Chapter 239 - part (1) of (4)

Divorce Day

Brenda Smith awoke at the sound of the main school clock tower known as Big Ben striking for 5am. She’d shared its company for almost seven long years, which would be ended in a very few days’ time. Unless, memory prompted, she took part in Summer School. As an august alumna, or Sometime Scholar, she’d soon be eligible. She felt the bed around her, and discovered she was alone. Somewhat surprised, she opened an eye, and saw the study door was still standing ajar. Her evening dates always left it so, as a courtesy for the morning man. She smiled as she recalled her latest screwing session with dearest Davy’s dad, who’d been at The Styx for the Prize Day just passed.

 

He’d written an advance entry in her NYPD many moons ago, although when it had been made was another matter. She was aware he made irregular conjugal calls to the school, in order to screw several of the Staff. He ran many Mistresses….allegedly around two dozen at any time. There was the Good Doctor….the teacher Fiona Allbright BA BSc MSc PhD. Fifi had once been in a ménage-á-trois with him and Olivia Helen Whapshott at Hanover College, Cambridge. Next there was the august Head of PT….the lean, lithe and luscious Ava Frasch. This strict and sexy Siren, with an intoxicatingly slim waist, always had a particular penchant for married men. He was also screwing the nymphomaniac School Secretary. Sue Sweet’s six Sesquipedalian Sequential Suitor Service Sessions ran three nights every week, between 6.15pm and 11.15pm. There were four further fuckers from 4am, taking the total tools to ten. Somehow this put her own deviance and depravity into perspective, and almost made her feel young and innocent again. She was certainly The Sex Slut Of St Stricktlands School for Year LXXXIX, though it paled into insignificance in comparison to The SS. But she really should sort out her successor, and try to do so later today.

 

Her memory turned back to Georgie Boy, since fucking her fiancé’s philandering father somehow seemed so superbly sinful. He was a serious subbie, with a disciplinary disposition which leaned at least ’levendy ’leven….143 to 1 in old money. However her hubby-to-be would be bonking the brains out of her Mother at some stage in the summer, so dishonours would be equal. But surely some stud should be sleeping with her now? In the light of the early dawn, she slipped out of bed. Then she padded across the room to the door, and opened her Notarise Your Penis Diary. Not the New York Police Department, she reflected as always whilst turning the pages.

 

Divorce Day!  -  lunchtime: Refectory -  2pm: Rectory

                   Hubby (am): Brian Macey 80/g to 40/g →S

Senior Swaps: Nigel Doughty(am) Verity(pm)

Hubby(pm): very nice Bi-some threesome

 

Yes….it was Messy, with whom she’d taken pity and agreed a parting poke. He’d failed in every attempt at Weekly Wednesday Weedings since they’d begun, way back in the Autumn Term. As she padded back to bed, she reflected upon how one couldn’t help but admire his perseverance. Ordinarily this slot wouldn’t have been available, however her de-facto open-husband had taken it upon himself to visit Scotland for the weekend. The attraction wasn’t the scenery, but one Dominetta Grizelda Gutteridge at the University of Aberdeen. After much mutual misunderstanding, they’d finally hit it off, and decided to give it a go in the autumn….always assuming he’d passed his A-Level examinations? She’d enjoyed being Mrs Sharp every Sunday, however she’d not known until recently how he’d harboured hidden hankerings for her former frightful fagmistress. So everything had worked out well.

 

They could go their separate ways, with her to the University of Lancashire. There shouldn’t be too much doubt about even dearest Davy obtaining sufficiently good grades, since he’d successfully stitched up the system. With the Chancellor as a firm friend, not to mention the Admissions Officer, he’d obtained offers of three E’s for his ménage-á-cinq. The quid pro quo, or Reciprocal Exchange, was they’d all be required to attend The Tell-tale Tit every month. It would be fucking fun and frolics for all four floozies with Sir Digby Vaillance in this No Tell hotel, and dished derrière discipline for Davy by the noble knight.

 

Finally, she heard movement as a pathetic pink figure shuffled into the study. She glanced up at the wall clock and saw it was 5.12am. “What time do you call this, cretin?” she demanded, she sat up in bed. He cowered convincingly, even as his shaft strained. “I’m s..so sorry, Missus,” he stammered, “I was afraid you’d p..put me into p..predicament bondage all over again….as you’ve done every week for the Weedings.” She emerged out of bed again, and put on a black shower robe. “I will,” she said sternly, “so for starters, you’ll have a time of AH….” Appreciation Hour, and he fell to his knees in the Position For Penance, “….in the Bottoms-Up Bar, since you’re practically in place already.” It was one well-worthy of worship, with his arms outstretched. “No….mercy, Missus,” he moaned….SLAPP “….Oww….” SLAPP “….Oww,” he gasped as she struck each cheek.

 

“No mercy it is, Messy,” she said wittily, with the usual wilful misunderstanding, “so we’ll make it AHH instead….” Appreciation Hell Hour, “….I’m not expecting much of you. According to CBT, you were incredibly clingy, and at the same time taking her terribly for granted.” His former girlfriend Celia Briony Tew, who’d given him the old heave-ho. Then she shifted the smooth steel leg spreader behind him. “Arms back,” she ordered, and he moved them beneath his body. “Ohh….ohh….” he moaned as she shackled his wrists, “….ohh….ohh,” he added as both ankles were ironed around them. The position also meant his legs were spread fetchingly….SMACKK “….Oww….” SMACKK “….Oww,” he gasped as she smacked his seat sharply, before padding across to her study back wall. As always, it was completely covered with instruments of coercion and correction.

 

She helped herself to the Humbler and a riding crop, before returning to the Bottoms-Up Bar. “Your scrotum will suffer substantially,” she said, kneeling behind him. “Ohhh….” he moaned as she took hold of his testicles, “….AHHH….” he gasped as she twisted them tightly and turned them, “….UGHHH….” he continued as she pulled them through the hole. “….ohhh….” he repeated as the second slat was slipped into place, “….Ahhh….AHHH….” he added as the wooden screws were tightened around his testicles. “This is bit I enjoy most,” she said as she took hold of the Humbler, rotated it, and pulled it between his legs. “….AYEEEEE….HEEE,” he gasped as his scrotum was suddenly stretched, with the Humbler hard up against the base of his buttocks at the back. “Enjoy,” she said, as she retreated back to her bed, “you’d best hope I wake up again at six o’clock.” He stared at her helplessly as she closed her eyes.

 

Big Ben was suddenly striking again, although quite clearly 6am had passed. Oops….since according to her wall clock it was 6.30am, so he’d had over an hour. “I have to talk to someone,” she said sternly as she arose, “don’t go away.” Ha bloody ha….he’d be saying silently. With this, she padded out of the study, and started along the gloomy corridor. Hopefully this would all heap more mental misery on him. Quite honestly he deserved it all, since he’d been really rotten to Davy for the past year. They’d once been fairly firm friends, but jealousy during Year LXXXVIII still had the better of him. So despite Davy’s Private Study penance every Monday lunchtime to make amends, he’d remained completely cold. Although just maybe, she mused, his phenomenal failure with the Weedings might have been a contributory factor?

 

She reached the Level 3 landing, and started up the stone steps. At this early hour they were both empty and echoing. Not from her passage, since she was barefoot, but undoubtedly from some stud’s Sex Thrashing. The whacks wafted on the wind, and then a second set started, so the sex was good this morning….Bang. She reached the Level 6 landing, and started down into the depths….Bang. What was the witticism? Yes….The Cunt At Infinity, a mathematical construct of Davy’s own making. It represented a destination desperately desirable yet utterly unobtainable….BANG. They were louder now, as she approached the source….BANG.” Slightly unnerved, she reached study 24….BANG. Was it some sort of firearm she was hearing?

 

David Shagton

Quis illum sceleratum fuisse putavisset

 

Who Would Have Thought He Was A Scoundrel, read the Latin logo….her, for one. She knocked politely, and waited. “Entarrrr,” called out a feisty floozy, so she opened the door and stepped inside. Oops….since it seemed dearest Davy was definitely in difficulty. He was shackled spread-eagled to a big board in the centre of the study, upon which was a white heavy-duty clad covering. She could similarly see two wanton wicked Witches, in the Wild West wear. It was Calamity Jane style, with black tassel soft leather top and slacks. Then there were winkle-picker black cowgirl boots, complete with steel spurs. There was nothing much else apart from matching cowgirl hats and bullet belts….allowing bare backs, and beautiful bottoms. “Good morning, Bren,” he said breezily, “may I present two of the Records Rooms Registrars….” ohh….THEM, “….Betty Knorr to your left, and Arlene Gunter to your right. They’re known as Bête Noir and Air Gun….” very droll, “….which is all too appropriate, since as you see I’m firmly in their firing line….” they both turned to face her, “….meet my Missus, Mesdames.”

 

They all shook hands. “We’ve met, Davy,” she said, “last Friday afternoon at six o’clock, when they both showed up at my study, whilst waving an illegible beat sheet. They didn’t actually state their names, however I rather recall their rattans on my rear….some six stingers each….” she shrugged, “….I hadn’t found a moment to tell you about it, and I don’t say I didn’t deserve the discipline. But Mesdames, we really will be wedded at the end of August, so I’d be grateful if you didn’t put any bullets into his balls.” There were two separate sniggers. “Your handwriting DID improve after your short sharp shock,” said Air Gun, “as is so often the case, after one of our little visits of vapulation….” a good word, taken from Grahame’s Guide to Grandiloquisms, meaning flogging or flogged, “….it’s sound stress relief at the end of a long, hard day. But we’re superb shots, and you’ll see we’ve made an outline all around his body.”

