it wouldn’t, “….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….SALLY….me balls....AYEEEEE.”

 

He took a deep breath, whilst his world wavered. “Now it’s time to demand my dues,” she said, with obvious enthusiasm. “AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH,” he gasped as this time his scrotum was stretched, “AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AYEEEEE….I am your stretch slave, MA’AM.” He glanced up at her, and saw her chest heaving. “Such fun,” she said with another sniff, “I think we’ll do it all again….several times.” Somehow he couldn’t see a similar success story with Roderick?

 

It was seven separate sets of squeezes and stretches later when she finally finished. “I can see some semen seeping, Shagger,” she said happily, “so it seems we’ve both enjoyed the erotic experience. I’m good at knackering nuts, even if I say so myself.” Unexpectedly, a mental picture of The Ice Maiden appeared in his brain. “Most definitely, Ma’am,” he said instead, rolling slowly onto the floor, whilst quivering quietly….SMACKK SMACKK “….Oww,” he gasped.

 

“No lounging around, Shagger,” she said, “since time is short, and Mum will be waiting for willy. Perhaps you might please pussy? I’ll agree it’s something with which subbies and switches do have an edge. As you say, Dominant dolts do have an abysmal attitude in the area of oral appreciation.” He nodded. “I don’t think I did a great deal in this direction when I relieved you of your virginity last year,” he mused, “but this time round, my tongue is yours for as many orgasms as you wish….” she smiled slightly, “….what’s your preference for position?”

 

She pursed her lips. “We’ll adjourn to my bed,” she said, “with pussy propped up on a pillow. Then afterwards you can be all luvvy-duvvy, and make me in the Missionary Position.” Easily achieved, and always give the lovely Lady what she wants. As indeed his former unofficial Tutress, Alice Tetsworth had told him often enough. Tits Worth had many a mint of other helpful hints for humping harlots, and they’d so often been proved correct.

 

She strutted across the room, and turned down the bedcovers. Then she shifted a pillow so it was placed horizontally, half way down. Then she lay down, and he knelt between her lovely legs. “Yess,” he whispered as he unzipped the fastener at the front, followed by those at each side. Now he was able to lift the flaps of material more easily. “Spread your legs….my dear,” he ordered, “so I can successfully suck slit.” She did so at once. “UHHH,” she moaned as he licked her labial lips experimentally. “There’s no need for any long licks to get you going, my dear,” he said, “which go from forest and fancy to fanny. It’s already wet….so all the knackering of nuts has turned on your tight twat.”

 

She closed her eyes, and opened her mouth fetchingly before grabbing the bed rails in both hands. Despite her previous protestations, the gesture was in itself rather reminiscent of bondage. Thoughts of prison bars, and cages, flashed across his overheated brain. However this wasn’t the time or place to make an issue of it. “UHHH….UHHH….UHHH….” she moaned as he delved deep, and nuzzled her naughtiness with his nose, “….UHHH….UHHH….UHHH.”

 

He wasn’t about to bite her….although he’d do so with dearest Mama, since she was one for a bit clit. Nevertheless, he could still suck it into his mouth. “UHHH….UHHH….UHHH….” she moaned as he duly did so, “….OMG Shagger….I’m cumming….UHHH….I’m cumming….” she was shaking all over, “….UHHH….YESS….YESS….YESS.” Patiently, he waited for her eyes to open. “Again,” she said huskily, as he bowed to the inevitable.

 

This time it was eight orgasms later before they were finished, and he hoped his Hostess wouldn’t mind the wait until it was her turn? “Uhhh….screw me, Shagguhhhh….” she moaned, still somewhere on Cloud Nine, “….uhhh,” she repeated as very gently he pushed his pulsing penis passed her pussy. This was an erotic experience he’d not expected to enjoy again. Then he lay down on top of her, and inch by inch his tool took her tight twat. “Mmmm,” she moaned as he kissed her, gently.

 

 

She held his head in place, so clearly it was appreciated. “Uhhh….fuck my fancy for me….uhhh,” she moaned, “hump it hard….uhhh….and don’t stop till you spunk….” he concentrated on quadratic equations, in order to ensure she came first….so to speak, “….UHHH….UHHH….UHHH….UHHH….YESS….YESS….YESS.” Now it was finally his tool’s turn so seek some satisfaction from her slit. “UHHH….UHHH….UHHH,” he moaned, “this is….UHHH….where you get your….well….cumuppance my dear….Mmmm….” he kissed her again, even as he felt himself falling over the edge, “….YESS….YESS,” he moaned, spurting strongly, “YESS….YESS,” she echoed from yet another orgasm. Slowly he waited until the room had stopped spinning.

