Everett's Exeat

by Caius Martius <Caius_martius@hotmail.com>

Everett was in a fever of anticipation by Saturday morning.

It had been five days since Martius had selected him to be his fag, five days in which Everett had never been so busy. The older boy was a stickler for detail and Everett had more than once fallen foul of him for misdemeanours which, although minor, had been punished severely. A speck of dirt on cricket whites, a collar not starched to quite the right stiffness, tea imperfectly brewed all of these had resulted in sound thrashings from Martius.

Everett found himself having to stay up late into the night just to finish his prep. And even that turned out to be a potential nightmare. Martius insisted on checking every essay, every translation, every equation.

'Any fag of mine is going to excel in everything,' he had announced on that first morning when Everett, tousle-haired and groggy from lack of sleep had returned to Martius' study with his breakfast. So now, each day, while Everett polished his shoes, Martius would thumb slowly through exercise books, ('Not jotters, Everett') occasionally sighing and shaking his head.

'You multiply integers by adding their logarithms together. You know that.'

'Sorry, Martius.'

'Just don't do it again unless you actually want the extra spanking it just earned you.'

Everett hung his head. He adored Martius, but he was very, very strict and seemed to think that the only way to help anyone learn anything fagging duties or arithmetic was to keep a tally of mistakes and mete out a very solid spanking as punishment for them at the end of each day. Everett had returned to his dorm sobbing quietly more than once since the beginning of the week. Last night Bartlett minor had actually whispered to him in the dark,

'It's not that bad Everett. You soon stop feeling homesick.'

So now there was a story circulating that Everett missed his mother a story that would, just last week, have given rise to terrible and cruel teasing from the other chaps. But Everett had noticed something had changed.

Boys got out of his way in corridors instead of barging past him as if he was invisible. Wilson, the Senior Prefect of his house, had even opened the door for him one morning as he was struggling down a corridor, taking Martius' sports' kit to the laundry. Everett had been so surprised that he had almost dropped the lot.

'That's quite all right, Everett,' had been the response to his stuttered thanks.

Everett had at first thought it was something to do with his having survived almost a whole term, but now was more inclined to believe that it was connected to the fact that he spent most of each day, when they weren't in classes, in Martius' study.

'You're safe now,' had been the promise from the older boy and he was turning out to be as good as his word.

Patting Martius' white cotton PJs smooth, Everett zipped the heavy leather weekend bag closed. He had been up since 5.30, ironing, polishing, packing and now he had just 20 minutes to get his own clothes ready and meet Martius at the east entrance. As a result, it was a somewhat red faced and panting young fag who arrived at the foot of the tower steps, straining to carry both bags.

'Hurry the _f_u_c_k_ up,' hissed Martius, who hated being kept waiting more than anything in the world. He was in jeans and his rugby captain's shirt again, just like on that first evening. Everett didn't know how he got away with it, in broad daylight on a Saturday morning when there was a strict ban on all types of casual clothing within the school precincts and there were masters strolling through the grounds. Martius was leaning against the bonnet of a sleek gunmetal coloured car that Everett recognised instantly as a Silver Ghost, his arms folded. Despite the irritation in his voice, he flashed Everett one of his penetrating glances, one that told the fag that Martius was actually amused.

'This,' he said with a dismissive nod of his head, 'is Grover.'

Everett wheeled round to see a tall, blondish man in a perfectly precise chauffeur's outfit. He hadn't noticed him before; he had been so focused on Martius.

'Now hand him the bags and get in.'

Once Martius was in the car, Grover's face, initially totally impassive, became a fixed scowl as Everett handed him the bags.

'Th-thankyou,' blurted the boy.

'That's quite all right, sir.' The last word was spat out, signaling the chauffeur's contempt.

Everett fled to the relative safety of the back seat and proximity to Martius, and the Royce pulled elegantly away, down the tree lined east drive.

Instantly, Martius placed a proprietary hand on Everett's thigh and turned to him.

'This weekend,' he announced, grinning, 'you're going to learn some very important lessons.'

'_s_h_i_t_,' thought Everett, lessons meant only one thing. The possibility of making mistakes, which in turn....