 

She padded up to him, and sure enough she could see lines of bullets all imbedded in the cladding. “Obviously, the best bit is when we do along his legs,” said Bête Noir, “it’s simply a question of how close we go to his gonads. Would you like a demonstration?” She nodded, her heart thumping, since it was somehow incredibly erotic. Clearly, dearest Davy’s distended dick agreed, as it was pulsing at the provocation. She stood to one side, whilst Arlene Gunter took careful aim….BANG “….HOOO,” he huffed as the metal landed an inch beneath his balls. She could see how his straining shaft was shedding semen slightly, clearly under severe sexual stress. “You’re obviously in….well, unsafe hands, Davy,” she said, “so I’ll just deliver my message: Kindly be at the Rectory for two o’clock this afternoon, as Amen Carmen has agreed to run through some of the wedding arrangements….although I may be late, since I’m on Refectory duty. I’ll want you in the altogether, but you can keep a pair of black shoes to maintain your prefect’s privileges en route….” she paused, “….and Naccatape.”

 

It was hardly an imposition, since he was an incorrigible exhibitionist who enjoyed wandering around the place unclothed. Hopefully though, she might finally get to see the Parish Priest’s Gonads Guillotine? He’d told her all about it from his previous visit, and if so he’d be well prepared. “Most certainly, Bren,” he replied, “although if I’m not there, I may have taken Umbrage….” in the Medical wing, when sufficiently unwell even Nurse Crusher couldn’t throw out the sufferer. She regarded illness as insolence, and her personal prescription for a headache was six of the best. But Kristina’s bedside manner had always been less like Florence Nightingale, and much more Comrade Colonel Rosa Klebb. She was the horrid harridan of Ian Fleming fame in….well, From Russia Without Love, “….meantime, how are you making out with Messy?”

 

 

She stared at him. “How did you know about his session, Davy?” she asked. “I found out yesterday evening,” he confirmed, “since Feely Ceely mentioned it.” Uh..huh. “Has he been up to his old tricks again?” she asked. “She was a damsel in distress,” he replied, “since her Dominant dolt of a date had been a Wham-Bam-Thank-You-Ma’am, man.” Of which there were many. She did her best to avoid them, but it wasn’t always possible. When one of them won at the Weedings, she was stuck with him. Still….it was only for a single session. It always made her realize how much happier she was with switches….preferably sixdy-sixdy. As was she herself, six dozen to the gross, or even-steven.

 

“Go on, Davy,” she urged. “She hadn’t had any orgasms,” he explained, “and he was an obvious oralophobe. Since Messy had been moaning for ages about taking a tumble, she’d offered him the opportunity….” BANG “….HOOO….he said she could sod off, since he was saving his spunk for what would be a better bonk, one with Conscious Cunt Contraction Control….BANG “….HOOO….worse still, HE wouldn’t please pussy, either….” BANG “….HOOO….so I stepped into the breach with oral appreciation….” BANG “….HOOO….we couldn’t copulate, since I’d just taken a twat twice,” BANG “….HOOO….but were able to sleep together until changeover time….” BANG “….HOOO….hopefully, I should have the wherewithal with which to assist these Amazons….” BANG “….HOOO….always assuming I still have a scrotum.” She nodded, knowingly. “The completely competent Cunt Casanova, as always,” she said, “and don’t worry, I’ll soon sort him out….” she paused, “….it’s your final period of Private Study with him tomorrow. He doesn’t know where I am, and isn’t aware of who shopped him. But should he do anything out of the ordinary, his scrotum will suffer substantially….” she flexed her fingers, “….having been one of The Six Knackerers last year, he should know I mean business….” she winked once, “….let me leave you with your lovely Ladies. I hope they’re both able to enjoy your fancy to the full.”

 

They both nodded. “Seven inches of circumcised sin,” said Air Gun, “although we’ve a dozen more bullets to fire, first.” He cringed quietly in terror, although his tool twitched. “There’s a sheet on my desk, Bren,” he said in strangled tones, “which is my last Deposition….” hopefully not his Will and Testament? “….I’d like you to look it over before it’s taken to Terrence. You can return it to me this afternoon….one way or the other.” She nodded, ambled across the study, and rolled it up. “Sue Sweet won’t like it a lot….” opined Betty Knorr, having clearly read it already, “….weeks of work wasted,” added Arlene Gunter. She pocketed the paper, padded out of the study, and closed the door behind her….BANG “….Hooo.” Oh well, one down and eleven more to go. The likelihood was low, although the threat was absolute….BANG. She reached the Level 6 landing, and started down the steps again….Bang. The sounds of shooting finally faded at Level 3, replaced by more conventional Canings For Cunt. Finally, she reached study 17.

Brenda Smith

Hodie mihi, cras tibi

 

It Is My Turn Today, Yours Tomorrow, she reflected as always….and ever so apt for a switch. She opened the door and padded inside to find Messy was where she’d left him. It would have been a nine-day wonder, had anyone released him in the interim. “I’m so glad you’re back, Missus….” SLAPP “….Oww….” SLAPP “….Oww,” he gasped, “It’s Ma’am, if you don’t mind, Messy,” she muttered, “and I’m afraid you won’t be very shortly….” he stared at her with worry, “….your sins have found you out. I’ve heard all about how you spurned Silly’s amorous advances yesterday evening. It’s all pretty pathetic, and even if you couldn’t bring yourself to bonk her, you could still have pleased pussy. So it’ll be another hour….only worse.”

 

She rolled a large apparatus behind him, which looked a little like a fairground wheel, standing some six feet in diameter, “….this is my group’s General Studies project….” she plugged it in to an electric wall socket, “….called The Big Weal….” what wit, “….obviously not spelled W-H-E-E-L. It’s a threshing….or rather thrashing machine for tenderizing tools, testicles and tushes. In your case, it’ll be the third of the three….” he wriggled, a pointless procedure. “NO,” he shouted….would he never learn? “….fine, so we’ll make it more….” she was rewarded with a simple sob, as she removed three of the six radial spokes, which had once been flexible plastic fly swatters. An ambiguous phrase, since the flies in question weren’t made of the material, nor were they so inclined.

 

Then she adjusted the remainder, “….two spokes will spank your seat soundly….beating both buttocks, one after the other. Then the third will tap your tool to make it tingle. I’ll be generous, and set it to slow, with one revolution per minute.” She pressed the start button, and the spokes started to spin….Whapp “….Oww….” Whapp “….Oww….” he gasped….Whapp “….Uhhh,” he added, from sinful stimulation. “Enjoy,” she said with a yawn, “since I’m going back to bed.” He stared at her with honest hatred, whilst waiting for the worst….Whapp “….Oww….” Whapp “….Oww,” she heard as she retreated back to her bed….Whapp “….Uhhh.”  Then she extracted Davy’s Deposition, and slipped between the sheets.

 

On: Same Sex Fagging

Mesdames et Messieurs – With what will almost certainly be my final Deposition as a scholar at this illustrious educational establishment, I write in connection with the system of fagging. Although this has traditionally been accomplished by a scholar of the same sex as his fearsome fagmaster (or her frightful fagmistress) it occurs to me this need not necessarily be the case. I am reminded of researches by previous prefect Samantha Terrier during Year LXXXVII. She made a special request of the School Secretary to be allocated a fella for senior fag, and apparently there was no actual prohibition in the school rules. As matters turned out, it was MY bare bottom which bore the brunt of her beatings for Year LXXXVIII. I in my turn asked for and was allocated Mitchell Mary Murphy for senior fag, and Kelly Morgan for junior. Both these critters were caned competently and comprehensively for cause without complaint during Year LXXXIX. Having requested regular and repeated receipt of the rattan, I was able to ensure The Pirate was sent out of my study with a suitably stinging and sore seat. (I must mention my Mitches too had specifically asked her parents if she might be sent to St Sticks. One principal reason was because St Judes School in Letchhampton solely swishes studs, and not sluts. I have since spoken to my former Headmaster, proposing the principle of posterior punishment for guilty girls).

 

Whapp “….Oww….” Whapp “….Oww,” he gasped….Whapp “….Uhhh.”

 

Upon further reflection, the same sex limitation is regularly breached by the system of Senior and Junior Swaps. In this connection, my prefect peer Myfanwy Smith has already done a Deposition with regard to the S7….the Standard St Stricktlands School Study Scrotum Snatcher. It was with the suggestion they should be made available to pretty prefects, for the primary purpose of pulling appropriate parts during such Swaps. Likewise for pink bowties, enabling naked waiter service. (High-heeled shoes would present no problem, already being available).

 

Whapp “….Oww….” Whapp “….Oww,” he gasped….Whapp “….Uhhh.”

 

But given the inescapable evidence of two years’ experience with no ill-effects (other than suitably stinging seats) may I offer the idea of young bucks for prefects-with-pussy, and sinful sluts for those with penis. I appreciate there may be many instances where the present arrangements are preferred. Obviously the gay guys might well be much happier as matters stand, and likewise the lovely Lezzies. As regards the Bi-Babes and boys….well, almost anyone might be acceptable.