 

He raised his rear, and his soft shaft slipped out. Then he shimmied off the bed. “Here’s a tissue for your tool,” she murmured, taking two from her bedside cabinet, and using one on herself. “All right, you Cocky Little Blighter,” she said sulkily, “sex IS a whole lot better after any amount of oral appreciation….although studs who’ll offer it are few and far between.” He mopped down his manhood.

 

“As I’ve said before,” he replied, “you should source some subbies or switches, rather than Dominant dolts. By way of an example, Dishy Dez from St Dudes has done Lyn before now….” they were both skirt sinners under the skin, “….and I don’t think she had any complaints about his competence. I understand he’s been here for Some Schooling With A Suitably Strict Slant, so you can ask your Mother for his contact details. He’ll have just left St Judes School, since he was in my year. So if he’s attending University, you’ll have to hurry….” he was wasting his time, since she was asleep. Carefully, he removed the pillow and replaced it to its proper place. Then he covered her over, and crept quietly towards the door. Then he continued out onto the landing towards his destination.

 

The Classroom

quoniam nequam pueri et puellae injuriosum

 

It was coarse Latin, For Bad boys And Guilty Girls, with a design modelled on St Sticks. As he stepped inside, he saw a sinful schoolgirl sitting at a desk. Clearly, she was busy writing Lines. “Time’s up, Limmitz,” he said, “how many sheets have you achieved?” He doubted she’d have finished. “Please, Sir,” she replied, with the so-called swishees’ smirk, “it’s only three, Sir.” It was often offered by culpable canees in class, as a prelude to public punishment. It was the one which says wanly, ‘I know how much my hit hiney will hurt,’ and absolutely apt for the action.

 

“Strip starkers,” he ordered, “and step out here. It will be three strokes, in the staccato style.” He watched whilst she folded them neatly to the floor….as an august alumna, or sometime scholar of St Sticks, she too knew the form. “Bend over,” he ordered, picking up a cane, “nice and tight.” The same as HER twat, too.

 

Swishhhthwackkkk    Swishhhthwackkkk    Swishhhthwackkkk  

“Yeee..EEEE..HEEE....THREE, thank you, SIR,” she yelped, “I’m sorry I failed to finish, Sir.” Any more for any more? “Would you pass an erection inspection?” he enquired, “No, Sir,” she replied, “my nipples are naughty, Sir.” He nodded. “Three for the Thrill Of A Thrashing,” he said, “which is a new caning phrase, as recently introduced at The Styx.” By him, as it happened, and originating from St Bodlians School in Rugby.

 

Swishhhthwackkkk    Swishhhthwackkkk    Swishhhthwackkkk  

“Yikes....YIKES....YIKES....SIX, thank you, SIR,” she gasped, “you’re so Masterful, Sir. I admit to always having fancied a flogging from you....even though for many years the likelihood seemed low.” With good reason, bearing in mind what a basket-case he’d once been. “I’ve always enjoyed the thought of thrashing you,” he agreed, “well before I was able to wield the weapon. However I avoided wanking worthlessly, on the grounds it wasn’t at all appropriate with a respectable married Lady. Obviously I wasn’t aware you’re simply a sex slut....even worse than my Mother.” She giggled girlishly, and wiggled her waist. “So what’s stopping you, Sir?” she asked, provocatively. “Nothing,” he agreed, “so three more whacks....Incitement, a caneable Question....one of sheer cheek, and also Impertinently Imparting Information.”   

 

Swishhhthwackkkk    Swishhhthwackkkk    Swishhhthwackkkk

“Yaroooh..HOOH..OOH,” she gasped, sounding so much like sex, “NINE....a nasty nine, thank you so much, SIR. I was guilty as charged on all counts, and the Lines were spot-on.” So what was next? “Perhaps we should adjourn next door?” he asked. “Most certainly, Sir,” she replied, “where there’s a Cunnie Punnie bench, for the precise purpose of punishing pussies which poke.” He nodded, returning the cane to the teacher’s desk....SMACKK “....Oww,” she gasped as he applied a seriously Sexist smack. “Get going, guilty girl,” he ordered as she got, and he followed her across the room....SMACKK “....Oww.” Their destination had been a matter of mystery to him for many years, until he’d finally been allowed inside. It was essentially a torture parlour, mostly for mere males.

 

The Dante Room

Hic omnes spes ingredientibus

 

Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here....in accordance with the sentiments of the original Inferno. She pushed open the door, and he entered behind her. Uh..huh….since this was where her long-suffering spouse had ended up....spread-eagled starkers on a St Andrews Cross “Presumably you finished the washing up first?” he asked sourly. “Yes, Sir,” he replied, “and tidied the kitchen thoroughly. Even so, Ma’am managed to find fault....and then found her favourite French flogger.” She winked once. “Which was before I switched, Sir,” she said. “I don’t see many marks,” he said, looking at his shoulders and seat.”

