Newsletter - November 2022

 

This will be the first ‘combined’ newsletter for both my Blog and mailing list. Up until now, the former was published at the end of each month; the latter at the start. This created a certain degree of logistical problems for me, quite apart from unnecessary duplication. So in order to bring things into line, the October Blog newsletter was omitted.  From now on, both will be published during the first week of each month.

 

Housekeeping notes from October included making mention of pain sluts henceforth referred to as pain perverts (pussy, penile, plums) which provided better alliteration.

 

I have also since engaged in a tidying of punishments, highlighting the utter unfairness of the system, which is obviously firmly fixed in favour of the floozies. Tarts Touching Tights/Tools/Testicles/Tushes/Tits/Twats are all freebies. For the studs they are redefined as Touching up, which dovetails well with the Touch Up Teams put in place on the London Underground in order to stamp out skirt sinners. Needless to say, this will all have consumed a couple of weeks’ work, spread over mentions made in many of the 246 chapters in total in the book.

 

So Chapter 236 has been emailed complete to everyone, and part (1) of (4) published on the Blog. (The other three will follow at weekly intervals, as usual). It’s all about the Summer Balls, of which there is only one, as the balls are provided by the bad boys.

 

Next month will see Chapter 237 – Restoration Friday – which sees William Shanks restored to his position as prefect. Alas, he still has a Detention to do, but at least his eventual reward is good....later in the evening.

 

Enjoy. 

 

Chapter 236 - part (1) of (4)

 Summer Balls – Year LXXXIX

According to the wall clock the time was 3.49pm, and William Shanks was somewhat stiff. This was in more ways than one, since his shaft was straining strongly. It was hardly surprising, since he was presently lying on the wooden classroom floor completely unclothed. Another reason was because he was being treated to the sight of two rolled-up skirts….the so-called Tart’s Trademark. They were acting as his Willing Helpers, although unusually in this instance they really WERE so. At St Sticks, the usage was often its opposite. Both beauties were fully paid-up members of dorm 6S….The Six Sneaks. He was indecently enjoying the sinful sight of Evelyn Tenterden’s slit, since she’d been allowed to shed her naughty knickers and place them over his nose.

 

Meanwhile, Magdalene Drage was masturbating his partly panty-covered manhood with her foot. The soft material, as stroked up against his straining shaft, was seriously stimulating. This was a new departure, since never before had he been forced into frillies….at least for the purposes of public humiliation and shame. Pathetic panty perversion was a completely different matter, since this was something he’d always actively enjoyed. The remainder of Alixander Fall’s Art class was busily engaged in drawing the depravity, which he’d entitled: A study in Shanks’ several sins. This was the second such scene, since Evil Intent and Dredge had since swapped places.

 

After what seemed forever, he heard the bell, and also the main school clock tower known as Big Ben start striking for 4pm. “You may reclaim your naughty knickers, guilty girls,” said Alix The Phallix. “Uhh….uhh,” he moaned as they were removed from his head and hiney. Then they replaced them onto their rightful rears, and sorted out their skirts to a regulation length.

 

“Finish drawing, everyone,” the teacher continued, “leave your work on your desks. Unless any of you have understanding frightful fagmistresses or fearsome fagmasters….” chance would be a fine thing, “….and wish to watch Wanker Boy Will’s whacks….” takers would be unlikely, “….you should get going for your afternoon duties….” he looked down at him with distaste, “….except you, bad boy….” Oops, “….I’m dishing you discipline….” but why? “….and also a Detention for tomorrow….” he was already doing one this evening, “….your Lines will be: I am a complete cretin who cannot create any worthwhile artwork….”  his torn-up drawing had previously proved the postulate, “….but as for your culpable crimes, I shall swish you soundly for unashamedly Spying Up Skirts….” albeit without any option, “….don’t try to tell me it wasn’t fun for your phallus, since your eight inches of erotic enjoyment gives the game away….” rumbled, “….stand up….” he did so, and his bearing was….well, firm, “….it’s a change from the old days, when Wanker Boy Will was one of the Brownie boys in my Art class. There are no more knobbly knees knocking, with a wildly wavering willy in an abortive attempt to impress pussy with your prowess….” so much he’d learned this week, by kind courtesy of dorms 5X and 6X. The X-p♂sers and the six X-hibiti♂nists had helped him considerably, “….it’ll be three for each skirt, so six of the best. We’ll say staccato strikes in pairs, so bend over….nice and tight.”

 

Swishhhthwackkkk    Swishhhthwackkkk

“Ooo..HOO….TWO, thank you, SIR,” he gasped, as the class filed past him. Second such strikes always stung much more, since they landed on the same spot.

 

Swishhhthwackkkk    Swishhhthwackkkk

“Yi..HI….FOUR, thank you, SIR,” he gasped with the first of the so-called Hurting Hellos. “We’ll be looking forward to our session in your study, Wanker Boy Will,” said Dredge, with a wide wink. So Genuine Jam Tomorrow….or at least sometime over the weekend. “A Bi-some threesome,” muttered Evil Intent, with a wide wink. It was one whereby the bad boy bonked both beautiful Birds in bed, claiming consecutive cute cunts. Hopefully he’d see them in action together? He’d heard how favourite and firm female friends often adopted the sixdy nine Position. “It won’t be the coups de grâce yet,” said Alix The Phallix, “since there’ll be another three for failing an erection inspection.” Colloquially called the Cuts Of Grace.

 

Swishhhthwackkkk    Swishhhthwackkkk

“Yayy..HEYY….SIX….six of the very best, thank you, SIR,” he gasped, averting his eyes and staring stonily at the floor. He’d have liked to watch them wiggle away, but didn’t need another two strokes for Staring At Skirts….or similar sin. With luck there wouldn’t be any studied sadism at this stage, with casual conversation?

 

Swishhhthwackkkk    Swishhhthwackkkk    Swishhhthwackkkk

“Yikes..YIKES..YIKES….NINE….a nasty nine, thank you, SIR,” he gasped, “thank you for a thorough thrashing, Sir. I know I needed every stroke of it Sir, for all my failings and felonies, Sir. I admit to erotic enjoyment….and exhibitionism throughout the lesson….Ohh,” he added as his stripes were stroked with the stick. “Stand up, Shanks,” he said, “and then you too had best be away. I fear you’re in for further flogging, since you’re going to be very late for fagging….” so whose fault was this? “….yours, obviously.” Clearly his apparent mind reading abilities were working well. “Yes, Sir,” he said, “perhaps it’s a case of Be Seein’ You, Sir.”

 

The teacher smiled widely. “I’m one of the Supervisors tomorrow evening, Shanks,” he said, “so should you select me, we can continue this conversation with some BCNU beating. I didn’t mention it today, since there’s one more Art lesson next week for this class….when everyone will receive the rattan with three whacks.” He picked up his bag of books. “I won’t worry with wearing my Short Shirt, Sir,” he said, packing it inside, together with his matching pink tie, “since I expect my frightful fagmistress will want some sort of naked waiter service.” The teacher winked once. “Nothing at all to do with wanting to wander around the school completely unclothed,” he said, “I do sometimes wonder why I bother to give exhibitionists public humiliation, since it’s hardly even a punishment.”

 

Rumbled again. “Until tomorrow, Sir,” he said as he padded towards the door. “Be Seein’ You, Shanks,” the teacher called out. It seemed he’d finally made a hit with the teacher….having been the reverse over the long years. He padded out of the classroom, and headed towards the lockers area. There, he deposited his bag of books into № 80….the temporary one for this week only. Then it was into the first of several long, dark cold corridors. As he continued to the Prefects’ Study wing, he mused upon the utter unfairness of the arrangements in the Art class. It was a kind of Catch-22 situation whereby the outcome was always the same. Had he exposed himself to them, he’d have been beaten. They’d rolled up their skirts….but it was still HIS hiney hit.

 

Many minutes later, he reached the entrance hall, and as quickly as he dared, he ascended the empty echoing stone steps. The sounds were from fustigated fags….Flogged, at the hands of their particular prefect. He’d suffered his unfair share of each entity over the past few days. It had been from a succession of Senior Swaps, none of which had been particularly pleasant. One particular problem with a different prefect for the morning and afternoon duties was the need for a Start-As-You-Mean-To-Go-On beating. This would be followed an hour later by a Farewell Foursome. So it had been an extra dozen due a day, before he’d even done anything wrong. Though this time, it would be with his frightful fagmistress. As he started up the fifth flight, he recalled she hadn’t yet said anything about tomorrow morning. Presumably he’d find out her intentions shortly? Finally he reached the Level 5 landing, and started into the gloomy corridor. It wasn’t far to study 1.

 

Shirley Greene

Templum Deae

 Which was The Temple of the Goddess. He opened the door without knocking, as per fagging protocol. “Why are you so seriously late….and in the altogether, Wanker Boy Will?” she asked. “Please, Ma’am,” he replied, “it was Art, never one of my strongest subjects. I’d committed crimes, but Mr Alixander Fall didn’t start swishing me for them until four o’clock….after the rest of the class had been dismissed.” She smiled slightly. “Had you ended up as a reclining nude?” she asked, sourly. “Yes, Ma’am,” he admitted, “It was just after I’d been Shopped for Languishing Along Lovely Legs by two of Shanks’ Ponies….” the new, if very temporary epithet for dorm 6S, “….Dredge and Evil Intent in this instance. He inspected my work, and tore it up in a rage. Then he ordered me strip and lie down in the centre of the studio. So I spent the rest of the lesson engaged in pathetic panty perversion with each of them in turn, whilst Spying Up Skirts. The second slut was simultaneously stroking my shaft with her shoe.”

 

She nodded, knowingly. “Are you looking forward to the Summer Balls this evening, bad boy?” she asked. “Yes, Ma’am,” he admitted, “although it’ll be even more embarrassing for the fellas than in previous years….unless one’s an incorrigible exhibitionist.” She smiled. “Which I must admit you now are,” she agreed, “having most definitely emerged from the closet during the past week. But what’s changed?” He rewound the announcement in his memory, and decided she might not have heard. “The Headmaster made an announcement in assembly on Tuesday morning, Ma’am,” he explained, “which was when you were away. Perhaps you’d like to hear all about it.” He was careful to make the statement sound as such, as opposed to a caneable Question. “Go ahead,” she replied.