 

Whapp “….Oww….” Whapp “….Oww,” he gasped….Whapp “….Uhhh.”

 

The School Secretary has achieved an outstanding success rate with fagging placements over the years, and I would not wish to detract from her achievements. However, this proposed amendment would simply allow her greater flexibility. I commend it to the Governors for adoption forward from Year XC, and remain yours faithfully, David Shagton, prefect.

 

OMG….this was all making her horrendously horny. “Uhhh....” she moaned as she stroked her slit, “….uhhh….uhhh….uhhh….uhhh….” Whapp “….Oww….” Whapp “….Oww….” he gasped….Whapp “….Uhhh.” She was nearly there. “UHHH….yes….YESS….YESS,” she murmured, before turning over in orgasmic ecstasy. Then she closed her eyes.

 

Big Ben suddenly struck, and she awoke at once. She glanced up at the clock, and saw it was 7.45am, so again he’d had in excess of an hour. She glanced down at him, and saw a sad sight. He was completely covered in sweat, and his hair was a shambles….really Messy, in fact. “I’m so sorry, Ma’am….” Whapp “….Oww….” Whapp “….Oww....” he croaked as she arose….Whapp “….Uhhh.” She padded towards one wardrobe, opened it and hung up her shower robe on the door. Then she took out a pair of black riding boots, padded across the study and switched off The Big Weal. “You can provide me with a handy footstool,” she said, putting one boot onto his back. “Ohh….” he moaned as she trod her left foot into it, and zipped it up, “….ohh,” he added as she repeated it with the right.

 

“Lick them both, Messy,” she ordered, standing at his head, “although you’ve been let off licking labial lips, since my twat’s been totally turned by your torments.” He made several feeble attempts to do so….THWAPP “….Ahhh,” he gasped as she struck his cheek with the crop. “You can do MUCH better, Messy,” she said, “then you can think about a boot as I beat….” what wonderful wit, as he struggled to obey, “….since I may as well also address your Sex Thrashing.”

 

She strutted away, and collected a cane from her bedside cabinet. Ordinarily, it would be used to administer a Caning For Cunt for the lucky lad lying on the bed, with a Pillow Punishment Points Of Pain. It propped up the posterior, but also offered a sewn-in circular pressure pad of pure pain which was completely covered with small semi-sharp spikes at ⅛ inch intervals. Though this morning, Messy could have the hits in situ, since his arse was already in the air. “You may recall,” she said didactically, “how I administered a dozen due to dearest Davy yesterday evening on The Podium….” for the first of his brand-new Sinner Swishing Saturdays at six, “….although in accordance with my cunt currency, I’ve a special tariff for subbies. You edge eighdy to fordy….” or eight dozen to four, “….sloping somewhat to submission, so it’s a thorough thirdeen.…” formerly a frightful fifteen, “….so now you’ll suffer substantially for your sins….” she paused, “….but best put any thoughts of displaced revenge onto my worse half out of your mind….” he nodded weakly as she gauged the angles, “….staccato style in threes, so it’ll all be over quite quickly….” which wasn’t for his benefit.

 

She’d overslept, and they’d still to screw before the fags arrived….Shaggette and Dirty, “….you may kiss the cane, to confirm your innate inferiority and insipience.” Another good grandiloquism, this one meaning lack of wisdom. “Mmmm….mmmm,” he murmured as he did so, lovingly. Most likely, he’d prefer it to kissing her. “You can state some of the Standard Subbie Swishing Sentiments,” she said, “with one after each set of strikes.”

 

SWISHHHTHWACKKKK    SWISHHHTHWACKKKK    SWISHHHTHWACKKKK

“YEEE..HEEE..EEEE….THREE, thank you MA’AM,” he yelped, “prolonged and painful posterior punishment puts me properly in my place, Ma’am.” Second and subsequent staccato style strokes stung much more, since they landed on the same spot. But Sex Thrashing ones were worse, since they struck straight downwards. Still, she hadn’t spunked him first before flogging, so he should count his blessings.

 

SWISHHHTHWACKKKK    SWISHHHTHWACKKKK    SWISHHHTHWACKKKK

“YAROOO..OOOO..HOOO….SIX, thank you, MA’AM,” he gasped, “I deeply desire derrière discipline, Ma’am.”    

 

SWISHHHTHWACKKKK    SWISHHHTHWACKKKK    SWISHHHTHWACKKKK

“YEOWWW..OWWW..WOWW….NINE,” he gasped, “a nasty nine, thank you, MA’AM. I believe bad boys’ bare bottoms benefit from beating, Ma’am.”     

 

SWISHHHTHWACKKKK    SWISHHHTHWACKKKK    SWISHHHTHWACKKKK

“YEOUCHH..OUCH..OUCH….TWELVE,” he gasped, “a dozen due, thank you, MA’AM. Please be HARD with me….since I’m hard with you, Ma’am.” An action easily achieved    

 

SWISHHHTHWACKKKKKK    SWISHHHTHWACKKKKKK    SWISHHHTHWACKKKKKK     

“YIKES..YIKES..YIKES….THIRDEEN,” he gasped, “a thorough thirdeen, thank you MA’AM. Thank you for my thrashing, which was thoroughly therapeutic.” Despite all his faults, at least he was completely competent at contrition. “Ohh….ohh,” he muttered as she released his shackles, “Your tenderized tool appears to have leaked a lot,” she said as he shifted his stance and rubbed his wrists, “so let’s hope it’s learned its lesson. I don’t like living in a mess, Messy, so sort it out….there’s a good lad.” She collected the cane, as he shimmied around, and set it down onto her study table.

 

Then she watched whilst he licked up all the liquid which had fallen from his fancy onto the wooden floor. “I’ll ride you round the room,” she said, “ending up at Sexy Sammy’s Riding Bench for Expert Equestriennes.” Which had originally been Olivia Helen Whapshott’s General Studies project….Davy’s Mum, and placed permanently in this study. “Ohh….” he moaned as she sat on his back, “….MMMM,” he added as she stuck the crop between his teeth as some sort of bit. “MMMM….MMMM,” he gasped as she stuck the spurs into his sides. “Giddy-up, steed,” she ordered. “MMMM….MMMM,” he repeated as he commenced his crawl around the study, with the Humbler hardly helping.

 

Newsletter - February 2023

A (belated) Happy New Year to everyone, although alas it hasn’t been for me thus far with a really rotten January and what’s being called the forever virus. It’s a dreadful cold which won’t go away….and so far I’ve had it for five weeks. Which partly explains why there was no January newsletter – I simply couldn’t face it. Also there was the problem of communications with a land line out of action for nearly three weeks (and I happen to live in an area of almost no mobile (cell) phone reception. But things are improving gradually on both the technical and medical fronts.

 

Chapter 239 was emailed to monthly subscribers yesterday, and will roll out on Blogspot in its usual four parts, hopefully starting this Friday. Obviously there was no sneak-preview, so treat it as a surprise. Chapter 240 in March starts the run-up towards the end of the book (at Chapter 246) which is the Final Full day for the Summer Term at The Styx for Year LXXXIX. Thereafter it’s holiday time in various guises until we return for the narrative about Shagger’s wedding.

 

Enjoy, and best swishes for 2023

Dave

 

Chapter 238 - part (4) of (4)

By the time she’d stopped stroking, the French failures had long-since left….whoever they’d been. It was impossible to concentrate on anything whilst being edged effortlessly….other than feelings of floating. “Next up, if you please,” said The Headmaster, “and do not be shy, bad boys and guilty girls….” more laughter intervened, “….it is Biology, for which Mr Basil Sileas Crabbe will do the honours.” He saw BSc stand, and flex his fingers in readiness for the awards. There was loud applause as the six winners all appeared on the Podium, with Lynda standing second in line. “I want to watch these, Silly,” he whispered, “so can you give me a brief break?”

 

She let him loose. “Uhhh,” he moaned as she scratched his sensitive scrotum with her long nails. “We’ve the Little Red Ridinghood who’s received the rattan on the rear already for two terms,” he announced, “from dorm 1X, in The X-Men….” hadn’t they been some sort of ancient comic characters? “….we have….Watson, Winkler.... ….” the way he’d swaggered across the stage whilst strutting his shaft SURELY meant he was made for The X-p♂sers of dorm 5X in four years’ time? They had personality, poise and panache, “….for The Yellow Perils and dorm 2J….” The Juni♀rs, “….we have Hallows, Vera….” he paused, “….who has the herbal nickname of Aloe Vera….” loud laughter, and he caught coarse comments, “….’ullo, Vera….” from somewhere further in front, “….for The Little Girls in Green, from dorm 3F, and actually for the second year in succession….we have Pusey, Gail….” The little fuckers….and one for which he’d be doing the deed with a conjugal call. Since she was now in his Cute Cunt Calendar for Forward Fornication,

 

“Well, bad boys,” commented The Interrogator, “do we not all enjoy pussy galore?” There was loud, lewd laughter….from the same jibe as Year LXXXVIII, “….for the Brownies and dorm 4B, we have….de Ville, Christina….” she was seriously svelte and short in stature, with a irresistible impish grin, impossible to ignore, “….which is The Balls Busters, bad boys,” added Iain Terrence Hayter obliquely. “Ohh,” he heard from several sources, and it was obvious many mere males were unconsciously cradling their crotches, “….for our Babe In Blue, dorm 5P….” The Pliants, “….and the same stable as Shagger….it’s Shagton, Lynda….” there was prolonged applause, “….and finally our prize winner In The Pink….is Bottomley, Horatio….” another of the various brothers, “….of dorm 6C….” the six canees, the fourth and final CP dorm, “….present your posteriors, and bottoms UP.” He recalled standing in a line like this, having won the same prize last year.