 

The older man shivered. “The martinet mostly met my male meat, Sir,” he replied, “bearing in mind Ma’am’s pedigree at school.” Dear me yes….since she’d hailed from the six knackerers in dorm 6K. “Like Mother like daughter, it appears,” he said, “and obviously also your sinful son....” John-Boy, his favourite friend, “....who’s likewise knackered my nuts more often than I can care to remember. Anyway, you’ll be pleased to learn I’ve paid for the privilege of poking your wonderful open-Wife’s private parts this evening....a process which you should see shortly. However there’s tomorrow morning, so you can be my whipping boy in addition to cuckold....” she handed him the offending item, with its eighteen ribbed rubber tails, “....a dozen due, in accordance with her cunt currency....in pairs.” Thwackkk Thwackkk “....AHHH....”  Thwackkk Thwackkk “....AHHH,” he gasped as his shoulders were strafed....Thwackkk Thwackkk “....AHHH....” Thwackkk Thwackkk “....AHHH,” he repeated as they struck his seat.

 

“Don’t forget his scrotum, Sir,” she said, stroking herself where she shouldn’t. Her mouth was wide open, with an expression of ecstasy. It was almost akin to the harridans of old who’d enjoyed watching the guillotine during the French revolution, and a sort of Schadenfreude....Thwapp Thwapp “....UGHHH....” Thwapp Thwapp “....UGHHH,” he moaned in acute agony. “You’re next....” he said, as her smile switched off like a light, “....get yourself onto the bench.” She padded across to it, lay down, and looped her legs over the two verticals. “Richard Merryweather has one of these in his study at The Styx....” he said, shackling her wrists and ankles to the wooden frame, “....and I’ve used it on occasion, with his kind connivance. Presumably you’ve done so as well?” She shivered slightly, obviously in fond memories. “Yes, Sir,” she replied, “Big Dick’s done me on it....before doing me with his big dick.”

 

Why was he not surprised? “It’ll be cuts to the crotch until you climax,” he said, “knowing you’re yet another pussy pain pervert. I know you’ve no limits....No Limmitz. Then it’ll be a suitably sore slit for screwing.” This time the shivers were in anticipation....Thwapp Thwapp “....UGHHH....me cunt....me cunt,” she moaned, struggling against the shackles. It achieved nothing, as always....Thwapp  Thwapp “....UGHHH....harder, Sir....huhh....hit it HARDER.” Always happy to help....THWAPP THWAPP “....URGHHH...OMG I’m cumming....YESS....YESS.” So not precisely a punishment? “Again?” he asked politely. “Y..Yes please, Sir,” she replied, her chest heaving, “hit the clit MUCH more, Sir.”

 

It was three cums later before she decided her slit was sufficiently sore. “Huhh....Sir,” she moaned, “my tight twat’s totally turned on.....huhh....ravish and rape me....huhh....show me you care.” Obviously of the consensual kind, since she’d actually asked the action. “Now it’s time for you to take my tool,” he said sternly, setting down the martinet, “and it’ll show your spouse who’s the Superior Sir.” Which was what cuckolding was all about. “Screw her slit soundly, Sir,” he suggested from the cross, so at least everyone was happy. “UHHH....SIR,” she moaned as her pussy was peremptorily poked. As before, when doing her darling daughter, he’d endeavour to ensure her naughty needs....well, came first. “UHHH....Shagguhhh,” she moaned, “I’m cumming.....UHHH....YESS....YESS.” So at last it was his tool’s turn. “UHHH....UHHH,” he moaned as he humped her hard. Somehow screwing was more fun with an appreciative audience....especially when humping hubby’s harlot.

 

“UHHH….UHHH….UHHH….I love you so much, Jeanie,” he moaned. “Uhhh….you Cunt Casanovas are all the same, Sir….uhhh,” she replied, “charmer..uhh..s, the lot of you.” She should know, having sampled so many at The Styx over the years. He was well aware of being only the latest in a VERY long line of lovers….which included Raymond Lee. There’d been the occasion when he’d reported to her study, in the Spring Term of Year LXXXVIII. He’d only been delivering Lines, but his firm friend was enjoying a Sunday Special. Still, at least now any residual feelings of jealousy should be assuaged. “UHHH….UHHH….” he moaned happily, even as some celestial cymbals started sounding.

 

It was odd how this hadn’t happened with Sexy Sally, but he wouldn’t worry with the whys, “UHHH….YESS….I’m spunking….YESS….YESS….YESS.” He held onto her thighs to steady himself until the room had done so. “Not bad,” she said wryly, “six spurts, into what was a second slit.” Slowly, his soft shaft slipped out. “There’s some tissues by the Rack, Sir,” put in Dai Diamond, “I often need them, for when she stretches some semen….in addition to everything else.” Very fucking funny. “Thanks,” he replied, helping himself to two such. “Uhhh….” he moaned, whilst wiping his willy, “….thank you, Sir….huhh,” she added as her sore slit was stroked.