 

He’d been sitting in the main assembly hall for some time. The really rough raised ridges were tough on his tender tush, having been flogged by his fearsome fagmaster. He was due to do a Detention in the evening, hence he was wearing nothing except one of horrible Harry Herbert Orwell’s Short Shirts.

 

“I assume you’ll still need yours later,” she said, “on the assumption you’ve another to do?” He nodded. “Yes, Ma’am,” he muttered, “it was dished yesterday morning, by Mrs Gertrude Griffin.” He smiled slightly in memory. “Speaking of fearsome fagmasters,” she said, “remind me of his name?” Easily done. “Please, Ma’am,” he replied, seething slightly, “it was Boyd Booth, who hailed from dorm 6D.” She smiled slightly. “Yes,” she said, “The Boot Boy, once one of The Six Demeaners. You can tell me about it presently….” she paused, “….who I’d LIKE to say was selected with your best interests in mind….” highly unlikely, “….but as I explained to you last Sunday, it wasn’t….” he recalled her saying so, “….the rationale simply being the quid pro quo, and what was on offer in return for the facility. You were, I have to say, a popular property….” thanks a bunch, “….and I’ve successfully sourced several studs’ submission sessions, from decidedly Dominant dolts who wouldn’t normally be seen dead with a disciplinary Domme.” So it had certainly seemed.

 

He’d been listening to The Headmaster’s dreadfully dull and disinterested delivery, which didn’t get any better with time. Finally after forever, there was an item of interest. “This Thursday evening, at eight of the clock,” he said, as always avoiding all apostrophes, “it will be the annual Summer Balls….” sod it, since this would be the second time he’d been In The Pink, “….in Year LXXXVIII, the pupils-with-penis In The Pink were required to wear BUSINESS BRIEFS….” Balls Under Sentence Incorporating Necessary Erectional Sexual Stress, “….plus a pink clip-on. This year, it will be naccatape, together with a bowtie for ALL bad boys….” there were several gasps from the rows behind him, “….but basic black for the prefects….” he smiled genially around the hall, “….matching high heels are optional, since we would not wish any accidents….” he winked once, “….although the lovely Ladies will be welcome to show the studs how it should be done. The rule about wearing them out of dorm will be relaxed from four of the clock, for the evening.”

 

She smiled widely, and stroked her skirt where she shouldn’t. “An excellent idea,” she purred, “since it’s essentially the Naked Waiter wear….” which was itself a slight misnomer, but not enough to make much difference, “….there’s nothing like a Stiffie Salute to see whether a willy likes you a little….” he hadn’t heard the phrase, although pretty plainly it must mean a pulsing penis, “….I learned it at St Bowlers….” Ohh, “….along with another one, to which I’ll introduce you soon enough….” he had a horrid hunch it would prove painful to his posterior? “….and you can serve my dinner in similar style….” so something he had right? “….in any event, it’ll provide you with more practice….on the assumption you’d intended to be daring with them this evening….?” he nodded, “….extreme exhibitionism, although I expect it’ll prove popular. We’ll address your lamentable Lateness….” at one whack per five minutes, or part thereof, “…. which will be five strokes, with one more for arriving Improperly Attired. You’ve already failed your erection inspection, so it’s a nasty nine….staccato style, in threes….” at least they’d be over quickly, “….put on your high heels, and assume the Position.” He duly did so, together with his pink bowtie.

 

Swishhhhthwackkkk    Swishhhhthwackkkk    Swishhhhthwackkkk

“Yeeee..EEEE..HEEE….THREE, thank you, MA’AM,” he yelped. “I always enjoy swishing studs wearing high-heeled shoes,” she mused, “for the same reason there are so many fellas’ fantasies for flogged floozies in them.” So he’d heard before, and agreed implicitly.

 

Swishhhhthwackkkk    Swishhhhthwackkkk    Swishhhhthwackkkk

“Yarooo..OOO..HOO….SIX, thank you, MA’AM,” he gasped. “Now it’s your three for the thrill of a thrashing,” she said. So this was the second of her new phrases….not a bad one, either.

 

Swishhhhthwackkkk    Swishhhhthwackkkk    Swishhhhthwackkkk

“Yeouchh..OUCH..OUCH….NINE….thank you, MA’AM,” he gasped, “I was sorry to be so late, and for my straining shaft.” Across the study in the kitchenette area, the de facto junior fag sniggered softly. It was partly PWEP, or Punishment With Extreme Prejudice, when one was whacked with younger years watching. However it was similarly Schadenfreude, the Perverse Pleasure Of Another’s Suffering, and something with which St Sticks suffered in spades. “Your dinner’s ready, Ma’am,” said Pet It. “Excellent….” said Shirley Green as she retreated to the study table.

 

 At least it had been laid, although she hadn’t mentioned any guest? “….Wanker Boy Will can start service….” she sat down, placing her cane next to a cardboard carton, “….you can also tell me about your Detention this evening. I’ll be generous, and simply add three whacks onto your beat sheet to cover all Vulgarities and Disrespectful References.” Very lenient….as he strutted to the kitchenette, and took a napkin. Then he placed it over one arm and collected a steaming bowl of soup. “Please, Ma’am,” he said as he carried it carefully towards the table, “on the face of things, it was straightforward. I was in excess of six minutes late for Lesson 1 yesterday morning, following my Explanation to The Headmaster.” She pursed her lips. “I hope this is hot,” she said darkly, “otherwise someone’s hiney will be thus….” she took a small sip, “….you’re let off this time, June.” Oops….as he stared at the carton, and his shaft strained suddenly, with what was a Pavlovian reaction to previous pain.

 

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 “Shagger says you sampled the sensation last Saturday, Shanks,” she said, following his eyes, “during your cross-country run, when you were diverted to The Dell.” He nodded. “Yes, Ma’am,” he confirmed, “Dorm 5A were running Amaz♀nia, and we were kidnapped accordingly. I was treated to the attentions of a country Copper in the shape of PC Thor Thring. He introduced me to both the serious and severe settings.” She sniggered softly. “Think yourself lucky it wasn’t stun,” she said wryly, “or you’d have been on the ground….” he shivered, “….do continue with your story, whilst I sup my soup.”

 

So where was he? “My problems had started during assembly,” he explained, “when I’d unfortunately been obliged to sit between The Gods Themselves. They were two of the six Nasties, and it certainly showed. All through the service they were holding my arms, and knackering my nuts neatly with their free hands. Despite my difficulties, I’d successfully stayed silent, however after my Explanation name had been called, I knew I was in trouble.”

 

“All rise,” said The Interrogator, and the rows of prefects behind them started to move. Then it was their turn, however both Godfreys stayed standing in place, smiling sweetly. He attempted to move around them, but was blocked in both directions. Now the Babes and Boys In Blue were leaving, and with them his priority place in line outside the School Secretary’s Office. It wasn’t until the Brownies Babes and Boys were well on their way when they finally moved. He was essentially frogmarched out of the main assembly hall.

 

They broke their silence after they’d passed through the double doors. “Such a shame, Wanker Boy Will,” said Godfrey Roth, “since it seems you’ll be late in line….” he’d suspected this had been their game plan? “….so you’ll be doing another Detention tomorrow,” added Godfrey Fearing, “a fitting revenge for all the occasions you’ve caned us over the past year....” Ohh, “….we’d love to linger and knacker you into submission,” said The Wrath Of God, “….and then demand our dues,” said The Fear Of God, “however we wouldn’t want to be late for Lesson 1 ourselves….” perish the thought, “….hopefully, we can catch up with you again before your restoration on Friday….”

 

“Which they did outside The Canteen at lunchtime,” he said, “I was knackered neatly for a nasty nine by them both, and then they DID demand their dues,”

 

SMACKK “….OWW….” SMACKK “….OWW,” he muttered as they both smacked his seat sharply before walking away. “Nasty types from dorm 6N….” said one of The Little Girls In Green, suddenly at his elbow, “….I’m not looking forward to having them as prefects next term….” at least this was something he’d be spared, “….shall we go….Wanker Boy Will….” where to? “….The Headmaster’s corridor, since I’m an explainee too.” A good case of apparent mind reading in one so young. “Are you Gail Pusey of dorm 3F….” he asked as they started on the way, recalling the names of The Little Girls In Green from few minutes previously.

 

They’d been the last ones, since there’d been none of The Yellow Perils today, “….or Brigitte Wareham….or Bernice Able-Tare, both of dorm 3S?” She smiled as they started into the first of the long, dark cold corridors, “I’m Pussy Galore,” she replied, “of The Little Fuckers….” surely she’d be a candidate for the Sex Slut Of St Stricktlands School? “….I’m certainly hoping so, in three years’ time….” amazing, “…as opposed to Wear’em and Terrible.” Presumably known collectively as Wear And Tear?

 

Shirley Greene mopped her mouth, and he picked up the plate. Then he returned it to the kitchenette, and collected her main meal. He set it down, and she stared up at him. “You could at least have poured my glass of water, Wanker Boy Will,” she said reproachfully, “so would you wish one whack for Shoddy Service….or should it be The Cattle Prod?” His pulsing penis was proof positive. “I’ve set it to stun,” she said, “the same as they always did with phasers in the old days.”

 

Very droll, as he too recalled the ancient Sci-Fi series of Star Trek….ZZZZZZ “….URGHHH,” he gasped, as his legs buckled, and he sagged to the study floor. Slowly, he staggered to his feet again. “Uhhh….MA’AM,” he moaned, as he saw her stroking her skirt where she shouldn’t. “It always gets me just there when I see a stud’s sexual suffering in such circumstances,” she said, as he desperately did her drink.

 

They continued in silence for several seconds, until they reached the entrance hall for the Administration wing. “This is a journey I’ve made twice with Shagger in the past, Wanker Boy Will,” she mused, as he had a sudden thought. “I don’t suppose,” he said sourly, as they started up the empty echoing stone steps, “how with a nickname like yours, he’s down to do you when you reach sweet sixteen?” She smiled sweetly. “Yes, he is,” she replied happily, “I was able to acquire a Cunt Casanova for my defloration, to fuck me fully and fondly for the first time.” So there it was again, nothing succeeds like success, and sodding Shagger strikes again. No sinful sluts had ever asked HIM for the fucking facility. Still, he was now reconciled to the fact about his phenomenal failure with the floozies all being his own stupid fault.

 

“I’m glad you’ve made progress with your personality, Wanker Boy Will,” she said, “since wooing wanton wicked wenches and Witches by wavering your willy wildly was never going to work. Shagger did try to tell you on several occasions during his Private Study penances, but you wouldn’t listen. Nevertheless, you’ve since seen the light, so things will be decidedly different from now on. But do continue with your sorry saga of sins.” He nodded.