 

Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk    Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk    Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk 

“Yeee..EEEE..HEEE….THREE,” yelped Wanker Watson, “thank you for my prize, SIR.” Presumably his parents would be proud….or not?

 

Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk    Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk    Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk 

“Yeee..HEEE..EEEE….THREE,” yelped Aloe Vera, “thank you for my prize, SIR.” 

 

Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk    Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk    Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk 

“Yeee..EEEE..EEEE….THREE,” yelped Pussy Galore, “thank you for my prize, SIR.” 

 

Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk    Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk    Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk” 

“Yeee..HEEE..HEEE….THREE,” yelped Cruella, “thank you for my prize, SIR.”  

 

Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk    Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk    Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk 

“Yeee..EEEE..HEEE….THREE, thank you for my prize, SIR,” yelped Lynda.  

 

Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk    Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk    Swishhhhhthwackkkkkk 

“Yeee..HEEE..EEEE….THREE….” yelped Hot Bot. “Stand up,” said BSc, “acknowledge the Chair, and away you go.” They arose to yet more applause, the bad boys bowing towards his Aunt, the guilty girls curtseying. Then they disappeared down the spiral staircase. “UHHH,” he moaned as Feely Ceely starting stroking his straining shaft all over again. 

 

Once again he was away in a euphoric haze where everything was wonderful. “Ahhh,” he gasped as five nails suddenly dug deep into his nuts. “You’re on in a second, Shagger,” she whispered. “This concludes all the prizes for year LXXXVIII,” said The Headmaster on cue, “so may we please have all our birchees….?” he arose, and padded forward past his appreciative audience, together with the further five floggable felons. Then they ascended the Podium, and approached the Block, as The Smith Sisters stepped out from the ranks of the Staff, “….it is standard practice to record birchings for posterity….and The Camera Club….” who’d enjoy watching them at their monthly meetings, “….for which Mr Sileas Crabbe will oblige….” he gestured towards Silage, who’d since set up his equipment facing the Podium, “….I understand it is to be a dozen due from Missus,”  

 

He knelt on the first step, and bent forward over the top one with his hands on the floor. Now his arse was in the air for the application of all agonies. He turned his head towards the Governors, and smiled sweetly at his Aunt Marge. It was with the so-called swishees’ smirk, often offered by culpable canees in class, as a prelude to public punishment. It was the one which says wanly, ‘Hell….I’m about to be hit hard, and my hiney will hurt horribly,’ and absolutely apt for the action. “Exposure and exhibitionism doesn’t get much better than this,” mused Poke Her. “A neat little bottom,” she muttered, “simply Asking for the birch.” So another two dollars for his collection of when it was complimented. Sir Digby Vaillance, seated beside her, nodded knowingly. Brenda Smith picked up the instrument of posterior pain, and held it against his hiney. “In sets of threes, Davy,” she said sternly. 

SWISHHCRACKK “….OWW,” SWISHHCRACKK “….OWW….”  SWISHHCRACKKK “….OWW..Whacko! MA’AM,” he gasped. “For anyone who has not previously witnessed a birching over the Block,” said Iain Terrence Hayter, “Shagger has the protocol quite correct, since it is essentially the rather rare Rapid Responses. There is no cut count, salutation or affirmation of appreciation, although contrition at the close is welcome. The wonderful word Whacko! is used the world over, and its common contention is: Please Hit My Hiney Hard….” he paused, “….do continue, Missus….I am sorry to interrupt.” SWISHHCRACKK “….OWW,” SWISHHCRACKK “….OWW,” SWISHHCRACKKK “….OWW..Whacko! MA’AM.” HOW his hiney hurt, yet they were only halfway….SWISHHCRACKK “….OWW,” SWISHHCRACKK “….OWW,” SWISHHCRACKKK “….OWW..Whacko! MA’AM.”  

 

Somehow, the noble knight was now stroking Aunt Marge’s skirt suggestively, although she was making no objection. Rather the reverse, since she was holding his hand between her legs….SWISHHCRACKK “….OWW,” SWISHHCRACKK “….OWW….”  SWISHHCRACKKK “….OWW..Whacko! MA’AM,” he gasped, his heart somehow singing even as his shaft strained. “Next,” said The Headmaster, “Shagger will suffer Six For Sex from Miffy Smiffy. She will not be excluded from his fucking favours in the future, since she hopes to be a part of their ménage at University….” A-Levels assuming, “….which is actually à-cinq.” There were gasps from all around the hall….SWISHHCRACKK “….OWW….” SWISHHCRACKK “….OWW….”  SWISHHCRACKKK “….OWW..Whacko! MA’AM.” The Smith Sisters swished similarly, in addition to screwing….SWISHHCRACKK “….OWW….” SWISHHCRACKK “….OWW….”  SWISHHCRACKKK “….OWW..Whacko! MA’AM….I love you both so much.” There was another huge round of applause.  

 

“Arise, Shagger,” said The Headmaster, as he duly did so, “….we have seen some seven inches of circumcised sin, however next on our agenda is Wanker Boy Will, with eight of erotic enjoyment….” more mirth, as William Shanks took his place, “….first, he will suffer six slow strokes from Mr Alixander Fall.” SWISHHCRACKKK “….AHH..Whacko! SIR,” SWISHHCRACKKK “….AHH..Whacko! SIR….” proudly, and with what he hoped was personality, poise and panache he paraded off the Podium….with a perpendicularly pulsing penis. As his prefect peer’s punishment progressed, he agreed how Hercules Poke had been quite correct with his earlier contention. He smiled as he passed his parents, then the Watsons and Joneses….who seemed to have swapped spouses.  

 

Finally he reached his seat, and saw it was occupied. “Shall we go, Shagger,” said Saucy Harry, “since I’ve seen sufficient swishing, and it’s time for you to take tool and testicle torment….” Oops….as she arose and put an arm around his waist. They continued to the back of the hall, where Dirty Harry awaited them, “….the tour didn’t finish until late, by which time all seats had been taken. I was able to use Cuck, on his hands and knees, but then yours became available.” They passed the double doors, and started into the first of the long, dark cold corridors. “I should have been sent to St Sticks,” mused Harry Callaghan, “they know how to humiliate and humble here….and hit hineys hard.”  

 

Spoken as a true subbie. “I suggest your better half calls Sue Sweet,” he suggested, “and asks if there’s a slot for a Shagger’s Schoolday Sojourn, sometime. They’re for invitees to sample St Sticks on Arrival Afternoon, and the following first full day of term….including lessons. It won’t be with me, since I’ll have long since left, but perhaps with my protégé Harry Herbert Orwell.” He smiled widely. “Thank you, Shagger,” he said, even as Saucy Harry’s hand drifted down to his derrière. “Ohh….ohh,” he moaned as she started to stroke his stripes. 

 

Several minutes later they reached the entrance hall for the Prefects Study wing. “I’m afraid it’s a long trek,” he said as they started up the empty echoing stone steps. Most unusually there was no distant discipline to be heard, since almost everyone else was otherwise occupied in the main assembly hall. “I’ll go first, Shagger,” she said, “then you can do some Straying Up Skirts….which doesn’t include you, Cuck.” Her husband gave him another look of loathing. “It’s not fair, Ma’am,” he said sulkily, “you never give me these treats.” They rounded the Level 1 landing, and started up the second. “I may have mentioned one of the school’s unwritten rules,” he said as he strayed suitably, noting there were no naughty knickers. “Ohh….ohh….you really RUDE wretch,” she moaned as he fondled her fetching fanny, “I’ll get your gonads good for garters.”  

 

Promises….but again, who’d asked whom? “I’ve an interesting box of tricks to show you in my study, Ma’am,” he said, “which should be straight up your street.” There was a soft snigger. “It makes a change from etchings….or production statistics, Shagger,” she replied wryly, as they reached the Level 6 landing. “This….huhh….marks a mathematical construct of my own making, Ma’am….” he huffed slightly as they started along the gloomy corridor, “….it’s called the Cunt At Infinity….” there was a sniff from Dirty Harry behind him, “….representing a destination desperately desirable in the distance, but utterly unattainable.” Clearly the concept resonated inside his sinful psyche.  

 

 

“It’s something with which I suffer most of the time, Shagger,” he said sourly, “especially since I’m currently incarcerated inside a KTB….” gotcha, “….I don’t mind telling you it was painful perusing those prizes….but at least I’d been spunked soundly by the milking machine.” She must have affixed it immediately after his branding. “We have to go all the way to study 24, Ma’am,” he said as they continued their trek. “I’ll be going all the way with you, bad boy,” she confirmed wittily, “as there’ll be pussy pleasure….after plenty of pain. I like the idea of having whipping boys, so Cuck can take your Caning For Cunt….” better yet, “….which you may recall is a dozen due. I’ll apply it when we get home this evening….” so they wouldn’t be staying? “….much as I’d like to do so, I’m working overtime tomorrow, even though it’s Sunday.” Clearly her apparent mind reading abilities were working well. 

