Twice a year our school cadet corps trooped off for camp at one of the larger Army bases in the foothills of the Mountains. For ten days we were to be drilled and trained in the manly art of war. We would get to see real tanks, fire mortars, and ride in helicopters - just the sort of thing to keep a young man entertained.
We set out from the school dressed in our uniforms and our trucks meandered through the city and into the countryside. The Army base to which we went was a large affair with more than enough barracks to house the Corps and was largely deserted because the regular occupants were on exercise - hence the ability of the school to use the facilities. Some Army NCOs were on hand, together with administrative staff to assist in the training part of the exercise. (Fortunately the school trustees has the foresight to realise that playing with live ammunition had the potential for disaster and therefore ensured that the Regular Army was on hand to look after safety.)
Upon our arrival, the predictable shambles ensued as cadets unloaded their kit and tried to find the barracks to which they had been assigned. My friends in my platoon (Ivor, Rex and David) agreed to share adjacent bunk and were fairly astute in selecting the prime positions in the barracks to provide the optimum amount of comfort.
After stowing our kit, we were summoned to a brief parade at which we were given printed maps of the facilities and the daily program. We were then dismissed and allowed time to settle in. Ivor was selected by our Cadet Captain as his batman and had the dubious privilege of looking after Charles Wilson's gear.
Rex, David and I, along with many of our fellow students, set about exploring the camp and spent several hours enjoying the freedom which had been afforded us. Ivor joined us at some point and our happy band sauntered through the extensive facilities without a care in the world.
As dusk descended we attended the formal parade at which, to the strain of the Last Post, the National Flag was lowered. We then rushed to shower and dress for dinner in the mess hall.
Ample food was provided at dinner and we all were in high spirits - the noise was deafening. But all good things must come to an end and as the last traces of desert disappeared down our gullets a great commotion broke out from the head table indicating that someone important wanted our undivided attention.
The Master in charge of the Corps - a Major in the Army Reserve - duly gave us a stern lecture about being on our best behavior, respecting the hospitality which the Army was extending to us, and forecasting exciting and wondrous times ahead. As if to illustrate the joys that were to be offered to us, we then proceeded to watch a rather dull and boring film on the importance of having a well trained and disciplined Army.
Appropriately educated, we then returned to our barracks to prepare for sleep. Ivor first had to attend to Captain Wilson's needs and was the last of our platoon to reach our hut. Fortunately Ivor was kind enough to alert our somewhat rowdy group that Charles was about to do a round of inspections and, by the time Charles arrived, we were the model of well disciplined cadets.
Charles' arrival was signaled by our cadet corporal calling us to attention and in he strode carrying a swagger stick under his arm and a cane in his hand. Without the cane, his obvious display of self-importance might have given rise to laughter, but the cane has a powerful and sobering effect on one's sense of humor.
Charles proceeded to the far end of the barracks and placed the cane on a table underneath the notice board and then returned to the entrance.
"Lights out" he declared and simply turned around and left.
Into bed we went as the corporal moved to turn out the lights. Three dozen boys lay quietly in the dark listening to the strange sounds in this unfamiliar environment and then the whispering began as different groups covertly conversed not at all bothered by the calls from out corporal for quiet.
As the noise subsided one could perceive in the darkness Ivor and one or two other boys slipping out of their bunks and kneeling beside the bunk of a friend to fondle and assist in the almost universal exercise of relieving the _s_e_x_ual frustrations of the moment. This was accepted without comment although one or two prudes in our company thought the activity distasteful.
Morning - the blare of a bugle and the yells of our corporal brought our dreams to an end and the reality of army life hit us squarely between the eyes. A rush to shower, to dress, to ensure uniforms were in order and then onto the parade ground. In serried ranks we stood as the national Anthem wheezed out of an overworked gramophone and the flag was raised to the masthead.
Inspection -demerits awarded, instructions yelled, exercises performed, platoons dismissed and a wild scramble for breakfast. And so the day began.