 

“I was swished soundly by my frightful fagmistress….,” she said, stepping slightly in front of him, and stopping halfway up the first flight, “….so how’s about some Straying Up Skirts, and soothing my stripes.” Go for it, said his personal demon. “I shouldn’t really….” he said instead, attempting to avert his eyes from her pleasingly pleated green skirt, and failing badly, “….although the school rules don’t prohibit rubbing someone else’s raw rear.” Even though a culpable canee would face further flogging for the felony. “I should still Shop you for Staring At Skirts,” she said, “and some similar sins, whether you’d committed them or not….” since the word of an innocent young Lady was always believed, despite it being a rouge’s charter, “….but I won’t, since I’m not Wear And Tear….” gotcha, “….of  The Little S♀ and S♀s. You can guess where they’ll end up in two years’ time….” definitely dorm 6S, “….however there’s the quid pro quo for my silence.” A Reciprocal Exchange,

 

“Which is?” he asked warily, expecting the worst. “I want to feel your fetching fanny,” she replied, “since those Knackerpants seem at least two sizes too small.” He shrugged. “It was Terrence’s idea,” he said, “to make them terrifically taut and tight for my tush and tool. Actually, I’ve not spent very much time wearing them, since most days it’s been horrible Harry Herbert’s sodding Short Shirt. But can it wait until we’re in line.” She mouthed him a quick kiss, and bent forward slightly. “Ohh….Ohh….Ohh….” she moaned as he strayed both hands up her skirt, and stroked her naughty knickers, “….MUCH better, bad boy.” Then they continued to the Level 1 landing, and started into The Headmaster’s Corridor.

 

“Anyway, Ma’am,” he said, “we duly reached our destination. Sure enough, all the other explainees had already arrived. Clearly, I’d no chance at all of arriving on time for The Dreadful Griffin, thus The Gods Themselves had succeeded.”

Iain Terrence Hayter, M.A. (Oxon)

Headmaster

Susan Sweet

School Secretary

The green overhead warning light wasn’t lit, so the swishings hadn’t started. They went to the end of the line, where Wear And Tear were already talking animatedly with each other. “You may go in ahead of me, Wanker Boy Will,” she said, “despite lovely Ladies first.” He bent forward slightly. “Ohh….Ohh….Ohh,” he repeated as two helping hands hovered all over his hiney. “We’ve plenty of time,” she murmured, “and I suppose your seat’s similarly sore….” from the many ministrations of his frightful fagmistress.

 

“Which one was she?” she asked. “Please, Ma’am,” he replied, “It was Tilly Howe, formerly from dorm 6L.” He shivered slightly in memory. “Oh yes,” she said, “Tally Ho of The Six Lezzies. Was she dressed for Equestrienne entertainment?” He nodded. “Yes, Ma’am,” he replied, “tight white jodhpurs adorning an adorable arse, and long black boots.” Shirley Greene grinned. “I’ll have my payback presently,” she said, “with her dressed the same way. I also enjoy taking down disciplinary Dommes, since they seethe so satisfactorily. She’ll be baring her bottom, and I’ll use her own crop convincingly….” she giggled, “….if things go well, I’ll administer a strap-on dildo after she’s pleased my pussy.” So fun for all the family?

 

“….so why not slip them down, and I’ll give your raw rear a really good rub? Nothing like exposure, as he bared his bottom and bent forward. “A particularly pert and punishable posterior,” she said, echoing so many similar sentiments of late. “Ohh….Ohh….Ohh….Ohh,” he moaned again. “It seems you’ve been cropped considerably, rather than caned?” she suggested. “Yes,” he agreed, “by kind courtesy of Tally Ho. She rode me starkers all over her sodding study, and the Bitch even put a bit between my teeth.” Still, on one level it was better than doing the ironing. “Since you’re wearing Naccatape,” she said, “would you be my balls bulb boy?” Why not….since some more public humiliation wouldn’t make much difference?

 

Actually, he admitted to his personal demon, he was enjoying all the indecent attention immensely. “Most certainly….Ma’am,” he said, spreading his legs. Wear And Tear now noticed his deviance, and they turned towards him to stare at his straining shaft. “UGHHH….UGHHH….” he moaned, just like an old-fashioned motorcar horn from yesteryear as she squeezed his scrotum soundly, “….BEEP BEEP,” he added with sickly smile required in such circumstances, and similar to the swishees’ smirk. “We heard all about Wanker Boy Will at work last Friday afternoon,” said one, “by kind courtesy of the Bush Telegraph….” the girls’ grapevine, with a speed of dissemination several times that of light, “….in Mississippi’s class when she had him Walk The Plank. He tarried on the top diving board, with the wanton wicked wenches wondering whether he wanted to wank worthlessly with them watching. Was this the case?”

 

Oops. “Yes,” he admitted, his ears burning, “it HAD crossed my mind.” They both grinned, even as the queue shifted forward. “Would you like to give it a go?” asked the other, ominously.” Surely he shouldn’t? “You may as well,” said Gail Pusey from behind him, “as I know them of old, and they’ll simply Shop you anyway. They’ll probably become paid-up members of The Six Sneaks.” His own view precisely. “Uhhh….uhhh,” he moaned as he shamelessly stroked his shaft.

 

“So I edged endlessly, as the long line slowly shortened. The Little S♀ and S♀s had rolled up their skirts with the Tart’s Trademark, and I was having to keeping stopping short. It was worse when they lifted them, lowered their naughty knickers and showed me some slit. Finally, there were only the four of us, and then the green light illuminated again. One of them went in, and reappeared several seconds later to say The Headmaster would deal with them both at the same time. So the other one went as well, leaving just me with Pussy Galore.” He refilled her glass, collected her empty plate and took it to the kitchenette. Then it was back again with her dessert, plus pot of tea. “I’ll pour my own,” she said, “since I know how I like it.”

 

“Gail,” he said, as he continued to edge in their absence, “could you kindly stretch my sac….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….” he gasped as she reached between his legs, and obliged with obvious enthusiasm, “….since I’m a plums pain pervert….sod, I’m spunking. It’s always the same with me and scrotum suffering….UHHH….YESS….YESS….YESS.” He spurted several times onto the stone floor. “Oops,” she said, letting him loose, “I’d best mop up the mess.” She took a tissue, and within seconds the incriminating evidence was well away in a pocket. There really wasn’t much point in raising his Knackerpants, since he’d be baring his bottom for a beating by the beak in a few minutes away.

 

So he kicked them off, and folded them carefully. “The good news,” she said, “is this will save you lots of discipline during the day….” he nodded, “….and the really bad news,” he explained, “is every stroke will sting much more….” without any sexual imperative which might mitigate the misery, “….I daresay you’re aware of how the physiology for flogging fellas works with willies….?” she nodded, knowingly, “…..incidentally, I was going to ask. Who’s your frightful fagmistress?” She gave a grimace. “It’s The Bakewell Tart,” she replied. “Joanne Bakewell,” he confirmed, “an émigrée from The Six Teasers last year.”

 

The younger year nodded. “Yes,” she agreed, “and it certainly shows. She’s never had any shortage of studs all anxious to take terrible tool teasing. There’s been many a morning when I’ve arrived for work to find a fella’s fancy feathered. Then she’d tell me to go and borrow some milk, or some other invented errand. It would give her sufficient time to screw him soundly, since he’d have been on the edge for ages….” she paused, “….did you ever avail yourself of her not-so hidden charms?” He shook his head. “Nope,” he admitted, “since it was the sin of pride. I do recall being kidnapped once by dorm 6T during Year LXXXVIII, and I’ll admit it was actually an enjoyably erotic experience….although I didn’t think so at the time.”

 

“Please, Ma’am,” said June Pettit, “I’m all washed up….so to speak.” Her frightful fagmistress smiled. “Very good,” she replied, “you’re officially dismissed for the day. You may go and change in the shower room….” but why? “….she’s going to the Summer Balls dressed for Equestrienne entertainment….and she’s borrowing my clothes.” Interesting.

 

Finally, the overhead warning light went on again. “Goodbye, Gail,” he said, “it’s been fun.” She mouthed him a quick kiss, and he stepped inside the office, vaguely aware nobody had emerged. “Good morning, Wanker Boy Will,” said Sue Sweet, “I was wondering where you’d got to, however it appears you’ve been up to your old tricks again….” how did SHE know?, “….I’m afraid Wear And Tear have been Shopping you for your sins….” Oops, “….I always listen to what’s going on in Terrence’s study.” Eavesdropping over the intercom, by any other name. She gestured to the study door, and he walked towards his destination of doom. Ordinarily his penis would be pulsing at this point, but now it hung limply.

 

another appreciative audience

Chapter 235 - part (4) of (4)

 Presentation

“I’ll give you a run for your money….darling,” he said, as he carried the football. “So will I….darling,” she replied, flexing her fingers firmly….PEEP, went the whistle, and they were off. He ran like a frightened rabbit, in fear of his balls, but he was aware she would easily outrun him. “NACCARIM….NACCARIM,” he heard Lady Delia Brusch’s dulcet tones. Sure enough, within a few feet of the assembled company, his gonads were grabbed and he felt himself falling forwards. He landed painfully on the grass with The Green Goddess on top of him, and clutching his crotch. “UGHHH….UGHHH….BEEP BEEP,” he gasped, before she stood slowly.

 

“Ordinarily, I’d have passed the ball to one of my team, Mesdames and Sirs,” she said, “but might I demonstrate a Convulsion?” NO….he thought desperately, however he was evidently outvoted by six to one. “Look lively, Shagger,” said Have A Thrash, “turn over at once, with your legs spread….” he duly did so, and the football was placed into position….THUNKK “….Ohh,” he gasped as it sailed away, “….bravo….I’m sure it would have scored. Go and fetch it, Shagger….double quick.” He hurried away, however he was already winded. “Huhh….huhh,” he huffed as he returned and handed it over to Ruby Whacks. “You’re out of condition, Shagger,” she said with a sniff. “Which is exactly as I’ve been telling him for almost two years,” said Ava Frasch, wryly, “and hardly helped by chronic cheating during his last two cross-country runs.”