 

David Shagton 

Quis illum sceleratum fuisse putavisset 

 

“Who Would Have Thought He Was A Rascal,” he confirmed as he pushed open the door, and stood aside for her to pass inside. She did so with alacrity, and they both followed her. “Always assuming Harry’s about to be cuckolded again, Ma’am,” he said, “he can watch from the wall. Shall we say some scrotum stretching, enabling what we call a time of AHH….Appreciation Hell Hour?” He gestured towards the shackles, and she nodded. “Strip starkers, Cuck,” she ordered, “and I think half a pound should suffice.” He opened one wardrobe, and removed a large cardboard carton. Dirty Harry’s clothes had already been stacked neatly on the floor when he returned, so he’d learned something at her hands. “Ohh….ohh,” he gasped as his wrists were shackled, and ankles ironed. “This is what I was telling you about, Ma’am,” he said, as he showed her the label.  

      

His Box of Tricks™ 

suitable for studs and slaves over sixteen  

Penile Punishments and Testicular Torments 

A total of two dozen different deviant disciplinary devices 

guaranteed to give all bad boys a hard time 

Shackles, irons & gags included for best bed bondage 

Also an Assortment of lead weights from 2oz to 2lb 

 And Testicle Tease Whips, plus Ropes of Rack and Ruin 

Precision Equipment supplied by:- Myron and Myra Torcher, Knaxville, TS  

 

He opened the carton, and extracted a Spiked Balls Parachute plus two 4oz Lead Weights. “AHH….” he gasped as the poppers were pressed into place, and the spikes bit his balls, “….AHHH,” he added as his scrotum was stretched. “I like it already, Shagger,” she said, “Cuck….buy me a box for last Christmas.” Very witty. “Yes, Ma’am….AHHH,” he repeated as his penis pulsed, and the KTM countermanded the action. Clearly, he liked the thought of it all, too. “We’re fully equipped for bed bondage, Ma’am,” he said, as they walked across the study, “with Standard St Stricktlands study bed-bondage features. I’ll lie on The pillow Punishment Points of pain, and you can immobilize me likewise.”

 

He set the carton onto the floor, and placed it as previously. “AHHH….” he gasped as he lay across it for the second time today, “….ohh….ohh,” he added as his wrists and ankles were shackled. “I’m afraid we won’t have time for more than a few devices, Shagger,” she said with a wide pout, “but Cuck can help out over the next few weeks….” unlucky lad, “….I can see there are three Kali’s teeth bracelets, but I won’t apply them to you now….” she was interrupted, “….don’t see why not….AYEEEEE….” gasped Dirty Harry, as she tugged his testicles, “….so sorry, Ma’am,” he added humbly, “….basically because I want to torment his tool….” Ohh, “….so we’ll begin with these luscious-looking spiked Gonads Gloves….as your nuts need knackering.” Most definitely.

 

 “AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH,” he gasped again and again. “You’ve signed my Sheet, Shagger,” she said, “so I’ll demand my dues.” Yes, MA’AM. “AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH,” he gasped, as this time his scrotum was stretched, “I am so much your stretch slave, MA’AM.” He shivered slightly as she picked up the Wartenberg Pinwheel and held it high. All the best torturers did so, as it enabled an erection to anticipate all agonies. “NO,” he gasped, meaning Yes….and essentially Stop It I Like It. “AYEEEEE….” he shouted as she stroked it along the supremely sensitive space between both balls, “….EEEE….EEEE….UHHH,” he added as it probed the primary pleasure point of his pulsing penis. He railed against the shackles, which naturally did nothing at all….apart from reinforce the feeling of futility.

 

Several minutes of sheer suffering later he was already sweating, acutely aware all this agony was simply for starters. “I’ve never seen an Organ Grinder before, Shagger,” she said softly, “apart from the conventional kind on street corners….” which came complete with a monkey, “….so I shall be fascinated to find out what one feels like.” Which wouldn’t be her. It comprised two flat circular plates, one having a hole with which to serve the scrotum, and the second to squash it up against each abrasive sandpapered surface.. “Ohhh….” he moaned more loudly as she pulled both his balls through the hole, “….ahhh….Ahhh….AHHH,” he added as she successively tightened three wing nuts. “I REALLY enjoy this bit,” she said, as she took hold of a large knob in the centre of the second plate, “….AYEEEEE….” he squealed as it rotated slightly, and the sandpaper strafed his scrotum, “….HEEE….HEEE,” he added as she shifted it back to its start.

 

The time of testicle and tool torment had reached almost an hour, and she’d had him inside the Knacker Cracker for what seemed forever. It was fiendishly simple, with two slats of wood, one of which had a hole. She’d tightened the two together with the wing-nuts, thus squashing his scrotum, and he was in acute agony. Then she rolled up her skirt with the so-called Tart’s Trademark. “Please pussy, Shagger….” she urged as she sat astride his body, and shimmied up to his head, “….and give me half a dozen cums. I’ve been on the edge for the past half hour.” Clearly, he wasn’t about to be released until she was satisfied. At least he wouldn’t need to worry with long licks to get her going. “UHHH….UHHH,” she moaned as he tackled her twat with his tongue, “YESS….YESS,” she shouted….SLAPP “….Oww,” he gasped, “Did I say stop, Shagger?” she asked, as quickly he resumed his work.

 

Finally, she’d had her fill, and shimmied down his body. “It’s time to take tool,” she announced, “although I’ll leave the Knacker Cracker for now….” thanks a bunch, “….this uniform enables lovely Ladies who’ve been left on the shelf through no fault of their own to claim compensation from the mere males….although I agree in reverse circumstances, it would be called rape….” his point precisely, “….so I shall screw you in the Superior style….with a suffering scrotum. Best not to cum before me, or your testicles will be toast.” He didn’t doubt it. “Best of luck, Shagger,” put in Dirty Harry, “I came too quickly last week, which is why I’m still locked up….Ahhh….and it’s the severe version.” Ouch. “UHHH….UHHH,” she moaned as she slithered along his straining shaft. “UHHH….MA’AM,” he muttered, “I’m so much your innate inferior…..UHHH….simply a plaything….UHHH….a phallus for pussy pleasure….UHHH.” She smiled sweetly. “Thank you, Shagger….UHHH,” she said as she humped him hard, “it’s always good when a mere male knows his place….UHHH….” he’d have to concentrate on differential equations, rather than the penile pressures, plus pain, “….UHHH….YESS….YESS….YESS,” she moaned, her chest heaving. “AHHH….HELL,” gasped her husband, “it always sets me off when I’m cuckolded….AHHH….UHHH….AHHH.” At least it wasn’t his problem. “UHHH….Harry,” he moaned, “I’m about to spunk….YESS….YESS.”

 

He spurted semen several times into the slit called Harriet Palmer. “Once more for the road, Shagger?” she implored. “I’ll do my best, Ma’am,” he muttered as she started to hump him, harder this time. “Cuck will be paying handsomely….uhhh….for the privilege,” she said, “you’re aware my cunt currency’s a dozen due….uhhh….so now it’s twice the tanning.” A tough brief being open-married to her, but he’d said Yes, so had only himself to blame. “I’m almost there….Ma’am….UHHH….YESS,” he moaned as he spurted a second time, far more feebly. “Well done….Shagguhhhh,” she whispered with a wide pout.

 

Slowly, she lifted herself off him, and his soft shaft slipped out. “Ohhh,” he moaned in real relief as she removed the Knacker Cracker. He rubbed his wrists after she released all his shackles and leg irons. “Thank you, Shagger,” she said brightly, “a most enjoyable evening….” she stared at him sternly, “….although I could have done with several more similarly during your time of tenure.” He’d let it lie, as she released Dirty Harry likewise. “Pick up your clothes, Cuck,” she said, “can you kindly escort us out, Shagger? We’ll all go as we are….and Cuck, it’ll be your lucky night, since you can drive Dubiously Dressed all the way home.”

 

A somewhat suspect practice, of which he was especially fond. It was basically being bare below the belt, although alternatively in the altogether. “Yes, Ma’am,” he replied reproachfully, “always assuming I’m not arrested along the way. But I’m grateful for the facility, and also for the opportunity to undergo an amount of exposure and exhibitionism, whilst we walk back to the car park. It doesn’t seem to faze Shagger, so I’m happy to follow his example.”

 

He picked up his pile of discarded clothes, and together they stepped out of the study, leaving the door wide open. Harriet Palmer walked beside him along the gloomy corridor, fondling his fanny all the way to the Level 6 landing. “You’re both welcome to attend my wedding,” he said as they continued down the empty stone steps. This time they were echoing, with distant discipline wafting on the wind, “….it’ll be a Dominatrix do….” he recalled what she’d once told him about hers, “….somewhat similar to yours….with married males wearing Wedlocks, and Bridesmaids beating me along the aisle.”

 

Harry Callaghan shivered suddenly, probably in painful memory. “AHHH….Ma’am,” he muttered as his KTB hit him again. “It’s your own fault, Cuck….” she said without sympathy as they reached the base, and started into the long, dark cold corridors, “….if you didn’t have errant erections for thinking Inappropriate thoughts, you wouldn’t have penile pain….” totally true, but hardly helpful, “….I’m glad you’re our guide, Shagger, since I’d never find my way out of this hellhole.”

