Jonathon Player looked at the boy sprawled on the sick bay bed. He had kicked the covers off, restless with a fever. Adrian looked up at the male nurse and grinned.
"I feel a lot better. Truly. Can I play rugby on Saturday? Please!" Adrian pleaded with the nurse.
Jonathon sighed. "Well, against my better judgement. Your fever has broken and recovery is uncomplicated. I think you might just be right for Saturday".
"Thanks Mr Player! You are the best".
"Well, we do have one rather pressing matter to take care of. You haven't had a bowel movement for five days. An enema will make you more comfortable".
The grin disappeared. However, he willingly submitted his young bottom to the male nurse. Jonathon's gloved finger gently penetrated the tight muscle of the boy's anus. Satisfied there was no obstruction he pushed the hose through the dilated ring into the rectum and then unclipped the hose. A torrent of warm water flooded Adrian's bowels. Jonathon gently rubbed the lad's tummy to relieve any cramping.
Afterwards, Adrian was tucked up in bed again and feeling much better. He was Head Boy of St Barnabas. His family had a long association with the exclusive boys' boarding school. He looked up at the male nurse. Jonathon Player was not yet 30 and looked much younger than his years.
"Thanks for doing that ", Adrian said. "You were so matter of fact and...caring. Anyone else and I'd have been dead embarrassed".
Jonathon smiled: "Well, I am a trained nurse. It's my responsibility to give all my patients the best possible care".
Adrian looked up at the nurse's kind face. "Senior boys have Ethics classes and we learn about stuff like that". He frowned. "One of your duties is to supervise canings". Every afternoon Jonathon assisted the gardener Rod McKenzie punish errant boys. Adrian continued: "You watch boys being deliberately hurt". I'd have thought on the scale of things, that must be closer to murder than healing".
The nurse was taken aback by the youth's directness. "Well, I don't cane a boy. Mr McKenzie does that. I make sure the lad goes to the toilet beforehand. I check his bottom for skin eruptions. Boils". Jonathon thought for a bit, troubled. "You are probably right about the contradiction". He wheeled a trolley containing a chess board close to the boy. "Now", he said, changing the subject, "Let's finish this game".
At 3.30 that afternoon Jonathon was inside a small room at the back of the gymnasium. The government had recently reinstated corporal punishment back into schools in an effort to stem the tide of lawlessness and juvenile delinquency. It was proving outstandingly successful. Most boys after an encounter with the stick became model pupils, buckling down to school work and taking part in school activities. The headmaster Mr Giles had advised the board of governors that the recidivist rate was less than 1%. They all endorsed corporal punishment.
A small fair haired boy was waiting. Jonathon said calmly: "Unbutton". Slowly the lad dropped his shorts and briefs. He bent over the punishment horse. The gardener selected a light cane and stood beside the submissive boy.
Jonathon said: "Two strokes for talking during assembly".
Mr McKenzie lifted the stick high into the air and cracked it down across the trembling boy-mounds. A thin pink line sprang up. The lad's bottom shook convulsively. The gardener waited and then slashed the stick again across the tender flesh. A second vivid weal appeared and the boy howled with the pain of it.
"Stand up and get dressed," Jonathon commanded. The boy did just that with an eagerness which showed how keen he was to get out of what his classmates called 'the murder house'. He shook the hand which had just caned him, carrying on an old St Barnabas tradition, and hurridly left the room.
The other boy requiring correction that winter's day was one who defied the trend. He regarded a caning as simply another hazard of school life and accepted it with an indifference which was insulting. 16 years old and big as a man, he unbuttoned without being told and bent over the horse. Jonathon pushed the shirt tail clear revealing a muscular bum covered with fading stripes and bruises - mementos of many previous visits to the punishment room.
Rod McKenzie chose a thick, heavy implement. Jonathon said: "Six strokes for bullying".
The cane slashed across the waiting rump. The boy showed his contempt by loudly farting. The grim-faced gardener went to a trough and pulled out a new rattan cane which he'd left soaking in water. The water doubled the weight of the stick greatly increasing its power to hurt. Rod looked over at Jonathon who nodded his approval. The gardener put his full force into delivering the stroke.
"_f_u_c_k_!" the youth jumped up and rubbed his badly scorched bum.
"Two extra strokes for swearing and touching your bottom" Jonathon told the now terrified youth. He bent over and took the rest of his beating, crying out after each fresh stroke like a junior boy. His buttocks were criss-crossed with angry looking puffy ridges by the time Rod had finished with him. When the youth stood up the men noticed with satisfaction the tears streaming unchecked down his face. He pulled the clothing up over his rapidly swelling behind, then shook Rod's hand and dragged himself out of the room.
"I think we finally got through to him" the gardener said, satisfied. "See you tonight?" he asked Jonathon. The two men sometimes had a drink after work. The male nurse replied: "Yes, about 8".
The gardener lived in a small cottage adjaent to the main school building. It was spotless. Rod McKenzie was a ruggedly handsome man of 35. He handed Jonathon a drink. The men sat in the small room and discussed the school. The nurse told Rod about what Adrian had said earlier. "He's right", Jonathon said, still troubled, "Assisting you with beatings IS contrary to nursing ethics".
The gardener looked at hs friend. "You want to care for the boys, right? Help mould them into men we can all be proud of"? The nurse nodded. "Well, you help a sick boy to heal with an antibiotic but, sometimes, he needs to be taught right from wrong and that calls for a different treatment. It's still caring. Letting a boy grow up without boundaries, without respect for other people and their property IS true neglect".
"Of course, you are right, as usual!" The nurse felt comforted by his friend's words. "Now I have a very big favour to ask".
"Ask away". The gardener looked intrigued.
"Well, I never received any corporal punishment when I was growing up. Now, every day I watch you beat boys but I don't know what it feels like to be caned like that ...."
"You mean you want me to give you a hiding?" asked Rod. Shyly, the nurse nodded.
There was an unspoken erotisicm about the request which made the gardener's thick _c_o_c_k_ harden. He took Jonathon through to the bedroom. He watched as the younger man stripped completely revealing a luscious pair of orbs. Rod pulled off his clothes and stood there, his _c_o_c_k_ erect. "I don't have a cane here. We'll just have to make do with this". He showed Jonathon his huge tool. The men tumbled onto the bed. Rod pulled a condom onto his _c_o_c_k_ and mounted the nurse, lustily penetrating that tight but willing fundament until both pairs of balls were drained.
Afterwards, they cuddled. "Still want that caning?" asked the gardener. His friend just looked at him and grinned.
The men were secure in their _s_e_x_uality. All around them were boys full of life but _s_e_x_ually naive. Both Rod and Jonathon regarded as their sacred duty the need to protect that innocence by keeping the youngsters in their care safe......