Robert taken in hand .
This is a continuation of the schoolboy saga of Robbie Wilson now 13 years of age. Sequentially it follows the three elements of "trilogy", "extra gym", "table manners" and "captains table". It is suggested that the stories should be read in this order.
Robbie pedalled furiously behind Paul, he could keep up with his friends racing cycle but had never managed to overtake the machine- possibly because his own mountain bike was heavier or maybe because he was not such a good athlete as his pal. One redeeming feature of this situation was that he had a wonderful view of Paul's backside straining the material of his black school trousers as his legs pumped the pedals. Instead of carrying on to Robbie's house Paul had turned into his own front driveway and stopped.
"What are we doing here? Have you got fed up with staying with me?"
"No Robbie, but I have to pick up a few things and of course you have a date with a slipper."
"Excuse me ?" Paul had then reminded him of their conversation the previous night, how Robbie had agreed to be slippered in exchange for Paul's silence about some music practise which had been overlooked. (see Captains table). It was barely a day since he had been caned by the headmaster (see table manners), but Robbie felt he had little choice but to agree.
The two boys entered the Edwardian vicarage, his parents had been away for four days and inside the porch was a large pile of mail for Paul to gather up. Robbie followed Paul into the vicar's study, a room with a high ceiling, old fashioned furniture and stained glass French windows . It was the room where sermons were penned, confirmation classes held and brides counselled. Robbie waited in the study whilst Paul was upstairs. Shortly he came back holding a tennis shoe, which he placed on the seat of an upright wooden chair and then moved both into the middle of the room. Striking what he hoped was a suitably authoritarian stance he repeated ( as best he could remember) the words used last night by Robbie's father just before thrashing Robbie's elder brother.
"For the matter of deliberately missing music practise you will be beaten. Have you any thing to say ? No? In that case you know what to do."
Resigned to his fate, Robbie stripped off his jacket, shoes and socks he looked pleadingly at the other boy but to no effect. In slow motion he undid his trousers lowered them to the ground and stepped from them, even more slowly his white cotton briefs followed the same course.
"Over here. Bend over the back of the chair and reach down its front legs. Now put your legs further apart Good. You will have four strokes."
Flexed over the chair back, Robbie was aware of Paul moving about the room , he heard some ominous taps as Paul swished the slipper for practise and then felt his shirt tails being gripped and folded out of the way.
"Wilson- are these cane marks on your backside? You should have told me- now I will have to double your punishment, that means eight strokes."
Robbie rocked and flinched as four almighty blows crashed into his rear, Paul seemed to have a natural flair for this sport. Aided by the hand to eye co-ordination developed by sportsmen, he had centred each blow directly on top of the bruises which were now forming where yesterday's cane marks dealt by the Head had intersected each other. Their combined effect had been evil and Robbie was gasping with pain. Paul took a few moments to admire his handiwork. The two cheeks had become crimson but the deeper plum colour marks left by the cane were still prominent. As Robbie gently shook Paul fancied he could see a heat haze shimmering about the globes. Four slow, calculated explosions were delivered along the length of the slash across the top of Robbie's legs- an evil legacy from the Head. Robbie was close to breaking, his voice faltered when he cursed through gritted teeth "_s_h_i_t_ that _f_u_c_k_ing hurt."
"Wilson I have not finished yet, any more language like that will earn you more licks, Now stand up straight and don't move."
Having stood, Robbie had neither the residual energy nor the will to move, he watched as Paul put down the slipper and came to stand infront of him. The two teenagers locked eyes for moments . Robbie felt his tie and then his shirt undone. Breaking his stare, Paul had walked behind Robbie and peeled the shirt from his victim's back. Robbie was very naked. Paul soaked in every detail, the blond curls kissing the nape of his neck, wide and freckled shoulders, straight spine, tapered waist, smooth meaty buttocks and muscled legs. All these features were covered in a fine blond down of hair. The vicar's son moved to inspect Robbie's frontal aspect. The view was equally rewarding, shinning blond curly hair (which was just too long for school regulations) wide blue eyes now rather red and swollen, finely chiselled features generously peppered with freckles, inviting lips ( definitely not smiling now), a long and slender neck, hairless chest , flat belly and muscular thighs. A six inch penis -erect and intact - jutted brazenly from a sparse light brown shrub of curls , a well filled but still hairless scrotum hung beneath to complete the picture.
"Well Robbie, what are we going to do to get rid of that? Any ideas?"
As the words were formed, Paul's fingers curled about Robbie's member the other hand cupped his balls. Robbie relaxed, and as Paul's fingers managed the tensions in his genitals the fire in his arse dimmed to an erotic glow. Robbie's hand sought his companion's crotch but was halted by the gently breathed words " later Robbie later."
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