 

Several minutes later, they arrived at the double doors of the main entrance hall. “You should be able to locate your car from here, Ma’am….Mmmm,” he moaned as she kissed him hard. “Au revoir, Shagger,” she said, “thanks for all the erotic entertainment, your testicles and tool….and skill with oral appreciation, which in all honesty is still a lot better than Cuck’s….” Oops, “….if he wants the KTB off sometime soon, he’ll have to up his game considerably. It’s amazing how mere males make every effort, when the alternative is fearful frustration for the foreseeable future.” Harry Callaghan gave him another glare, as though it were all his fault….which in one way, it was.

 

 

Together Wife and husband walked away in the gathering gloom of the summer’s evening. He gave them a final wave, before crossing the hall again and selecting the correct exit from the six such. Then it was into the anonymously identical corridors back all the way to the Prefects’ Study wing. He started up the first flight, still with an afterglow which….well, came with completed coitus. Some studs were about to score….or had done so, since he heard three Canings For Cunt in quick succession. “Huhh,” he huffed as he reached the Level 6 landing, and heard a study door slam ahead of him. “Cretin,” he heard a vitriolic vixen’s voice shout as he started into the gloomy corridor. Oops….since it was Feely Ceely. “Something I said, Silly?” he asked politely as he reached study 1.

 

Brian Macey 

Si potuero, faciam 

 

“Not at all, Shagger,” she replied in calmer tones, “I’d done my date for this evening, but Hugh and I is a Dominant dolt….” as he’d asserted earlier, “….which wouldn’t please pussy. I suppose it’s my own fault for not insisting first before fucking….although I did add several strokes to his Sex Thrashing as insult money. But Messy’s been asking for ages to take a tumble, so I foolishly thought he’d be happy to help me with a couple of cums, coupled with coitus. After all, he’s never really got over being given the heave-ho by my near namesake….” Celia Briony Tew, now CBT, “….but Rick The Prick’s gone to Aberdeen for a dirty weekend with Domme….” good for them, “….and it seems Mrs Sharp’s agreed to give him a go tomorrow morning….” as was his Missus on Sundays, “….having failed on every attempt to win with Weekly Wednesday Weedings….” her competition for cute cunt, whereby tools were teased under testicular torments, “….and she agreed out of charity. So he said I could sod off, since he was saving some semen for what would be a better bonk….one with Conscious Cunt Contraction Control. Hell….HE wouldn’t even please pussy, either.”

 

Always accept offers, and never compare cunts, he reflected sagely. “He should follow the advice in his Latin logo,” he replied, “If I Can, I Shall Do It….” he paused, “….I’m afraid I haven’t the wherewithal, since I’ve just taken a twat twice….but even so, I’d be honoured to approach your best bits orally? After all your earlier erotic efforts, it seems the least I can do. I’ve just escorted my own date off the premises, and my bed’s mine until the morning.” She smiled widely, and slipped her hand under his arm, again in Happy Hooker fashion. “Very gracious,” she agreed, “some competent cunnilingus would be most appreciated. Then we can sleep together until changeover time….” between 3am and 4am, “….since I too have a date tomorrow….” she fondled his fanny, “….I can feel all those lovely birch marks….” since she WAS Feely Ceely, “….but where’s the flogging for the fancy you’ve just fucked?”

 

He smiled sweetly as they reached his study, and gestured her inside. “I was able to utilize a whipping boy,” he replied, “Harry Callaghan, who’s the open-husband of Harriet Palmer. She’s the lovely Lady who took my seat whilst I was on the Podium. It was as well, since after my birching over the Block, I’m still seriously sore….” he paused, “….could you give me a moment to freshen up?” He hurried into the shower room, and quickly washed his face and fancy.  

 

When he returned, she’d switched on the bedside light. Whilst she stripped starkers, placing her clothes into a neat pile on the floor, he returned The pillow Punishment Points of pain to its rightful position. Then he replaced His Box Of Tricks back into the wardrobe. Next, he straightened the bed, although Mitches would have more work to do in the morning. She lay down and lifted her legs, holding them high with her hands….and spreading them wide. “Please presented pussy, Shagger,” she urged as he knelt next to her. “Uhhh….uhhh,” she moaned as he gave her the long licks from fanny and fancy to forest, “….uhhh….uhhh….thank you so much….uhhh….for showing me how it should be done, Shagger….UHHH,” she added as he delved deep and nuzzled her naughtiness with his nose. “Licking labial lips is a labour of love, Silly,” he replied, now they were equals. “How many have you done today….uhhh?” she asked, as he thought it through.

 

“Yours are the fifth pair,” he replied. “It’s not sodding surprising you’re an exper..uhhht,” she said, with obvious difficulty, “and it won’t….uhhh….take very long for me to reach a….uhhh….comprehensive conclusion….uhhh….UHHH….I’m going….UHHH….and cumming….YESS….YESS.” She let her legs drop, and her quim quivered. “It’s not fair we can’t fuck, Shagger….huhh,” she said sulkily, “being so close to coitus.” He smiled, as he picked her up, and tucked her neatly beneath the bedcovers. “Oooh….you’re so Masterful,” she squealed. “There’s always Summer School, Silly,” he suggested, as he joined her on his side between the sheets, and switched out the light. “Goodnight, Shagger,” she said, rubbing herself up against him, “You too,” he replied, as he slipped towards sleep.

 

To be continued……

 

strapped striped seat

Chapter 238 - part (3) of (4)

 Prize Day – Year LXXXIX

 

Finally, his soft shaft slipped out of the cute cunt called Irene Marge. “Here’s a tissue, Shagger,” she said, taking a second. They both wiped themselves down, and dropped them into a wastepaper basket. “Get dressed, Shagger,” she said with a smile, as she tied her overall again. “Thank you, Ma’am,” he said, “I’ve always had a light lusting for lovely Ladies in latex, and your oilskins admirably fulfill my filthy fetish….” SLAPP “….Oww….thank you, Ma’am.” He continued to replace his basic black uniform, and put his cane back beneath his belt.

 

“It’s time to let one of my milkees loose,” she said, “since the poor sod’s been going for over half an hour. It’s the one called Cook….” Oops, “….which is really Cuck,” he interrupted, “as in cuckold, so it doesn’t much matter. Even so, I expect he’ll be grateful for the release, since he spends so much time inside a Kali’s Teeth Bracelet.” When he was respectable again, they returned together into the shed. “No more….uhhh….mercy….Ma’am,” moaned Dirty Harry, “I’ve long since secreted all my semen….ohh,” he added as his nozzle was removed, revealing a placid penis. Next it was his noose, and finally his shackles and leg irons. “It’s not Cuck’s day,” said Saucy Harry, “since whilst you were away with what-ho, I’ve spoken to someone about having him branded….permanently….” there was a moan of despair, “….we’re expected shortly, Shagger.”

 

She crooked his arm, in Happy Hooker fashion. “I’ll look forward to your flogging, David,” said his Mother. “So will we,” muttered Tyler Watson, “are you attending Summer School?” He nodded. “The final week of August, Mesdames,” he replied. “It’s his wedding on the Saturday,” said his Mother absently, “David didn’t mention it, but fortunately his bride-to-be wrote last week.” Damn’ decent….since this was before she’d put HIM the proposal. Presumably, she felt it to be a fait accompli….which it was. “We’ll wait a while longer….” he heard Tight Twat saying as Saucy Harry and the others strutted towards the barn door….Harry Callaghan slightly shakily, “….until they’re all definitely done and dusted. Then we’ll join Helen in The Dell for some whippings in the woods.” Which WOULDN’T be much fun for the studs, being spunked out. Still, once again they’d all signed up to such treatment. They stepped out into the sunlight, and crossed the courtyard to his next destination of doom. It was out of the frying pan, and into the fire….almost literally.

 

The Blacksmith

malleo in malleatoris incus

 

“I’m reliably informed the Latin logo means Hammer Into Anvil, Ma’am,” he said as they stepped inside. As per his previous visit a few weeks previously, it was horribly hot and really rather reminiscent of hell. A large, roaring furnace adorned the centre of the room, and electric lighting was entirely absent. Once again it was standing room only with black figures. “Excellent,” said Gestapo Mark, as he saw them, “if all the Farmers could kindly stand back, we can get going with our next brandee.” As before, he was naked from the waist up, wearing only the black hobnail boots and matching long leather trousers from the Whipmaster wherewithal. Even they came complete with a cut-out for the crotch. A similar one at the rear revealed a particularly pert posterior, over which it was almost impossible not to ogle.

 

The teacher’s legendary felt-tip pen had always been a bit like branding. His horrid habit was to apply arses with what amounted to the famous MG marque….his initials, in indelible ink. “As advertised,” Mark Guest continued, “most animals in here today will return to school having suffered only slightly….with their owner’s initials, or lucky number of their choice in hot paint on their posterior….” Ohh, “….however, we’ve a supremely submissive specimen, who’ll be branded permanently….” there were several gasps, “….and its owner’s signed a release form….” presumably on his behalf? “….so off we go. She’s asked for the letters H P, with one on each buttock. So stand well back, since I shall shortly take out two tools….” the well-worn witticism, “….in addition to my straining shaft. All Farmers are welcome to stroke themselves whilst they watch. First of all, we’ll strap him across the trestle….” he duly did so, with Dirty Harry appearing to be highly unhappy.