For our platoon the first "exciting day" involved rope climbing, marching, a run along a bush track, more yelling, more demerits awarded and, finally, lunch.
As we always did, Ivor, Rex, David and I sat together and compared notes. The consensus was that this army life was less than joyful and that there had to be more fun available than this. None being obvious, we decided to give rankings to the other boys as we went through the day with a "5' being awarded to any boys which warranted lustful thoughts and the grading going down to "1" which denoted someone with whom even a dog would decline to have any intimacy. From that moment on, our group could be heard to mutter "2" or "4" or whatever as another boy was graded - our private joke giving us an endless source of merriment.
For my part I saw very few "5's amongst our own company but some of the more senior cadets were granted such a high ranking. Indeed, Rex and Ivor were probably the only "5"s in our year with David being a "4" - losing one mark because of his less well developed posterior - one of my great fascinations at the time.
Rex, despite his great beauty, was far more generous that any of us - a generosity stemming from his perpetual state of lust. (Given half a chance, Rex would have had _s_e_x_ with just about any boy.)
We indulged ourselves in our newly created game after lunch as we went swimming in the local river - surely the reason that swimming was invented. As we lay on the riverbank in our Speedos, David produced a packet of cigarettes and casually invited us to join him in the bushes for a smoke. Rex and I were too preoccupied at the time with our grading of our fellow swimmers to partake of the illicit offer. David and Ivor slipped away while Rex and I compared notes.
Unbeknown to any of us, our corporal (Grant Watkins)was keeping an eye out for any opportunity to establish his authority in this unfamiliar environment and had spotted David and Rex's departure. After, when our friends returned to join us we found out what had ensued.
Watkins had crept up on the two youths and caught then quietly enjoying their cigarettes but had also found David with his hand casually stroking Rex's erection. While not a prude, Watkins knew an opportunity when he saw it and duly declared to the startled boys that he would report them to their Captain both for smoking -an automatic caning - and for illicit _s_e_x_. There was an alternative he explained. The boys could take an on-the-spot punishment and the matter could be forgotten.
David later recalled that both he and Rex and quickly accepted the option presented. Watkins then proceeded to order the two boys to remove their Speedos which they did promptly. Watkins then proceeded to strip a branch from one of the willow trees which littered the banks of the river and had administered 4 slashes to the upturned posteriors of the two miscreants. Neither boy would admit to having cried during their punishment but their red eyes betrayed them.
Observation revealed that the stripes of the willow had caught both boys at the point where their thighs and buttocks met and had whipped around the thighs to leave the telltale evidence for all to see. Swimming alleviated the burning which our two friends were experiencing and we four gathered in the water to get a first hand report of what had occurred. Ivor and I also took the opportunity to run our hands over the well striped backsides to gauge the efficacy of the willow branch. The prominent weals suggested that a caning might in fact be a preferred option.
When our recreation time expired, we returned to our barracks and changed into our gear and proceeded to the rifle range for target practice. The remainder of the afternoon was spent terrorising the paper targets but it was obvious that the surrounding vegetation was in greater danger than the targets themselves.
For Rex and David, lying on their stomachs to fire their rifles was a godsend and their natural exuberance quickly returned.
At the final parade of the day an accounting of demerits was undertaken. One of our company (Mark Atkinson) had somehow secured 14 demerits and looked positively pale as Captain Wilson promised him "a sound reckoning" later in the evening.
Others within our platoon who had accrued more than 8 demerits were assigned to KP while the rest of us breathed a sigh of relief.
Around the parade ground a similar accounting was underway and, as the parade was dismissed, Rex mentioned to me that he thought that one of the more attractive boys in another platoon - Adam Stannard - had earned himself a flogging. Rex suggested that we might conspire to view the event.