 

There were several sniggers. “How?” asked her new-found cousin. “By cutting the course, and arranging for motorized transport,” she replied. “I hope he was properly punished for such sin, Ava,” she said. “Most certainly, Ruby,” was the reply, “he was swished soundly….” she paused, “….anyway, we’re just about done, unless anyone wishes to witness the whacks….” there were five neat nods, “….so we’ll say the final score was two points to six, with the Studs’n’Sluts winners….” thanks a bunch, “….take the tawse, Shirley, and give him what-for….” she sniggered softly, “….which may make a change from what-ho….” indeed so, as he formed the angle with his legs spread, “….since there’s so many bottoms to beat, we usually operate the system of Rapid Responses….does St Bodlians use them at all?”

 

The Headmaster nodded. “Yes,” he replied, “when beating bad boys over the Block. It is the birch for those in the lower 6^th form, with the cane for younger years. We have what we call Felon Flogging Fridays at five, which are applied after three Detentions have been reached….the dose of discipline increasing after each multiple. They are public punishments, taken on stage in the assembly hall, and offer an appreciative audience….” he smiled, “….we also have a branch of the BBC….” the British Birching Club, and nothing to do with broadcasting, “….an out-of-hours school society, for those prefects who always enjoyed some sound swishing.” CRACKK “….OWW….” CRACKK “….OWW….” CRACKK….” OWW….” CRACKK….” OWW….” CRACKK….” OWW….” CRACKK….” OWW….” CRACKK “….OWW,” he gasped in pure pain. “Is it another three for the Thrill Of A Thrashing?” asked Ruby Whacks, and belatedly he recalled how she’d said HER school.

 

He’d automatically assumed it to be the one she’d attended, not where she worked. “No….” replied Have A Thrash, and he saw some faces fall, “….it’s a tap taken to the testicles with the tawse….” now there were several smiles, “….there’s no doubt he’s been Bothered By Beating….as WE say at St Sticks.” Crackk “….UGHHH,” he moaned in a haze of pain. Slowly, he straightened up, and so did his shaft with another salute. “Now it’s my turn,” he said, as Shirley Greene assumed the Position…. CRACKK “….OWW….” CRACKK “….OWW….” she gasped. “Do you have naughty nipples?” asked the Headmaster. “Yes, Sir,” she replied, “I’m guilty….so it’s a tap to the twat….” Crackk “….UGHHH,” she added.

 

“I am very impressed with this game,” he said, “and it is certainly something we would wish to seriously consider taking on board. As you may imagine, we are somewhat in the shadow of the far more famous scholastic institution just down the road….” Rugby School, “….and Naccarim would enable us to make our mark rather more….” he smiled, “….even though we are somewhat stricter with swishing. But when we are up and running….so to speak….” was there no end to this wit? “….maybe there might be some scope for inter-school challenge matches? Does St Templars play too….?”

 

Ava Frasch nodded, “….then we have the seeds sown for the start of a league. St Bowlers could play each school, and then the two winners have a final….” he paused, and pursed his lips, “….I was also most interested in the impromptu demonstration of derrière discipline….” one of the original grandiloquisms, imparted by no lesser personage than Kenneth Grahame himself in his children’s classic, The Wind In The Willows, meaning on the spur of the moment, “….since we are expecting our first intake of deviant damsels in the Autumn….” he’d said as such at 3am, “….although we still have to decide upon whether they should wear bowler hats, the same as the studs.”

 

Abruptly, he recalled Lady Delia Brusch once stating these same sentiments. But perhaps now was his chance for some modest retribution? “Might I suggest Shirley tries one out for size, Sir,” he opined, “together with some beating and birching over the Block. Surely some practice with punishing a pretty posterior wouldn’t go amiss?” The Headmaster smiled sweetly. “You must have read my mind, Shagger,” he replied, even as The Green Goddess shrugged. “I know when I’m beaten, Sir,” she muttered, “or about to be. But I can be a wanton wicked wench which wants the whacks, when my small submissive side seeks some stimulation.”

 

Very droll. “Were there any questions before we go?” asked Have A Thrash. “Just one,” replied Ruby Whacks, “we didn’t see a Free Kick….” Oops, “….might I oblige?” Oh, dear….so he hadn’t got away with it after all? “Surely,” her cousin replied, “Shagger….stand in the Position For Pain. This is another item we’ve taken from St Templars….in addition to their tawse.” Or as St Templare: A Hyſtorye less politely put it, St Sticks had stolen everything in sight, from shirts and shorts to sheets. He spread his legs again, bent both knees, and leaned backwards slightly….WHUMPP “….URGHHH,” he moaned, keeling forward and cupping his crotch.

 

“I also have a Birching Block in my Flat,” said Dr Wilberforce Throgmorton, “so perhaps Shirley and I might adjourn there for, say an hour? I also have a fine collection of etchings, of which she might be interested?” Really? “I also would wish to discuss a few things with Sir Digby,” said Lady Delia Brusch, “and since I live in London, the school has provided me with a fine Flat.” It was probably free, too. “Which leaves only us,” said Rhiwbina Wackel, “I suggest Ava and Shagger accompany me to MY Flat?” Might it be a Bi-some threesome? “Excellent,” said Sir Digby, “if the St Sticks contingent could kindly meet back at the car park afterwards.”

 

The Governor and Governess held hands, and headed away towards the school buildings. They were followed by Shirley Greene, who had her arm around The Headmaster’s waist. “Shape up, Shagger,” said Ava Frasch, “it looks like you may be in luck after all.” She and her cousin ducked under his shoulders. “Uhhh….uhhh,” he moaned with each step, frogmarched with the assistance of two fetching floozies. “I hope we won’t keep you from your work, Ruby?” she asked. “No, Ava….” she replied, continuing to talk across him, “….fortunately I’m free for lessons 1 and 2 on a Monday.”

 

The others had already all moved on way ahead by the time they reached the car park again. Alfred Heath saluted at his seat as they passed the Roller, presumably having already been briefed by his employer about the likely timescale involved? Then they continued towards a large unmarked outbuilding, several storeys high. “This houses the Staff studies and Flats,” she said, “and fortunately I’m on the ground floor.” Good….since it would mean not managing any steps. “You don’t think ill of me for my….well, extra-curricular activities, cousin?” she asked, slightly shyly it seemed as they pushed open some double doors. “Not at all,” Ava Frasch replied, “since I did something similar for many years. As this bad boy knows, I ran a dry-cleaning business in Letchhampton’s HIGH STREET….with a similarly slightly suspect sideline as a semi-professional prostitute and Dominatrix. Tell her my trading title, Shagger.”

 

He took a deep breath, “Huhh….it was Hot Stuff….huhh….Ma’am,” he huffed, “as indeed you were….huhh….and are….” SMACKK “….Oww,” he added, as they continued along a gloomy corridor. “Were all those confessions yesterday evening about Panty Pervert Pete for real, Shagger?” asked Ruby Whacks. “Huhh….no, Ma’am,” he replied, “they’re mostly taken from a distant dream….huhh….although Peter Purvis has become one of my role-play personas….huhh….I’ve acted him out on several occasions….huhh….but it’s been completely consensual….” of sorts, “….the same with the telephone calls….huhh….which are only by prior arrangement.” Finally, they reached their destination.

 

Rhiwbina Wackel

He noted there were no Latin logos as she kicked open the door. “Now you understand why I only do outcalls,” she said wryly as they stepped inside, “since otherwise it could lead to difficulties….” too true, “….I left Shagger on the edge last night, for Shirley to screw subsequently….but did you do the same this morning? I only ask, since with all his schoolboy salutes, he’s been parading a pulsing penis like a peacock.” He could see all manner of bondage hardware, exactly as might have expected. “Can we have him against a wall, Ruby….?” she asked in reply, as they raised his arms.

 

“Ohh….ohh….” he moaned as his wrists were shackled, and he hung limply….all apart from the aforementioned straining shaft, “….but yes, since it was a time of Teasing and Denial, with testicular torments whilst I satisfied myself on an electromechanical fucking machine. What weight did you suffer, Shagger?” she asked, as she ironed his ankles with his legs apart. “Please, Ma’am,” he muttered, “it was….huff….8oz.” There were two separate sniggers. “So it had best be 12oz this time….” she said, “NO,” he moaned, “….fine,1lb. Was there anything else you wanted to say?”

 

He smiled wanly, with the swishees’ smirk. “Ohh….AHH….HEEE…AYEEEEE,” he gasped as each 4oz weight was hung in turn onto the NACCATAPE. “Always assuming we’re now firm friends, Ruby,” she continued, “perhaps we might indulge in erotic entertainment?” There was another neat nod, as they shed their crimson-coloured hot pants, folding them to the floor. Needless to say, neither had been wearing naughty knickers. Then they adopted the sixdy nine Position, as so many favourite and firm female friends were wont to do. It was also a twin thing, and Sisters too, since his Missus and Miffy Smiffy were the same. “Uhhh….uhhh….uhhh,” they both moaned together with what must almost amount to self-stimulation, whilst writhing around in obvious ecstasy.

 

“Sometimes I agree with Shagger’s deep-seated desire….UHHH….to be an exhibitionist,” moaned Have A Thrash. “Yes, Ava….UHHH,” agreed her cousin, “it’s always better with an appreciative audience….UHHH….especially when it’s a mere male which can look and Lech Longingly Like A Loser….UHHH….but not touch twat.” Dammit….this was more denial. Hopefully though, they’d hump him hard when they’d had their fun? “UHHH….YESS….” moaned Ava Frasch, “….UHHH….YESS,” echoed Rhiwbina Wackel.

 

Time always stretched interminably, when one had a scrotum in a similar state. According to the wall clock, over half an hour had elapsed before they were finally finished. “Could you successfully screw us both, Shagger?” asked Have A Thrash as they each stood, shakily. “Yes, Mesdames,” he muttered, “I can cope with copulation of two consecutive cunts….” SLAPP “….arrogant bastard,” she said mildly, “but I was hoping we could count on you….” so he was nocent….guilty, and another good grandiloquism, or not innocent?  “….we’d best sort out some suitable Sex Thrashings. My cunt currency’s Six For Sex….what’s yours?” A mild and bitter, he thought wittily, with its allusion to alcohol.

 

“Mine too,” replied Ruby Whacks so it should be a dozen due….” Ouch, “….the BBC meets here on occasion, so he can take them over the Block. But since it seems he’s had several sessions of T&D….and taken six taps of the tawse, shall we say half has already happened?” Ava Frasch nodded, so at least his punishment on the playing field had been put to some good use. “Ohh….ohh,” he added as the shackles and irons were released. Slightly unsteadily, he padded across the room, still under testicular torment, and knelt on the first step.