 

Then he released all her shackles, and she sat up slowly, rubbing her wrists. “Did you do Dai?” he enquired, “as Sally suggested?” She shook her head. “Nope,” she replied, “although he was pleased to poke pussy, whilst wearing a strap-on dildo head-harness. He can contemplate coitus from the confines of a cage….in fearful frustration beneath the bed.” Although apparently he’d once had it far worse….left locked inside a KTB for the entire term when she’d been supply teacher. How horrendously humbling would it have been, knowing one’s spouse was screwing a selection of studs at The Styx? “Ohh….ohh,” he moaned upon release from the St Andrews Cross.

 

“Shall we go, Jeanie?” he asked, offering his hand. “Surely, Sir,” she replied, accepting it. Together they returned to The Classroom, with Dai Diamond following humbly. Next it was out onto the landing, and along to their bedroom at the far end. He stood aside at the door, and waved her ahead with a slight bow. He might be a Superior Sir, but there was no reason not to be gallant….Smackk “….Oww,” gasped his host, having his seat smacked as he too passed by. “I didn’t mean you, bad boy,” he growled. “So sorry, Sir,” he said, leaning forward slightly, “more, Sir,” he implored….SMACKK SMACKK “….OWW….thank you, Sir.” She switched on the bedside light, and there was the slave cage as claimed. He’d seen it when he’d bedded her once before. However The Double Diamond had been playing away, so it hadn’t been occupied.

 

“Does it have a time lock, Jeanie?” he enquired, “since I saw one of these in operation a short while ago?” She smiled sweetly. “Was it with fuckable Fleur?” she asked, “since I know she cuckolds Mission Jim.” Her hubby, James, “Yes,” he replied, “the very same, and I was able to wish him a very good morning….Mr Phelps….” with the witticism based around the ancient TV programme of Mission: Impossible, “….which was immediately before leaving for London, and thence the Pennance Reformatory, as I described earlier.” There were two sniggers, even as Dai Diamond crawled into the slave cage.

 

“But in answer to your query,” she said, “it’s a Yes, and I’ve set it to open at six o’clock tomorrow morning….” Rise And Shine, “….for him to prepare us both some breakfast in bed. Then we’ll enjoy some more erotic entertainment, although this time I daresay it’ll be with me as a disciplinary Domme….” he wouldn’t object, “….with your nuts knackered neatly….” inevitably, “….and fucking fun, followed by a long relaxing hot shower together….” she closed the cage door, “….goodnight, Dai….sleep as best you’re able.” Probably not very well. “Yes, Ma’am,” he muttered, his words muted by the bed. “Goodnight,” he repeated, “I shall likewise lay your lovely Lady in loco maritus.” There was a sad sniff. “In Place Of A Married Man, Sir,” he replied, knowing his place.

 

Slowly he shed his remaining clothes and folded them tidily. But where were the rest? Yes….as they both climbed under the bedcovers, he’d left them outside Sexy Sally’s door. No matter, as she switched off the light, they’d keep until the morning. “I shall be attending Summer School for a fortnight this year,” she said into the darkness, “with week 4 as previous prefect, and then playing In The Pink….as Jeanette Limmitz. Since week 5 is the last in August, with luck we should share at least one lesson together. It’s the beauty of the system, enabling august alumni not only to revisit the rattan….” sampling some school style stick and swishing sessions, “….but also participate in posterior pain with previous pupils.”

 

Put thus, he could well understand the attraction. “I’ve always wondered what Mum and dad’s dished derrière discipline might have been like,” he admitted, “but also had a hankering for your hit hiney….with it caned comprehensively in class. It’s something I’d cherish….” he paused, “….I assume you’re both attending the wedding….ohh,” he added as she stroked his cheek, and as always her touch was 1000V. “Yes,” she replied, “with John-Boy, although Sally’s too young. I’m glad it’ll be an open-marriage, since I’d hate this to be the last time of taking your tool. There’s always been a certain spark between us, which I’m afraid isn’t quite the case with her….” alas, “….still, one can’t win ’em all….” quite correct, “….although you’ve tried The Tight Twat twice. Obviously all credit is due for doing your best to make them memorable moments. However, her loss is my gain….so sleep well, Shagger.”

 

She nuzzled his chest with her naughty nipples. “Goodnight, gorgeous,” he replied, relishing the prospect of another poke from one of his favourite floozies. Hopefully a second session of cuckolding would be more frustration fun for the fella on the floor? As a simple subbie it was still straight up his street. Anyway, there was nothing to stop them screwing after he’d left. Slowly, he fell into a seriously satisfied sleep.

To be continued……

 

 

predicament penile pleasure

sore seat spurting