Adam was a good looking boy, dark haired, thin chest but a wonderfully rounded backside and I had to admit that witnessing him punishment caused a stirring in my loins. And so it transpired that Rex and I stole away from the mess hall as Adam left to meet his fate and followed him discretely to his hut where his Cadet Captain was waiting. Hurriedly Rex and I sought a vantage on top of the fuel tank beside the hut and watched as Adam entered.
Adam's Captain was a rather nice boy by the name of Phillip Makin and it was with some apparent reluctance that he informed Adam that he had no choice but to beat him. Pointing to the end of one of the bunk beds with his cane, Makin instructed Adam to lower his trousers and to bend over the end of the bunk.
Rex and I had to stand on tiptoes to get a somewhat oblique view of Adam as he complied. Rex's hand strayed to my groin as we watched the luscious backside being exposed.
Makin's heart was clearly not in this duty and the six strokes of the cane caused Adam only brief discomfort although I must admit that his hands did appear to grip the blanket on the bunk rather fiercely as each measured stroke arrived. The punishment delivered, Adam stood up to retrieve his trousers and his obvious erection, coupled with Rex's ministrations moved to a blissful ejaculation.
As Makin left the hut, I proceeded to clean up the evidence of my excitement while Adam lay down on the bunk and proceeded to relieve his _s_e_x_ual tension with the aid of a vigorous right hand. Silently I offered Rex similar relief but he had other ideas and we quietly left our vantage point and returned to our barracks.
As we passed by the various huts we could hear the sounds of justice being meted out to other ill-disciplined youths but took no particular interest especially since the track was filling up with the other cadets who were by then returning to barracks from the mess hall. While no one could fail to notice what was going on, comments were guarded since it was generally considered inappropriate to be too pointed in commenting on the misfortune of others. (Private commentary was fine but public discussion was clearly not on.)
We entered our barracks just ahead of the rest of our platoon and commenced preparations for bed. As the others arrived the predictable noise and commotion followed. Having had a jump start on the others, Rex and I retired to our bunks and while I read, Rex casually cruised the tableau of out comrades in various states of undress. While I studiously tried to ignore what was going on, my instincts finally got the better of me and I glanced at Rex and then followed his line of sight to try to ascertain who was the principal object of his lust today. A quick glance across the room led me to conclude that Rex was planning an assignation with the rather pretty Mark Atkinson who was at the time just putting on his pyjamas.
I leaned across to Rex's bed and quietly said: "Rex, you can't. He's about to be beaten. He's not going to wanting your _c_o_c_k_ up his arse tonight!"
Rex smiled: "You're quite wrong, you know. He gets really hot for it after a beating", he replied. "Last time he got a whacking, he and David jerked each other off in next to no time."
Before I could respond with the inevitable request for details, the corporal called us to attention as Charles entered the room.
Charles was in uniform. He looked us all over as we rushed to assume our positions at the end of our beds and didn't move until all were assembled.
"Corporal", he called, "I understand one of your men is in need of a reminder about discipline".
Our corporal dutifully summoned Mark who looked somewhat pale and anxious.
"I intend that each of the platoon under my command set and example to the rest of the Corps" Charles declared. "I propose to make and example of this creature. But be assured, if any of you gets out of line again, this demonstration will seem like a picnic".
Charles walked down the length of the barracks and seized the cane which had rested on the table without any activity since the previous day.
"Atkinson", Charles declared, "Twelve demerits gets you a beating. Fourteen gets you a proper thrashing. Be so kind as to assume the proper position please".
Mark moved to comply as Charles shoved the boys at the nearest bunks out of the way in order to have ample room to swing the cane without any collateral damage being caused.
Mark gripped the table and lowered his head so that his forehead just touched the surface. His ample backside provided everyone with a delicious sight although I am sure we all felt sorrow for the victim.
Charles took a couple of paces back and then lunged at the boy bring in cane in a wide arc crashing into the target. The "Crack" of the cane meeting flesh seemed to resonate through the room.