 

“Get all the way over, Shagger,” she ordered, “elbows on the floor, with your neat little bottom, arse in the air….” another dollar, “….I’ll apply mine staccato style….” oo..er, yes MA’AM, “….me too,” added her cousin, “and no cumming….or your testicles will be in REAL trouble.” He didn’t doubt it, but the problem would be to comply. “You may as well have a bowler hat too, Shagger,” she said, placing one squarely on his head. At least he’d now look the part of the punished pupil.

 

SWISHHCRACKKK    SWISHHCRACKKK    SWISHHCRACKKK

“YEEE..HEEE..EEEE….” he yelped, with the required response, “….WHACKO! MA’AM.” Facing towards the Block was a large camera on a tripod. This too was quite normal, since it was customary to capture BBC birchings on AV Record. Then they could be sent away to the archive, and for the National Newsletter. Really choice birched bottoms could then be given wider….well, exposure. Patiently, he waited whilst they changed places.     

 

SWISHHCRACKKK    SWISHHCRACKKK    SWISHHCRACKKK “YEEE..EEEE..HEEE….WHACKO! MA’AM,” he yelped. Hell….how it hurt, but it was also unbelievably erotic. Much more, and he might have spunked, as she’d said. “Turn over and around,” ordered Ruby Whacks, “with your elbows propped up on the step, and we’ll screw you in the Superior style. You can take tongue to twat too, and please the other pussy during your perverted penile pleasure….Peter. Who’s first to fuck, Ava?” The other took out a coin, as he bent backwards over the bench. “AYEEEEE,” he shouted as the lead weights slipped off the edge, and his scrotum was suddenly stretched.

 

“Heads or Tools, Ruby,” she said without sympathy, “which is nothing if not absolutely apt….?” Very fucking funny. “Tools,” she replied as the bowler hat slipped off, “….Ruby’s right, so start licking where I like it.” She stood astride his head, and hauled hard on his hair. “UHHH….UHHH….UHHH….” she moaned as he duly diddled her and delved deep. “UHHH….UHHH,” he moaned as he felt a fancy sliding slowly down his straining shaft. “I….UHHH….said I’d screw you soon, Shagger….UHHH,” moaned Ruby Whacks, “although I honestly didn’t expect to have my wicked way with your willy quite so quickly….UHHH….anyway it must be miles better….UHHH….than wanking wor….UHHH….lessly….yes….YESS….YESS.”

 

Excellent….and now to climax the other teacher, hopefully before he came himself? He redoubled his efforts, and sucked her clit quickly into his mouth. “UHHH….YESS….YESS,” she gasped. Then Rhiwbina Wackel was at him again. “UHHH….MA’AM,” he moaned, as Ava Frasch shifted position, and squeezed his neck with her legs with some slight strangulation….what a way to go? Hadn’t it been Xenia Onnatop, one of James Bond’s foremost femme fatales, who’d enjoyed despatching dudes in this manner? Certainly in her case she was a femme fatal….what wit? “UHHH….MA’AM….UHHHKK,” he gasped, “I’m spunking….yes….YESS….YESS.” Then there was no more.

 

SLAPP “….Oww,” he gasped. “I fear you fainted, Shagger,” said Have A Thrash, “but fortunately only for a few minutes….” she paused, “….you seem to be ready for your second instalment.” He nodded weakly. “Yes, Ma’am,” he muttered, still slightly light-headed, “the testicular torment does tend to keep my erection on the boil, and so does the Snuff Stuff. It was absolutely….well, out of this world, and I’d be highly happy to have Miss Ruby try HER hand as Famke Janssen.”

 

The ancient Actress who’d played the part, and once more they moved into place. “UHHH….UHHH,” he moaned as a second similar slit slithered along his shaft. “UHHH….UHHH….SHAGGUHHHH,” she moaned as she too humped him hard, “I hope you’ll be attending Summer School in the holidays….” very likely, “….but if not, I’ll still screw you when I visit your philandering father next time at your home….” just as well his parents were in an open-marriage, “….UHHH….YESS….YESS….YESS.”

 

Then Rhiwbina Wackel stood astride him, and with her legs firmly around his neck. “I’ll take some tongue too, Shagger,” she said, “let’s see if you can cum me before you spunk a second time….or faint again.” She stared down into his eyes, and already he could feel his face reddening. “UHHH….UHHH,” she moaned as he licked her labial lips, his tongue lolling out of its own accord. Then he felt the friction from the fuck as his fancy was humped hard all over again. “UHHH….UHHH….UHHHKK….UHHHKK….I’m spurting....YESS.” Then there was no more.

 

He awoke to discover he was being dragged between them along the corridor, somehow whilst wearing his bowler hat again. “Ohh,” he gasped, as he attempted to start walking. “Glad you’re back with us again, Shagger,” said Ruby Whacks. “No sodding stamina,” growled Have A Thrash, “which is the problem with most mere males nowadays. I enjoyed my time on the fucking machine this morning, since it’ll continue competently cumming my cunt for as long as I wish.” They reached the double doors, and he blinked in the sudden sunlight.

 

As they approached the Rolls Royce, he could see The Headmaster and Shirley Greene in a passionate embrace. She too was wearing a crimson-coloured bowler hat, which appeared to answer the earlier question by acclamation. “Now Sir’s here,” said the chauffeur, “I’ve a message from Lady Delia Brusch. It seems Sir Digby will be staying overnight at St Bodlians….” he coughed discretely, “….I believe it may be something to do with him being a sex slave….” Oops, “….I’m instructed to take you all back to St Sticks, and then collect him tomorrow afternoon. It seems I shall be staying at The Boot Inn again….” Rhiwbina Wackel licked her lips, “….just in case anyone needs to know.”

 

Clearly, he’d indecent designs on Rugby Ruby for a second sex session. Then they all shook hands, variously. “Thank you for the Presentation, Ms Thrash….err….Frasch,” said The Headmaster, “I hope to meet you again, during a Naccarim challenge match in the autumn. As for Shagger and The Green Goddess….” he winked once, “….should either of you be passing through Rugby again and fancy some flogging….” and fucking, in her case, “….please feel free to call. Meantime, please keep the hats as mementos. But au revoir for the moment.” They all reciprocated as Alfred Heath held the door open, and the two lovely Ladies boarded.

 

Then he padded forward. “Perhaps some suitable smacks, Sir?” he suggested, bending forward slightly, “as souvenirs of my seat?” SMACKK “….Oww….” SMACKK “….Oww,” he gasped. Then he stepped inside, and the door was closed behind him. “Ahhh,” he gasped as he sat down, and was reminded of his raw rear. The chauffeur took the driver’s seat, the engine started, and the car moved forward. They all waved until they’d crossed the car park, and were away along the tree-lined avenue. He unzipped his overnight bag and carefully stowed his souvenir, whilst The Green Goddess did the same.

 

“Which went well,” said Ava Frasch, “I think we can safely say we’ve successfully signed up the school….” she grinned, “….which won’t do me any harm, since I’m on commission with Sex Spikes Ltd for the sale of GIM uniform….” somehow he wasn’t surprised, “….I discovered I have a gift for coercion and correction in commerce.” So she’d probably done some sort of dirty deal which involved discipline? “How did you fare….darling?” he asked of The Green Goddess as they pulled out onto the public highway. This would presumably feed them onto the A1269 trunk road, as indeed they’d used for part of the outwards journey?

 

“Thanks to you….darling….” she replied with obvious feeling, and squirming slightly in her seat, “….I suffered some substantial, and VERY slow swishing as the Apocryphal Schoolgirl, since he wanted to savour every sodding stroke. It was with both beating and birching by the big bastard over the Block, for punishment practice with a pretty posterior, as you’d so kindly offered. It was two dozen in all, and my seat’s still sore. However I was eventually able to turn the tables when I suggested some screwing. He wasn’t desperately desirous of derrière discipline, however his dick made the decision. So we changed places, and I applied a nasty nine cuts with the cane, in accordance with my cunt currency. He made his first mistake when he failed to offer complete contrition at the close. I told him it would be three more whacks as a reminder, and Repeated Rattan. His BIG mistake was to call me a Bitch, at which point I said it would be back to the very beginning with the birch….” she paused, “….with six extras for various Vulgarities along the way. So I gave as much as I got, and then we screwed solidly….” he interrupted her, “….with eight inches of erotic enjoyment?”

 

She pursed her lips. “How did you know….darling?” she asked. “It’s because he caned me competently and comprehensively at about half past three this morning in Reception,” he confirmed, “as he has something going with Tallulah.” Ava Frasch grinned. “I’d wondered about his cryptic comment,” she said, “about almost knowing your neat little bottom already.” So another dollar.

 

“What about Digger?” he asked, “did you put in your request?” She nodded. “He awoke shackled and spread-eagled to the bed,” she replied, “then I engaged in a time of terrible tool teasing, at which you know I’m an expert….” he shivered slightly in fond memory, “….followed by fun fellatio. It’s not normally my cup of tea, but needs must, and I edged him up to instant insanity for almost an hour. I’ll tell you how it panned out.”

 

“UHHH….UHHH,” he moaned, “for fuck’s sake let me spunk….UHHH….I can’t take any more tool teasing.” She smiled. “Don’t be a silly boy,” she said, licking her lips, “we’ve hardly even started….” there was a moan of despair, “….although we’ve been having such fun, perhaps you might like some souvenir shots of the session….?” he struggled strongly against the shackles, which as always achieved nothing….FLASHH “….NO….” FLASHH “….NO,” he gasped in horror, “….pretty pictures for the Camera Club….although I’ll be generous, and won’t make it The News of the Screws….” as the national newspaper was naughtily known, since it should have been World,

 

“….and it’ll be interesting when room service arrives with our breakfast. If you’re an incorrigible exhibitionist, you won’t mind exposing yourself in bed bondage to the Maid….but if not, it’ll be horrendous humiliation….” FLASHH, “….perhaps the former, since your shaft’s still straining.” He shrugged, as well as anyone can do whilst shackled securely. “Can we do a deal….despicable and dastardly deviant damsel?” he suggested, “ask anything at all….within reason.” She smiled, since this should be simpler than she’d expected. “Yes,” she said, “it’s all very simple and civilized. Last night, Shagger agreed to me becoming part of a ménage-a-cinq in the autumn….”