 

The teacher strutted to the furnace, and extracted two red hot irons. Then he marched across the room to where the unfortunate felon awaited his fate. “MA’AM,” he moaned. There was complete quiet as the first iron moved closer, and he was glad it wasn’t him. “AYEEEEE….HEEE….EEEE….HELL, it hurts,” he shrieked at the first touch on his tush, “….AYEEEEE….EEEE….HEEE,” he added at the second. There was a spontaneous round of applause. HISSS….went the irons as they went into a bucket of water. “I suggest some salve on him sometime, Ma’am,” he said, “but now I’ll release him into your tender care.” Or not, as the straps were removed, and a pained Dirty Harry arose, holding his hiney. “Thank you so much, Sir,” she said, “it’s something I should have done years ago.” She grabbed her hubby’s ear, “Ohh,” he moaned as she frogmarched him outside.

 

“Did you have any other plans for him, Ma’am?” he asked politely. “Definitely, Shagger,” she replied, “he’s already suffered a session inside the pigsty, and met Turnip….” the big boar, “….and next it’s the pig paddy field. Apparently, there’s no shortage of mud, so it should cool his tender tush. Even if it doesn’t do so, there’s always Dowsing Duty as a fitting finale.” He nodded. “Obviously I too will look forward to later, Ma’am,” he said, “however might I cordially recommend you both consider taking two hour teachers’ tours? They commence at the main entrance, with the final one at five o’clock. I daresay there’ll be the opportunity to partake of some food when you visit The Canteen. They terminate at the assembly hall, so you’ll end up at the prize-giving ceremony as it’s about to start.”

 

She nodded. “An excellent suggestion, Shagger,” she said, hugging him hard, “where are you off to next?” He smiled. “Would you happen to have the correct time, Ma’am?” he asked, “since it’s fagging at four, and I need to know how fast to walk back to the school.” He glanced at her wristwatch. “It’s exactly three twenty to three, Shagger,” she replied, “so quick march, and I’ll screw you soon.” So he hoped, as she held her hubby’s hurting hiney. “Ohh….ohh,” he moaned as she guided him away. As he followed the track in a different direction, he realized he’d never asked about the Jones’ nicknames. Most likely, they’d both have been JayJay, or The Jays.

 

Big Ben was striking for 3.45pm when he reached the abandoned remains of the monks’ kitchen gardens from the original Stricktlands Abbey. He crossed the Staff car park, and continued inside the buildings through the side entrance. Distant discipline was still evident, even though it was Prize Day and there were no lessons anywhere as a result. Then it was into the long, dark cold corridors. He reached the Prefects’ Study wing, and started up the stone steps. At this hour they were anything but empty, as fags hurried towards their destinations. It was all in an effort to avoid application of the agonies, against the charge of Lateness. However, as a cane-carrying prefect, he was given a wide berth.

 

“Huhh…huhh,” he huffed as he reached the final flight, and the traffic started to thin out. All right, so he WASN’T fully fit again. However, he’d just walked all the way from the Home Farm….following a fucking, so surely there was some justification? Then he continued all the way along the gloomy corridor to study 24….where the door was wide open. He stepped inside, and saw both his fags had arrived already, both still wearing their unisex slave aprons and high heels. “So which one of you two terrors was born in a barn?” he asked wittily, as he gestured towards it. “She did, Sir,” they both replied in unison. “In which case, it’s one whack on both your beat sheets,” he said, “thus ensuring the culprit is caned for her crime.” There were two sniffs. “It’s not fair, Sir,” said 3M sulkily, even as The Pirate stamped her foot.

 

“One more for Mitches….Arguing, again,” he said, “and also for Kelly, only for her it’s Lack of self control. Sexy Sammy failed to flog it from you, and it appears I haven’t succeeded either….” he paused, “….I wish your frightful fagmistress better luck in a year’s time….” unless it was her fearsome fagmaster. He’d HAVE to do his final Deposition, before it was too late, “….bend over, both of you. Actually I’m grateful, since flogging your fetching fannies will help me recharge my batteries. I’ve just screwed someone, and as you saw from my Cute Cunt Calendar, I’ve another lovely Lady later. I’ve every intention of edging myself by the perusal of porn, however it can wait until you’ve departed for dinner.” They both assumed the Position.

 

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“Oooh..OOOH….TWO,” gasped Mitchell Mary Murphy, “thank you so much, SIR. I’ll admit it was me with the door, Sir….if it helps at all.” Not really….since it was too late to worry. “There were two strokes outstanding from this morning, Kelly,” he said, “so those are first.”

 

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“Oooh..HOOH….TWO,” gasped Kelly Morgan, “thank you, SIR.”

 

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““Owww..WOWW….FOUR,” she gasped, “thank you, SIR….I know I needed them, Sir. But surely there’s no need to be bothered with pornography….since you’ve two twats standing ready and available for inspection. You could wear my naughty knicks over your nose….” not for the first time, “….we’ll be fucking next February, so you could just regard it all as a presented pussy preview.” Thirdeen going on thirdy, but this had always been the case. “Two more for various Vulgarities, Kelly,” he said, “with one for Impertinently Imparting Information. However….are you in accordance with such sordid suggestions, Mitches?” She spread her legs wide in answer, as did The Pirate. “Please, Sir,” she said softly, “it’s my turn to offer you the naughty knickers….” which was true, “….perhaps you could pretend it’s Panty Pervert Pete pulling his penis in the public park.” A sound suggestion.

 

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“Yezz..YEZZ..YEZZ….SEVEN, thank you, SIR,” gasped Kelly Morgan, “swearing’s another horrid habit which should have long since been beaten out of me.” He set down the stick and stripped slowly, stacking each item neatly. Then he padded to his wardrobe and put on his black Lee van Cleef cloak, which would mean keeping his prefect’s privileges. Samantha Fuck Me Harder Terrier always wore black high-heeled shoes on her so-called Naturist days for the same reason. She’d tease his tool….before tanning his tush terribly. Then he picked up Mitches’ pair of pink knickers.

 

“Uhhh,” he moaned as he placed them into position, and inhaled her choice cunt scent. “Uhhh….uhhh….” he repeated, stroked his shaft and encouraging an errant erection, “….I’m a wanker boy….uhhh….which wants to wank worthlessly with wanton wicked wenches….uhhh….as it’s the closest I can….well, cum to cute cunt….uhhh….uhhh….separate your slits….uhhh….uhhh….” already his shaft was straining from the stimulation, “….we’re doing well….uhhh….uhhh….turn around and look me in the eye….uhhh….holding hands on hips….uhhh….with disdain and disgust at my deviance….uhhh….” the same as so many pretty pictures in WANKER! with the lovely Ladies leering. It really WAS a magazine which spoke so strongly to his sinful psyche. Even the injunction on the front cover said it all: Feel the shame of taking your favourite magazine to the checkout Lady, “….the horrendous humiliation is so squirmingly and sordidly scrumptious….uhhh….and works wonders for my wavering willy….uhhh….and you might take a picture for posterity and the Camera….uhhh….Club….uhhh….anything you say or do until we’re finished will be freebies for posterior punishment purposes.”

 

They both turned and stitched suitable expressions of scorn. “You’re a pathetic panty pervert….Peter,” said Kelly Morgan, “….a lecherous loser in love….” added Mitchell Mary Murphy, “….you want cunt….” said The Pirate, teasingly, “….but you can’t get cunt,” added 3M, equally so, “the lovely Ladies laugh and leer….” definitely, “….you should be castrated for your crimes….” yes, “….I’ll make a suitable start by knackering your nuts nicely….again.” He continued to stroke his shaft as she took hold of his testicles. “AHHH….AHHH….AHHH,” he gasped, bending forward as his scrotum was squeezed, “….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….” FLASHH….as The Pirate performed, “….AHHH….me balls, Ma’am.”

 

Slowly he straightened, and she handed over the camera to 3M. “Now it’s my turn to tackle your testicles,” she growled. “AHHH,” he gasped all over again….FLASHH “….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….more….uhhh….uhhh….only harder….uhhh….” she tightened her hold, “….AHHHHH….AHHHHH….AHHHHH.” Finally, after an eternity, she let him loose. Slowly he stood up straight, his shaft similarly so. “Thank you both so much,” he said, “I can see you’re both highly hot and bothered, so there are free hot showers available for each of you, with as much Wasting Water as you wish….” he paused, “….this was our final Dressing Down Day, all of which I’ve enjoyed immensely. I hope you have, too?”

 

There were two neat nods. “Yes, Sir,” said Mitches, “and I expect to offer the same facility to my fags next Autumn. Even if they’re bad boys, it’ll be good practice for them with wearing high heels. I watched you wearing yours so well at the Summer Balls last Thursday, and it should be a skill for all studs and sluts.” He could only agree. “You go first Mitches,” he said, “whilst Kelly makes my meal. I shall make up my beat sheets, and then have a short snooze, so leave everything in the oven for later. When you fetching floozies finally finish your filthy finger fantasies, you’re dismissed for the day. Report at eight o’clock tomorrow morning, since it’s Sunday.” They both curtseyed politely, and Mitches strutted away towards the shower room. Then he sat down at the study table and picked up his clip board. First of all, he turned to his Prefect Beat Sheet.       