Slowly our Captain methodically delivered a total of six biting strokes to Mark's backside eliciting only the faintest of cries from his victim.
"That" said Charles "is a beating. Now we shall attend to the extra demerits."
Without warning, Charles walked to Mark and fumbled with the boy's pyjama cord and swiftly sent them sliding to the floor.
The evidence of Charles' marksmanship was suddenly presented for all of us - six livid red and purple parallel lines rose from the milk white backside. Although we had all experienced something of the sort before, seeing the evidence so quickly and so openly on display caused even the most hardened of us to give a slight gasp.
Mark stoically remained in position but his face went a deep shade of red as he blushed at this unexpected humiliation.
As Charles returned to his position, Mark's leg appeared to wobble a bit and, for the briefest moment, I thought he was going to fall. Instead, Mark adjusted his position slightly but remained in position.
With an apparently evil look in his eyes, Charles swung the cane with all his might and whipped it onto the target. Immediately we could all see that the angle of attach has changed for the new line crossed all six extant ones. Mark's blond head shot upwards as a high pitched cry escaped his lips.
Charles stood patiently as he waited for his victim to settle and then delivered an equally ferocious cut across the boy's backside almost, but not quite, parallel the preceding one.
As Mark gave voice to his pain blood suddenly appeared at half a dozen points where the lines intersected.
Satisfied with this evidence of his handiwork, Charles threw the cane to the platoon's corporal and yelled "Lights out in five minutes. Indyg, come with me." and promptly left followed by our friend Ivor, Charles' batman.
Little thought was given to Ivor as we quietly prepared for bed. Rex, ever the compassionate one, went down the hall to help Mark recover his composure and his pants. I assumed that Rex's whispers into the boy's ear and the resultant nod from Mark indicated that a tryst had been arranged.
Rex returned to his bed with a satisfied smirk on his face and dutifully our corporal turned out the lights.
After quite a while I heard Rex leave his bed and he reached over to me and whispered for me to follow. Out of the hut we stole, followed a few minutes later by the recently chastised Mark.
Rex led our little party through the bushes to the back of the hut in which Charles was residing. Bringing his finger to his mouth, he signaled us to be quiet.
At first there was nothing to hear but as our ears became accustomed to the sounds of the night we could discern grunting and groaning indicating that Ivor was being used by Charles to satisfy his lust. Muffled sounds suggested that Ivor was not being overly co-operative but, with his head pushed firmly into a pillow, Ivor was in no position to articulate his dissatisfaction with the situation.
We moved on with Rex in the lead and silently entered one of the supply huts.
With a kerosene lamp available to shed light on the subject, Rex proceeded to strip and invited Mark and I to follow suit.
Since we were all boarders and shared the same dormitory at school, none of us thought twice about being naked together.
Rex and I each administered tenderness to the well striped backside of Mark who was quickly aroused by our attention. We whispered to each other as we proceeded for reasons of security but our collective lust knew no bound. Equipped for the purpose, Rex produced a jar of Vaseline and proceeded gently make love to our companion. Not to be denied, I grabbed the jar and proceeded to prepare myself.
As Rex rutted away Mark gave groans of excitement and satisfaction asking only that Rex try to avoid contact with his swollen buttocks - a request with which Rex could not readily comply.
Slowly the two increased the tempo and moved towards their climax when the door of the supply hut swung open and the scene was illuminated by the lights being turned on. Our corporal stared at the scene before him - Rex well embedded in Mark's arse and me with an erection which could have broken steel. Frozen in the glare of the lights, none of us moved. Not a word was spoken. Our corporal simply took in the scene, turned out the lights and departed.
Our lust disappeared with more haste than the corporal. Quickly we cleaned ourselves up and hurried as quietly as possible back to our barracks expecting the wrath of all the gods to descend upon us as we arrived. Curiously, the hut was silent. Scared, we slipped into our bunks and fell asleep after much pondering about the consequences which must surely follow. End of part 1