 

“This gets worse,” said Have A Thrash, “I was aware about your ménage-a-trois, but when did it become four….let alone five?” He smiled. “With the third Smith in our year, Ma’am,” he replied, “and only a few days ago. But I’m really only following in the footsteps of Our Man Flint, who had a harem of four permanent playmates.” She sniffed. “I recall watching it on AV Record,” she said sourly, “a seriously sexist swinging sixties spy spoof. I rather recall the Bimbos being brainwashed, and reduced to the ranks of penile Pleasure Units for the Reward Room. But James Coburn, who played the part of Derek Flint, was something else again….” she giggled girlishly, “….I could really go for him….the super-stud secret agent.” So Quod Erat Demonstrandum….or Thus It Has Been Proved?

 

“….and so I want a place at the University of Lancashire. Unfortunately, I haven’t yet applied….” she paused, “….needless to say, I’m more than happy to offer the Chancellor any amount of free fucking facilities. It would be the same sorts of sordid sex and spanking sessions as my three personable prefect peers. I understand there’s a nearby No Tell hotel called The Tell-Tale Tit, where you can take all four twats together if you wish.” He licked his lips.

 

“Consider it done,” he said, “so long as you obtain three grade E’s. You can take any course of your choice….” the power of the establishment was unbelievable….just wave a magic wand? “….I’ll ask Susie Sweet for your confidential school records….” all right, he WAS a Governor, “….and then have Jet Stream post the offer to your home address next week….” he paused, “….do we have a deal….?” she nodded, “….then for fuck’s sake either screw or spunk me. I’ve been on the edge forever, and I can’t think of anything apart from your lovely light and lithe body lying between my legs.” This time it was the power of pussy.

 

“So I screwed him soundly and successfully,” she said, “and we’d finished fucking by the time breakfast arrived. But to my slight surprise, he wasn’t a Wham-Bam-Thank-You-Ma’am, man, since he spent another quarter of an hour afterwards with cunnilingus. He comprehensively cummed my cute cunt, before we both showered….together. Then I dressed in my GIM uniform, before we went downstairs and met Ava at Reception.” Already, he was beginning to feel drowsy after all his exertions. “I want to know what happened between Shagger and Digger in the car park….” said the teacher, “….so do I….darling,” added The Green Goddess.

 

“It was essentially as he said yesterday,” he replied disarmingly, “with some sound spanking. Though afterwards he put me into the Backbreaker Submission Position, when I took the terrible testicle twist….” he shrugged, “….if you wish, you can tell each other about your sessions with me. I’m nodding off, since I didn’t sleep a lot latterly last night. It was no thanks to Ava, for sentencing me to the Slave Cage beneath the bed….and also for an hour of AHH whilst she screwed herself senseless on the fucking machine.”

 

He stared at her, however she smiled sweetly. “I expect you enjoyed every minute of it….darling,” said Shirley Greene, “but I’ll tell her all about OUR sexploits first….and how we hatched the plot to ensnare the noble knight. If you’re really tired, I suggest you curl up on the floor at our feet. Anyway, it’s where you belong, bad boy.” Fair enough….since it would enable him to take the pressure off his punished posterior. “Ohh,” he moaned, as he lay down uncomfortably. Still, it was no worse than the Cage had been. “We’ll wake you when we reach St Sticks….darling,” her somewhat soft and sensual soprano floated down to him.” He shut his eyes, and very quickly the soothing sounds of the smooth car closed all around him.

To be continued……

 

Chapter 235 - part (3) of (4)

 Presentation        

Salon 303

shut yourself into the Slave Cage

sleep soundly, Shagger

Oh dear….so it wouldn’t be a time of luxury and luvvy-duvvy. He opened the door and stepped inside to see the room layout was the same as Salon 206. Since it was summer, the dawn was already breaking, so he wouldn’t worry with lights. Silently, he set the key down next to its twin on the table. Have A Thrash was sleeping soundly and sexily, nice and nude on top of the black silk covers. For a moment he considered binding her to the bed, but dismissed it. After all, her instructions had been quite clear, and she wanted him suitably submissive.

 

So he knelt down and opened a gate beneath the bed. Inside it was spartan, with no creature comforts at all apart from a single pillow. With resignation he closed the gate, and it snapped shut. Now there was nothing more to be done, except for some semblance of sleep. He pushed the pillow beneath his beaten bottom, since his punished posterior was a more deserving cause than his head. Then he closed his eyes.   

 

Dave Granger was in grave danger. The secret agent had been sent to Jamaica, and his spying mission had all gone horribly wrong. His destination had been Crab Key, however he’d been captured by the notorious criminal mastermind Dr Daedalus Crustacian Washington. Surely he should have been a Headmaster, with such an outlandish name? But the middle one must be especially appropriate, given it was so similar to crustaceans….of which crabs were one such species. He was presented pegged out on the ground, with his wrists shackled and his ankles ironed. Needless to say he was starkers, and sporting a straining shaft.

 

“Good morning, Mr Granger….” said his protagonist as he ambled into view. Gracious me, he even sidled sideways, “….and welcome to my humble home. I was known at school as Washington DC….” ha bloody ha, “….which has somehow stuck….” he paused, and smiled down at him in an especially evil fashion, “….I hope you like your quarters….” not much, “….I’ve taken a leaf….well, several such, out of my predecessor in title’s book….so to speak….” which was, he wondered wittily? “….I bought the lease on Crab Key from the executors of Dr Julius No….” ohh….THAT book “….after he was killed in such an untimely fashion by one of your colleagues in crime….” it had been James Bond who’d despatched him, but surely this was all complete claptrap? He was only a mythical character from the pen of Ian Fleming, and firmly in the realms of fiction? “….you’re here to sample something of what Honeychile Rider didn’t….” the heroine in the story, “….since his migratory black crabs were indeed essentially herbivores, and hopelessly harmless. However, I’ve successfully introduced a second species of what are colloquially called Crotch crabs….” oops, “….which ARE carnivores. They harbour a horrid hankering for all manner of man meat, essentially the soft stuff which lies between your legs. It will be dawn in a few minutes, which is when my crabs commence their morning cross-country run….” dammit, would he ever be free of the things?

 

At least though on this occasion he could take a passive part in the proceedings, “….obviously each crab only takes a small slice of scrotum, plus a piece of penis. But there are many gross of them, so after only a few minutes your gonads will be gone. You’ll feel each incision, however they carry an anaesthetic in the claws, complete with coagulant. So at the end of it all, you’ll still be intact….well, almost. After the dreadful deed is done, I’ll ask my wonderful Wife to bring you breakfast….or lunch….” thanks a brunch, he thought wittily, “….and may ask you to please pussy. I gather you’re good a taking a tongue to twat….” he shrugged, “….I never did get the hang of it, since I’m much more a Wham-Bam-Thank-You-Ma’am man myself….” so another Dominant dolt, and look where it had got him?

 

 Perhaps not, since he was the one stretched out, whereas his protagonist had secured the sexual services of a lovely Lady. All he had at home were his three pet rabbits Brenda, Myfanwy and Ursula, with whom he still lived as a menagerie-à-quatre. Surely not, since none of this rubbish was real? At least, he fervently hoped not. “Say goodbye to your gonads, Mr Granger,” said Dr Washington, as he sidled away sideways.

 

He struggled against the shackles, an action which achieved nothing, as it never did. Then a fetching floozy appeared….completely nude. Hadn’t he’d seen her somewhere before? “Good morning, Mr Granger,” she said, “I’m Mrs Washington….although before my marriage it was Ursula Undress….” shouldn’t this be Andress? “….were you wanting one or two eggs?” Did he care, since the Crotch Crabs were approaching? “One please, Honey,” he said instead, Leching Longingly Like A Loser whilst she wiggled away. But why had he called her thus? Hadn’t she been Honeychile Rider….or was it the other way around?

 

But why did she seem so similar to Ursula Smith, his former school mate at St Stricktlands School? It was all very confusing. He gritted his teeth as the first crab sidled up to his scrotum. “NO,” he shouted, as he saw them smiling widely with impossibly large eyes, whilst licking their lips. “AYEEEEE….” he shrieked as it nipped his tucker….so to speak, “….HEEEE,” he added as a second helped itself to a morsel of his manhood. Once again, he threshed wildly….and this time he woke up in his Slave Cage on the floor. A slight snore from above indicated Ava Frasch was still sleeping, so there was nothing to do except wait.

 

Æons later, he heard the telephone by the bed….RING RING. “H..Hello?” he heard, but there was nothing more apart from the click of a replaced receiver. Then he saw two lovely legs appear off the edge of the bed. “Are you awake down there, Shagger?” she asked. “Yes, Ma’am,” he muttered, “and raring to go.” She sniggered softly. “I’m afraid you won’t be going anywhere,” she said wittily, as she unlocked the gate, “and nor will there be any sexual satisfaction. I want you at the screaming stage with a properly pulsing penis for my Presentation….” Oops, “….you’ll be having a whole hour of AHH….” Oh, dear, “….tied tightly in predicament bondage, for an Appreciation Hell Hour.”

 

Cringing, he crawled out from under, and lovingly licked her feet. “A nice try, Shagger,” she said sternly, “appealing to my better nature with some submission and foot worship. Alas, I don’t have one….so you’re wasting your time.” As indeed he’d noticed often enough, but possibly this was why he loved her so dearly? It was always the same, the worse a wanton wicked wench or Witch treated him, the better he liked it. “Crawl into the centre of the room,” she said, “and stop when you reach the Rope Of Rack And Ruin.” He looked around, and sure enough he could see a ceiling pulley complete with hanging elasticised cord. The only question was whether it would be Snuff Stuff or testicular torment? Painfully, he padded into place.

 

Seconds later, she reappeared carrying a heavy item of bondage hardware he’d not noticed previously. OMG….it was a smooth steel leg spreader. “You know all about Bottoms-Up Bars,” she said, “since I once accosted you with one in your study.” Having been left in the lurch. “Yes, Ma’am,” he agreed, “they enable an adorable arse in the air, preferably with pussy and posterior both properly presented for punishment pain….” SLAPP “….Oww….” SLAPP “….Oww….” she slapped his face, “Cocky Little Blighter,” she said, though with a slight smile, “….so sorry, Ma’am. But in this instance I suppose it’s either some slight strangulation, a scrotum for suffering, or seat for spanking and swishing.”