6. ++++ Prize Day ++++

7. Ewell, Servalan, dorm 5A, Incitement: 1, Disrespect: 1. Total:2

 

Next it was Kelly Morgan’s again, after updating entry 3 from earlier.

4. DDD: 1, lack of self control: 1; Vulgarities: 2  III: 1– Total: 5 – TAKEN

 

Finally it was his senior fag’s sheet

10. Dereliction of domestic duties: 1, Arguing: 1

 

Then he padded across the study, and took to his bed. Sounds of a slut sinning under the shower were somehow so stimulating, however he closed his eyes and ears.

He’d eventually been woken at 6.30pm by Big Ben striking. Both fags had long since left, so he’d eaten his dinner alone. He’d stored his cloak, and padded out of the study. The wing was strangely silent, but most of its occupants would already be en route to the main assembly hall. It was sometime shortly before 7pm when he reached it, and passed the wide-open double doors. He continued inside and saw several end-aisle chairs had been duly labelled. He located his own, and sat down. “Hello, Shagger,” said Celia Johnson beside him, “I saw your name, and wondered whether you were wanting any assistance in endless edging and gooning?” As indeed she’d achieved during the old-Hundred Bum-up Challenge,

 

“An excellent suggestion, Silly,” he replied, “since I’m somewhat short on semen, and I’ve a date due. My fags have helped out earlier, but since you said you’d be pleased to put me into these states of semi-oblivion a second time….well, feel free after the prefect prizes. But do bring me back to earth in time for my star turn.” He glanced up at the clock, and he’d timed it right….6.59pm precisely. The Interrogator was in place on the Podium, together with all the teachers. Recalling the similar events from Year LXXXVIII, the school Governors would all be sitting in the first row of an appreciative audience. “There goes my Aunt Marge, Ma’am,” he muttered as the Chair of Governors strutted up onto the stage. Inevitably she wore her Tanningtown style standard black leather business suit, with its strict short leather skirt.

 

“Greetings, everyone,” said Margaret Whapshott, “and welcome to Prize Day for Year LXXXIX. After awarding the prefect and subject prizes, we have some additional items this evening. I’ve long since said the cane’s too good for my naughty nephew….and niece….” so it seemed his Sister HAD similarly succeeded, “….you’ll see St Sticks has brought back the Birching Block….” she gestured towards it, and there were many murmurs of obvious approval, “….for flogging exceptionally sinful specimens in the 5^th and lower 6^th forms. It’ll be alternative agonies available after Explaining themselves, with some sinful sixdeen strokes instead of an automatic Detention. Three villains have volunteered for various vapulations….” floggings….as contained in Grahame’s Guide to Grandiloquisms, “….administered in accordance with disciplines due….” she smiled, “….in advance of the system starting in September. However, three explainees have already asked for the facility. So it’ll be six swished scholars….but not necessarily the best….” there was loud laughter, “….I’ll now hand over to The Headmaster.”

 

He stood up and bowed. “Thank you, Margaret,” he said, “and my own warm welcome to all parents, august alumni, invitees and scholars over sixteen. We will commence with the various prizes, starting with The Autumn Thrash. This is where a pretty prefect punishes the posteriors of all the pupils-with-penis In The Pink in the shortest possible time. The Trophy has been held by Mrs Helen Shagton since Year LXVII….” there were various gasps, “….alas her longstanding record of 9^th November has now been….well, beaten….” more mirth, “….by one day. Our winner Beatrice Dore-Marjorie was once known as Margery Daw or Seesaw, but is now BDM….so beware, bad boys….” he heard many mutterings of, “Oo..er,” and, “Yes, MA’AM,” from around the hall, “….please step forward.” She arose from another end-aisle seat on the other side, and strutted towards the stage.

 

There was wild applause as Aunt Marge shook her hand and presented her prize. “Stay where you are, Bea,” he said, “since now we have the two winners of what is now known as the old-Hundred Bum Up Challenge Cups. Beatrice has successfully scored a double, since she has won for the pretty prefects….with a time equalling that of Year LXXXVIII. For the prefects-with-penis, it is Richard Sharp….please step forward.” From behind him, his former dorm captain stood and strode onto the Podium. Both Cups were awarded to loud clapping, as the two prefects returned to their places, and Aunt Marge followed to the front row. “As we have a new fitting finale,” he said, “we will now award the prize from the Department Of Deportment.”

 

This was something he’d missed last year, having left the Undercroft after receipt of his prize. It was the way one carried oneself whilst walking, and all pretty prefects were required to attend one class every week. “The lucky winner this year is….” there was an expectant hush, “….Andrea Pawling….” she arose from her seat….starkers, apart from a pair of black high heeled shoes plus a back board strapped to her shoulders, “….should she make it up to the Podium with Volume 1 of St Stricklands: A Hiſtory balanced on her head, her prize is three whacks. However, should it fall off en route, it is six of the best.” He watched whilst she walked, her back impossibly straight.

 

Slowly, she started the steps, and there was complete quiet. Suddenly, on only the second, the heavy book fell off with a loud clatter. “Which was absolutely appalling….Appalling,” said The Headmaster wittily, whilst wielding the weapon, “such a shame….” wheeewww, it went whilst he swished it through the empty air, and she flinched visibly, “….bend over, Andy. It will be six strokes, showing us all your superb seat.” She duly did so, her high heels accentuating the angle of attack, as always.

 

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“Yeee..EEEE..HEEE….THREE,” she yelped, “thank you, SIR.”    

 

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“Yeeoww..OWWW..WOWW….SIX, thank you SIR,” she gasped, “thank you for my prize, Sir….ohh,” she added as he stroked her stripes with the stick. “Steady as she goes….so to speak,” he said to loud applause. She proceeded back down the steps, and retrieved the fallen book. Then she stepped stiffly past the appreciative audience to her seat again with what was clearly the classic canees’ gait of guilt….and a wide smile. But then, she’d been in dorm 6J the previous year. The six jailbirds was yet another CP dorm, so she might even have failed badly for the purposes of posterior punishment.

 

“We now have a new prize,” he said, “which once again will be awarded by acclamation, and administered by our newest Governor….Sir Digby Vaillance….” there was a round of polite applause as the noble knight stepped up to the Podium, dressed as always in his Smart suit. It was extremely expensively tailored bespoke Savile Row stuff….black pinstripe, suitably silky white shirt plus matching tie and shiny shoes, “….these are the Mrs Shagton Rear Of The Year awards….” he paused, “….may I use this opportunity of wishing them both well, since she is to become Shagger’s wonderful Open-Wife on the last Saturday of August….” there was wild applause, “….sometime scholars attending Summer School will be welcome to attend the ceremony at St Esstrickts Parish Church.

 

But returning to today, these awards are for the pertest posteriors of the pupils In The Pink, as voted by all the present prefects. For the guilty girls, it is….Totton, Holly….” loud applause, “….who managed a massive ninedy three per gross of the vote….” over nine dozen of the total twelve, “….and for the bad boys we have….Orwell, Harry Herbert….” more clapping, “….who achieved eighdy six….” he watched whilst the two lucky winners padded in parallel up onto the Podium to face their appreciative audience, “….notice they are each wearing Short Shirts. These too are a new innovation, by kind courtesy of H₂O himself, who did a Deposition to the Governors. You will see they are specially shaped, sewn and seamed to remove much of the material.

 

The collar is unchanged, but at the back it is cut away just below the shoulder blade. A three wide inch tongue carries the buttons, and likewise allows the year colour tie to be worn conventionally….” he smiled slightly, “….for sinful sluts, an added advantage is it also enables an instant naughty nipple inspection, since a beautiful boob is proudly presented in place of a pocket….” there were loud guffaws, followed by several gasps of pain….presumably as many mere males got their gonads grabbed, “….please turn around, and present your perfect posteriors for punishment. It will be three strokes each in the staccato style….then you may arise, and return to your seats.”    

 

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“Yeee..EEEE..HEEE….THREE,” yelped Hotty Totty, “thank you, SIR.” There was more clapping, with obvious approval. “One of the best bums in the business,” he confirmed.  

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“Yeee..HEEE..EEEE….THREE,” he yelped, “thank you, SIR.” They both bowed and curtseyed to the Chair, and padded off the Podium. “Harry’s neat little bottom seems somewhat similar to Shagger’s,” he said, “since it seems they are third cousins.” There was more loud applause, and he waited for it all to subside. “Next,” he continued, “all ten prizes will be applied by the respective Heads of department, with one lucky winner from each form. So without further ado, it is time to swish six of our least successful scholars in every subject. They will also wear Short Shirts, rather than the caning aprons from years past. As you know, at St Stricktlands School, you get….well, bottom marks for bottom marks….” more mirth, “….first on the fanfare of failures are for French, for which Mr Mark Guest will officiate.”

 

He watched whilst the six felons appeared from the top of the black metal spiral staircase, likewise wearing Short Shirts, and padded across the Podium. “Turn around, and assume the Position,” he ordered as they presented their posteriors for punishment. He saw The Gestapo Marker append a black felt-tip to each of the six seats, all of which winced. The MG mark was named after the sports cars which carried the famous MG marque. It was a bit like the brandings he’d seen earlier, albeit not nearly as painful. Probably, Dirty Harry wouldn’t appreciate it at all. “Uhhh,” he moaned as his tool was taken in hand by his prefect peer, and all rational thought ceased.