It was 1885. Although St Barnabas was 12,000 miles from Great Britain, the school proudly upheld the traditions of the English public school. The boys even wore straw boaters.
Caleb McKenzie was the 11 year old son of wealthy landowners who farmed the fertile land near the Southern Alps. It was the start of Caleb's first year at St Barnabas. The boy was nervous and not a little homesick. He stood outside the solid door for a moment before giving a timid knock.
"Come!" a deep voice bellowed from behind the door. Caleb swallowed hard and made his way into Mountbank's study. The senior boy was 17 and already as big as a man. He looked down at the tousled haired youngster.
"Who do we have here? It's young Mckenzie isn't it?"
The boy shyly shook his head. Mountbank eyed him up and down before saying "You'll do, I suppose".
Caleb said in his clear treble: "Thank you sir".
"Don't call me 'sir'", the senior boy replied, "I'm Mountbank".
"Sorry si .. Mountbank".
"Very well. Now this is how the system works. You are my fag and will perform various menial tasks for me. If you fail then I shall beat you. Is that understood?"
Young McKenzie looked dejected as he nodded his head.
"Cheer up, sprat! A swishing is good for a boy. Now, your duties are very basic: make my bed, polish my shoes and clean my study. The system works both ways: if you have a problem bring it to me. Just as long as it isn't algebra. I never did get the hang of doing sums with letters instead of figures". Mountback smiled. He was a handsome youth. A tiny smile appeared on Caleb's face as well. "Come and see me immediately after breakfast. Understood?"
"Yes, Mountbank". The boy closed the door behind him and hurried off to a classroom. It was time for prep.
The next morning young Caleb followed Mountbank to the outside ablutions block. The toilets were in individual compartments but had no doors. Caleb's function was to shield the senior youth from the gaze of passersby while he performed man's most undignifed function. At least Mountbank, unlike some senior boys, did not expect Caleb to sit fully clothed on the hard seat first, in order to warm it for him. Mountbank admired the swell of the tightly trousered buttocks of his fag and was well pleased with him.
The days passed and the youngster who was intelligent soon got into the routine. He kept the study neat and tidy. Mountbank's shoes were polished until they shone. In return the senior lad helped Caleb come to grips with his Latin verbs.
All went well until the second month of that first term. The headmaster met with his senior boys.
"I have to tell you that I am very disappointed with the behavior of the junior lads", the headmaster looked grim-faced. Discipline must be maintained. I propose a general beating".
The seniors looked at each other. Some were unable to conceal their delight at the thought of administering a thrashing.
"I will make the announcement at assembly. At 4 o'clock each junior is to receive six strokes from his mentor. Given the degree of laxness the beating will be administered .. uh .. bare". A muted chorus of approval greeted the headmaster's announcement.
Shortly before the appointed time an upset Mountbank paced up and down his study - the room his fag kept so clean and tidy for him. Mountbank could not fault the boy and had grown very fond of him. Yet he was expected to thrash him! It was not fair.
A pale-faced Caleb came into the study and closed the door behind him. Mountback stood up, removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves.
"Right! A dashed unpleasant business but it has to be done". He picked up the three foot long junior cane. Caleb's eyes grew wide.
On that brusque command, Caleb slowly unbuttoned his trousers and took them right off. His underpants followed. He stood in his shirt-tails".
The boy got into the position. The tightly stretched skin covering his boy-flesh would increase the hurt. Mountbank pushed the shirt-tails clear of the small target. The young boy's bum which he admired each morning in the ablutions block was finally revealed. Caleb's bottom was truly magnificent. Two pink mounds of luscious boy-flesh. Mountback's penis hardened at the sight.
The senior boy raised the cane high and slashed it across Caleb's rump.
The youngster shook convulsively and a thick red welt sprang up. Mountbank waited until Caleb was still before inflicting the next cruel stroke.
Poor Caleb's bum-cheeks wobbled like two pink jellies.
Ow! The boy could not remain silent any longer. The pain was unbelievable.
OW!! Caleb danced on one leg and then the other. His backside was in flames. Nothing else had ever hurt so bad.
The boy slumped forward. He stayed like that for at least one minute until, to Mountbank's surprise and admiration, he pushed his sorely used bottom back up again, ready for the last.
Six thick welts criss-crossed Caleb's small buttocks. There were tiny pinpricks of blood where the flog-stick had torn tender flesh. Mountbank lifted the sobbing boy and placed him face down on the bed. He rinsed a flannel with cold water and gently placed it on Caleb's wounds.
Mountbank felt sick at heart. He considered himself to be a civilised male yet his body had betrayed him. When he beat the younger, smaller boy his penis had become so engorged it had endangered his trouser buttons.
Caleb stopped sobbing. Mountbank rubbed the boy's buttocks with the palm of his hand, like a master erasing a blackboard. Between Caleb's sore bum-cheeks was a hairless crease and tiny pink bud. The senior boy caught a glimpse of that puckered boy-hole and averted his eyes. He helped Caleb get dressed. Eyes were wiped by both participants and noses blown.
Later, Mountbank paced up and down his study. His fag was industrious and hard working. He most cetainly did not deserve to be beaten and the senior boy cursed the headmaster for requiring that all the boys be punished for the misdeeds of a few.
At the evening meal Mountbank picked at his food and quickly pushed the plate away. He had no appetite. The junior boys were very quiet. He saw David Butcher's fag limping. 'Poor little devil. He must have copped it from that brute". Butcher was Captain of the rugby First XV. If he hadn't been such a valuable player he'd have been expelled years ago for tormenting younger, defenceless lads.
After the meal was over Mountbank walked over to Butcher's study. The big, burly rugby prop was surprised to see him. They did not get on.
"Butcher", Caleb's mentor said: "Don't ask me why but I deserve to be thrashed. Will you oblige me?"
The other senior's eyes lit up. He picked up his thickest cane. "Very well. Unbutton!"
Mountbank removed his trousers and underpants,
He assumed the position. Rough hands pushed the shirt-tails clear. One lingered, feeling the taut, firm flesh. A finger explored inside his crease, prodding his anus. Then Butcher slowly administered six powerful strokes, each one splitting the tightly stretched skin. The hurt was immense. After the last stroke had landed Butcher grunted: "Stay down". Mountbank felt buttons being ripped open. A fleshy nob penetrated his anal ring stretching it painfully. Butcher pushed his huge penis into Mountbank, spitting on it first for lubrication. He pummelled those submissive buttocks without mercy until he grunted and Mountbank felt wetness inside him. Butcher roughly pulled out and wiped his tool clean on Mountbank's shirt-tails.
The beating and rape which Caleb's mentor had endured, was a catharsis, an expiation for a wrong done to a junior boy. When Caleb came to tidy Mountbank's study later that evening, the older boy felt he was able to look the youngster in the eye,