 

He knelt down in the Position For Penance, one well-worthy of worship, and pushed his arms beneath his body. “Ohh….ohh,” he moaned as his ankles were ironed, “ohh…ohh,” he added as both wrists similarly shackled securely. “You’ll be needing Naccatape a little later, Shagger,” she said, “so you may as well have it now.” Doubtless she’d describe it during her Presentation at St Bowlers? “Ohh,” he gasped as she grabbed his gonads, stretched his sac between finger and thumb, and tied it tight.

 

Then she clipped it to the cord. “Eight ounces should do nicely,” she said, holding two lead weights in front of his face. All the best torturers showed their victims first what fate was about to befall them. “Yes, Ma’am….AHHH….AHHHHH,” he gasped as she hung them onto the free end. “Now we’re all sorted out,” she said, holding her hands on hips, “I’ll fuck myself on the floor by mechanical means. I suppose it’s some sort of cuckolding, since all you’ll be getting is frustration fun....” together with testicle torment, “….whilst you watch me at work. I want substantial sexual satisfaction….” so Teasing and Denial, as she set up the system, “….there’s a selection of Thrings Things. I’ve selected The Right Goer for my pussy pleasure.”

 

He watched whilst she attached it to the poking pole and picked up the control console. “Let’s see,” she mused, “first the Cum Controller. It’ll be onto Orgasm….” as opposed to Frustrate, Fuck to Faint….” and I’ll stop at sixteen. For the Speed Controller, I’ll have a Slow Screw….” rather than Fast Fuck….” and finally seven inches for the Penetration Controller….” she smiled sweetly as she lay down on her back and inched forward, “….I’ll be thinking of your similar circumcised sin….” very fucking funny, “….precisely….” so her apparent mind reading abilities were still working well, “….and we’re ready for the off….” or rather On, “….screw you soon, Shagger….uhhh,” she moaned as she pushed the poking pole past her pussy. Then she set down the console, and the fucking machine began.   

 

Time dilated, as it always did when one was in predicament bondage. Very soon, his whole world was the sight of a slut’s successive stimulation. “UHHH….YESS….YESS,” he heard all over again. Suddenly, he saw another pair of pins standing by his body. Oops….as he glanced up. “Room service….” said Tallulah with a knowing smile, and carrying a large tray, “….ordinarily it would the kitchen Staff doing the delivery, but I couldn’t resist finding out what mischief you’d managed. I did knock, but didn’t receive any reply. Where should I put your two breakfasts, Madam?”

 

Ava Frasch stirred. “Mine onto the table please….UHHH…..Miss,” she said without any trace of shame, “and set Shagger’s on the floor….” she gave an especially evil grin, “….a foot out of his reach….” the BITCH, “….make it two….UHHH….can you kindly cut up his fried food, since he’ll be eating it all doggy style….UHHH….and you’re welcome to apply him three strokes, since I saw he was sinfully Spying Up Skirts.” The receptionist smiled. “Thank you so much, Madam,” she said as she strutted towards the table, and set down the tray. There were several sounds of cut food, and then two plates appeared on the floor, followed by a glass and cup.

 

“There’s your cereal and fry-up, bad boy,” she said, “I’ve added a couple of straws for your orange juice and coffee. But first, it’s your neat little bottom….simply Asking for the cane.” So another two dollars, as she strutted away, and reappeared with a rattan. OMG….it was a whippy Whangee weapon, knobbed nastily at irregular intervals all along its lovely length. “HOOO,” he huffed. “An adorable arse in the air in anticipation of approaching agonies,” she mused, “what’s not to like about a So-Sorry-Sir-Ma’am-Malacca model? I’d like to do this slowly, but I really should return to Reception, so it’ll be staccato style.” Straight down, the same as a Sex Thrashing.

 

SWISHHHTHWACKKK    SWISHHHTHWACKKK    SWISHHHTHWACKKK

“YEEE..HEEE..EEEE….THREE….so sorry, MISS,” he yelped, “I’m so sorry for Spying Up Skirts.” Somehow he suspected he was only halfway? “Uhhh….uhhh,” he moaned as she stroked his straining shaft with the stick. “Another three for the Thrill Of A Thrashing,” she said sternly. “UHHH….YESS….YESS,” he heard from Have A Thrash, at another orgasm.

 

SWISHHHTHWACKKK    SWISHHHTHWACKKK    SWISHHHTHWACKKK

“YEOWW..OWWW..WOWW….SIX,” he gasped, “so sorry, MISS. I know I definitely deserved all my derrière discipline….ohh….ohh,” he added as she patronizingly patted his punished posterior. “Enjoy your breakfast, bad boy,” she said as she strutted out of the room. Now he needed to shift himself further forward for his food. “Ahhh….Ahhh,” he gasped as he achieved his aim an inch at a time. Worse still was how the testicle torment was also increasing, as the Rope Of Rack And Ruin was stretched more.

 

“Moan some more….Shagguhhhh,” muttered the teacher, “you know how hearing mere males in pain sets me off.” He HAD noticed. “AHHH….AHHH,” he gasped, as he reached his plates. It would be hard graft, but nothing he hadn’t done before. Reformatory Guards often used this technique on their guests, simply to show who was Superior, and properly put them in their place.

 

Finally he finished, and then his befuddled brain noticed Have A Thrash had gone. He looked around, and saw her sitting starkers at the table, mopping her mouth. “I’ve since showered, Shagger,” she said, “and you should do the same….except you haven’t time….” so who’s fault was this? “….yours, obviously….but it’s past nine o’clock, so your hour of AHH is over….” he glanced at the clock, and sure enough it read 9.03am, “Ohh….ohh,” he moaned as the elasticised cord was released, followed by his wrists and ankles, “….go and get washed. Did Digger say you’d need only your Naccarim uniform?”

 

Slowly he stood up. “Yes he did, Ma’am,” he confirmed as he padded unsteadily into the shower room….where his overnight bag awaited. He’d wondered where it had ended up, not having seen sight nor sound of it since the previous evening. He washed himself as best he could, and brushed his teeth. When he returned to the room with his bag, she was already resplendent in her Games gear. It was seriously skimpy red-hot pair of crimson-coloured hot pants, with conventional matching crop top and plimsolls.

 

“We’re ready to roll, Shagger,” she said, “take my bag too, and go straight down to the car. I’ll attend to the room checkout, and hand in the keys.” He accepted it from her. “Yes, Ma’am,” he replied, “I’d best use the fire escape. Although I enjoy exhibitionism, at this time of day there might be any number of regular guests around Reception.” She nodded. “Sound thinking,” she said sourly, “especially with such a straining shaft.” He padded to the door, and opened it for her. She stepped through, and strutted away along the corridor towards the lift. He took the opposite tack until he reached the fire escape.

 

Then it was down the empty stone steps, which once again weren’t exactly echoing, as he was still barefoot. He reached the base, and stepped outside into the car park. Fortunately the Rolls Royce was quite close, and he hurried towards it. “Good morning, Alf….” he said to the chauffeur, who politely held the rear door open, “….I trust you had a….well, satisfactory evening?” The other nodded. “Most certainly, Sir,” he said evenly, as he boarded, “Rugby Ruby was well worth every new-pound paid.” Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to wait long?

 

According to the car clock it was only four minutes later when the others all arrived together. “Good morning….darling,” he said sweetly, “and everyone else, too.” They too stepped inside, and the door was closed. Finally, Alfred Heath boarded, and then they were away. It seemed the chauffeur had been correct, since their journey did only take eight minutes in all. He watched whilst the car turned off BODLIAN BOULEVARD, through some iron gates, and along an avenue lined with trees. Presumably this was all part of St Bodlians School?

 

They passed some playing fields, one of which he might be getting to know fairly shortly. Then they reached a car park, and reversed into a spot which he’d seen was marked RESERVED. He was well aware how rules and regulations didn’t apply to a Rolls Royce. Uh..huh….he could see several strolling scholars of various ages, and it appeared crimson was the school colour. Their uniform was a three-quarter-sleeved velvet crop jacket, with similar Standard Schoolboy Spanking Shorts, shoes and socks. But it was their matching bowler hats which really rankled.

 

Somehow, it all seemed like a fetish version of Little Lord Fauntleroy. A clock tower quite close struck for 9.30am, as confirmed by the one in the car. “This will all be horrendously humiliating,” he opined, “making a grand entrance like this in the altogether.” There were three sniffs. “Complete cobblers….darling….” said Shirley Greene, “….you’re an expert on exposure and exhibitionism….” put in Have A Thrash, “….and can’t get enough of it,” added Sir Digby Vaillance, “like last night in the car park.” Two pairs of eyes turned towards him, and it was obvious he’d need to explain at some stage. They’d need something to talk about during the drive back to St Sticks. Then he saw a full female figure wearing a crimson-coloured business suit strutting towards them.

 

Alf the Elf opened the car door, allowing Ava Frasch and the noble knight to emerge. Then it was The Green Goddess….and finally him. “Good morning, Ma’am,” he said, his shaft straining, “it’s a pleasure to meet you again….Mmmm,” he moaned as she kissed him….SLAPP “….Oww,” he gasped. “SUCH A SHOCKINGLY SINFUL STIFFIE SALUTE,” she said with her usual sixty decibels. But who had kissed whom, he wondered as always? Then two more figures emerged from a nearby building. Although he’d already met them both, and cringed quietly as they approached. One was wearing a crimson-coloured cape, and carrying a cane which was crooked into a pocket. This time though, he appeared to be properly dressed, with a crimson-coloured Smart suit.

 

“I’D LIKE TO INTRODUCE YOU ALL TO OUR REVERED HEADMASTER,” she said, “DR WILBERFORCE THROGMORTON….” so Will wasn’t William, “….A STRICT DISCIPLINARIAN….” he’d certainly second this, “….AND KNOWN AS THRASHER THROGGER….” hence his other nickname, “….WE ALSO HAVE HEAD OF PT, RHIWBINA WACKEL….” and alias Rugby Ruby, “….WHO I GATHER ANSWERS TO RUBY WAX….WHICH IS SPELLED AS IN SWISHING….” Ohh, “….NOT THE ANCIENT ACTRESS AND COMEDIENNE….” he turned his attention towards her, since she was too wearing crimson-coloured Games gear, identical to Ava Frasch. She must moonlight as a professional prostitute for fun, since her school salary should provide her with a good monthly pay cheque?

 

“ANYWAY,” she continued, “THE HANDSOME GENT IN THE SMART SUIT IS MY FIRM FRIEND SIR DIGBY VAILLANCE….” which must mean they’d met, as indeed he’d suggested they should, “….WHO’S A GOVERNOR AT ST STRICKTLANDS SCHOOL. ON HIS LEFT IS THEIR HEAD OF PT, MS AVA FRASCH….” she paused, “….SPELLED THE GERMANIC WAY….” but what about Wackel? Yes….it was derived from the verb wackeln. A Wackeldackel was a dachshund, or wobble-dog, “….THE WANTON WICKED WENCH WEARING THE PINK GIM UNIFORM….” nothing to do with a pink gin, “….WHICH I’VE ALREADY OUTLINED TO THE GOVERNORS IN MY ORIGINAL PRESENTATION….SHE’S SHIRLEY GREENE, OR THE GREEN GODDESS….” his prefect peer curtseyed, “….FINALLY, WE HAVE THE DASTARDLY DAVID SHAGTON, NORMALLY KNOWN AS SHAGGER.”

 

He bowed. “The only person present who hasn’t been introduced is the Chair of Governors here,” he said, “Lady Soixante Delia Brusch….again with a Germanic spelling.” He wouldn’t mention anything about 60db. “For some strange reason, I almost seem to know his neat little bottom already,” the Headmaster said wryly, “since it is simply Asking for the cane….” as stated earlier, however he’d treat it as another two dollars, “….although I understand it will have to be the crop and the tawse, for the purposes of this new team game. If you would all care to accompany me, we will accordingly adjourn to the playing fields.”

 

Sir Digby Vaillance fell in line beside him, with the two PT teachers following. He was with Shirley Greene, and the Chair of Governors brought up the rear….his, in this instance. “Ohh….ohh,” he moaned softly as she shamelessly stroked his stripes. In reverse circumstances, this would have been considered a floggable felony by the Lovely Ladies Liberation Lobby.  

 

“YOU SEEM TO HAVE BEEN SWISHED SOUNDLY….AND RELATIVELY RECENTLY, SHAGGER,” she opined, “I THOUGHT YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE A PREFECT? OR WAS IT SIMPLY SOME SORT OF SEX THRASHING?” How to put this tactfully? “It was entirely my own fault, Ma’am,” he replied disarmingly, “since I was on the floor when room service breakfast arrived, and caught Spying Up Skirts.” She sniggered softly. “SUCH SIN,” she said, “I THINK YOU’VE BEEN UP TO YOUR OLD TRICKS AGAIN, BAD BOY. WAS IT A NO TELL HOTEL, BY ANY CHANCE?” Rumbled, he reflected. “Yes, Ma’am,” he admitted, and fell silent as he listened to the conversation in front of him. “Noting how your….well, other uniform is also crimson-coloured,” said Ava Frasch, “it seems we share a liking for it. Given your surname, did your family originate from Germany?”

 

There was a neat nod. “Yes,” she replied, “they escaped from East Berlin.” Interesting, “My maternal grandmother’s name was originally Hilda Hartmann, who lived in the City Of Sin,” Have A Thrash went on, “who had a Sister called Hildreth….” she sniggered, “….both names are derived from battle-hardened harridans, but I fondly remember them as sweet souls.” There was a short silence. “Hildreth Hartmann was MY grandmother,” said Ruby Whacks, “which must make us second cousins.” This DID answer a great deal.

 

Several minutes later, they reached an otherwise empty playing field. “Since we are presently in the Summer Term,” said the Headmaster, “there are no Rugby goalposts present. However they will be reinstated over the holidays in time for September. But the floor….well, ground is yours, Ms Frasch.” He folded his arms as she prepared for her Presentation. “As Soixante has probably already explained,” she said, “Naccarim is a contact sport in the very strictest sense of the word. It’s a hybrid between rugby and English football. Each team consists of six bad boys and six booted beauties. The former are required to run with the ball, as in rugger, whereas the feisty females kick it, footer style. We’ll start with the uniforms, which for Shagger is simple, since as you see the studs stay starkers….” she flexed her crop between her fingers, and his penis promptly pulsed with a second schoolboy salute, “….except for the recent innovation of Naccatape, which was actually Shagger’s suggestion….” he smiled sweetly.

 

“I have Sir Digby to thank for introducing me to it,” he interjected, “so the least I could do was to pass it on to the school.” Thwapp “….UGHHH,” he moaned as his scrotum was struck squarely with her crop, “….don’t interrupt me again,” she said sternly, “unless you want more….” maybe he might? “….I’ll pass the package around….” she duly did so, “….you’ll note how This ¾ inch wide white torment tape enables testicles to be tied temptingly tight to taste, and the nine inches of slight scratchiness suits all scrotums. It’s easy to be a balls bulb boy….BEEP BEEP, or alternatively there can be abject agony when taking the testicle twist. It’s down to the referee to decide which approaches are acceptable after a bad boy’s been tackled. Fortunately for the fellas, they aren’t required to wear my BUSINESS Briefs, as they are for PT. They’re Patent Purgatory Punishment Pants….Balls Under Sentence Including Necessary Erectional Sexual Stress. They punish the penis with a series of short semi-sharp steel spikes. The more the erection extended, the worse is the penile pain. With the guilty girls running around with their vulvæ on view, nakedness is a blessing in disguise.” An assertion which was totally true,

 

“But we must move on to this guilty girl,” she continued, “with her Garments Inciting Misery….legs apart, please….” they all inspected her, walking all around as one might when purchasing a fine filly. Even so for the mere males it was more a matter of Ogling Obviously Over her best bits, “….initially the game was only played by the pupils In The Pink….which is the lower 6^th form at St Sticks.  However, it’s since been extended to The Boys and Babes In Blue of the 5^th form. It offers Crop Tops, which if I say so myself are a clever take on an existing garment. They’re supposed to be sexily short…..but not normally with nude nipples, It’s as a facilitation for taking taps to the tits, following naughty nipple inspections....”

 

Shirley Greene held herself accordingly, and licked her lips, “….then we have Shaming Shorts. They have cut-outs at the back, and similarly what’s called a cunt-out at the front….” despite all these difficulties, he knew Naccarim had been noted as being particularly popular with the floozies, “….obviously offering either conventional cropping, or Cunnie Punnie….” as so many sinful sluts enjoyed, “….again there’s an item missing, since it also only features for PT. There are Abrasion Bras, complete with a pin-cushion casing on the inside surface with which to torment the tits, and again the naughty nipples are nude….” Shirley Greene moaned softly, her eyes closed in an agony of anticipation….Whapp “…..UGHHH,” she moaned as her cunt was cropped, “….by all means select a short slot in my Crimson Calendar, and I’ll put you through your paces in The Gymnasium one evening….” rumbled, he reflected, “….you’ll note her matching football boots. They add additional traction, especially when it’s wet, and ensure the bad boys can’t get away too easily whilst running with the ball.” Or at all.  

 

“There are several similarities with rugby,” she continued, “and a Scrunch comprises four fellas first, and two Tarts behind them. The guilty girls are to protect the integrity of the front row, with one hand cupping each crotch. The Lucky Bugger at the back, as he’s known, has his hands around the two wanton wicked wenches’ waists. Although the idea is to get hold of the football, it’s accepted the boots will engage in any amount of balls busting. For some strange reason, Scrunches are very popular….far more so than they’ve ever been when conventional rugby is played. However, it’s tackling which involves the most floozy fun, since the gonads are….well, up for grabs when holding the ball.

 

The spectators will usually shout to their chosen team, ‘knacker’im,’ hence the name of the game. Sinful sluts can’t be tackled, but the ball can be teased from them….if he’s able to bend down and use his hands. This is always assuming he doesn’t get trodden on by a booted beauty. However, should he touch the Tart at all, a Free Kick is awarded. Bad boys tend to be very wary of these, since they’re given by a booted Bitch in the bare bollocks….” he saw Rhiwbina Wackel stroking herself where she shouldn’t.

 

Hardly surprising, since he’d already found out the hard way where her interests lay. But maybe he might get away without one? “….when the ball falls outside the field, there’s a Line-ouch. Six studs stand with six sluts, and the ball is thrown in along the line. The bad boys jump up to catch it….whilst their scrotums are stretched. It’s another high point of the game for the spectators….so to speak….” very funny, “….if a team takes the ball over the Touch-up line, they’re awarded a point for a Try-on. There there’s the chance for a Convulsion….for another point. A dude from the defenders lies on the ground, with the ball placed over his balls. A feisty floozy from the attackers is then allowed to kick it off towards the goal area.

 

Once again, this feature has proved to be particular popular….especially among half the players. At the close, each team awards all their points onto their opponents’ arses with a Tanningtown tawse. It’s what’s used for all….well, tanning at our Sister school of St Templars….” very droll, “….and one of which I’ve brought….” she held it high, “….the only exception is a no-score draw. Then the referee gives everyone six taps, for not trying hard enough. Anyway, as you see, the Crop Tops already carry a number, taken at random from the piles in the changing room. But being naked, the bad boys need to be numbered, and we use felt-tip pens for the purpose.

 

They can either be washable or indelible according to the weather….or what you wish. It’s a bit like branding, only not nearly as painful. The figure itself can be placed on the back or front….or anywhere else….” she took one out of a pocket, “….perhaps you’d care to do the honours, Ruby? Shagger’s normally six, since it’s his lucky number.” Taken from the ancient 1960’s cult TV programme The Prisoner, starring Patrick McGoohan. The other teacher took it. “Bend over,” she said with obvious feeling, “it would serve you right to have your bare bottom branded.” Oo..er….as he obeyed.

 

“I’ll put a zero on one buttock and a six on the second,” she said, matching action with words. “Stand up,” she ordered, as she handed the pen back to Ava Frasch. “As regards team names,” she continued, “this too is the referee’s gift. In this instance, I’d probably have suggested Shagger’s Shower and Shirley’s Studs’n’Sluts. The game starts with a traditional Toss-off, taken by the two team captains. This determines who begins with the ball. Ruby….can you let Shagger have it….?” she smiled, and bounced it once in his direction, “….UGHHH,” he moaned as his scrotum was struck, and he cupped it in his crotch, “….shut up, Shagger….it was simply stated with some subaudition….” yes, “….take Shirley about 100yd away, and then run towards us when I blow my whistle. She should succeed in tackling you.” He didn’t doubt it at all, as he padded away with her.