In spite of the fear rising in his gorge, Everett couldn't help but feel his dick respond to Martius' touch. The older boy, much to Everett's disappointment, had never allowed any more of the fantastic _s_e_x_ual contact he had demanded on their first meeting alone. Everett's beatings thrilling as they were had been administered over Martius' trousered knee with Everett either in his shorts or his PJs. True, Martius often demanded to see the results of his handiwork, making Everett stand in a corner, arse naked and pointing out into the room. Martius had even once stroked his cheeks to feel the warmth he had created.

Nevertheless Everett had wondered if that was how it was to be from now on. Increasingly, over the course of the week, every second he spent with Martius had become a torment. He so longed to be on his knees in front of Martius, sucking greedily on his dick, or even biting the pillow as Martius ploughed his thick meat into him. His frustration had been added to by the decree that he was under no circumstances to touch himself, so now he thought of little else but the vision of the older boy standing in front of him, dick out, demanding to be attended to.

The journey seemed to last forever, especially as Martius gently tormented Everett for its whole duration, gently but firmly stroking his right thigh from his knee to tantalisingly close to his now bulging crotch. Everett's dick felt like it was about to explode: he felt like it was harder and thicker than it had ever been before and it was now leaking precum at a fantastic rate. He could feel its swollen head slick with the stuff and wondered idly if it would stain his regulation white cotton briefs. If Martius noticed that there would be hell to pay, but Everett was past caring. Even a sound thrashing would give him the chance to feel the strength of Martius' thighs as he was bent over them.

Once or twice, Everett caught Grover's eyes in the rear view mirror, staring contemptuously. But after a while, Everett simply returned the stare with equal arrogance. The chauffeur's gaze flickered and his eyelids dropped. For one of the first times in his life, Everett felt powerful.

'Lesson One' whispered Martius, his lips grazing Everett's right ear. Everett turned to grin and the next time the older boy's hand got close to his groin he actually had the temerity to wriggle on the leather seat so that finally, finally Martius' hand came into contact with the straining front of his trousers.

'Nice' was the only response and Everett knew he had escaped a flogging. He caught himself wondering if he wasn't just a little disappointed at that fact.

At last the Ghost slowed and pulled through a set of large wrought iron gates into what Everett assumed must be some sort of park. Honey coloured gravel crunched under the car as they swept between large, ancient trees. Everett gasped as they rounded a bend and the trees gave way to well manicured lawns and rose gardens. On a rise, still half a mile away, shone the soft grey stone of a huge, beautifully designed house, almost as large as Everett's family home.

'Gosh Martius, is this where we're staying?'

The older boy turned, 'I should hope so, it is my home.'

'But I thought....' Everett stopped in mid sentence, aware of the faux pas that he had been about to commit.

'You thought that I'm a scholarship boy and that I lived somewhere less salubrious.'

Martius' eyes twinkled again. Everett was relieved that he hadn't hurt his feelings, but was till curious.

'You'll find out, soon enough.' was the only response.

Everett managed to get through the rest of the day with few reprimands. He did go to fetch the bags from the Ghost's trunk 'For God's sake Everett I pay people to do that' and he did blush in front of a servant....

Both boys were accompanied to the master bedroom by a dark young man, who although a member of staff, looked nothing like those in Everett's family home. He was dressed immaculately in a well-cut black suit, black shirt and tie. Everett thought that the room was beautiful, simple and masculine with a large four-poster in its centre. The walls were dark, covered in architectural drawings, the floor polished so finely he could see his reflection in it, the windows protected both by shutters and heavy golden drapes.

'Martius, it's beautiful where will I sleep?'

Martius exchanged an amused glance with the servant.

'Here, of course.'

'But what about you? I couldn't take the master....'

Martius cut in, laughing. 'You'll sleep here with me, in this bed. And if you're a good boy, you won't be doing much sleeping. Now Christopher here will show you round the suite. Meet me in the drawing room and bring your trunks.'

Everett wanted to sink into the floor. In front of a servant Martius may have been starting to show his lack of breeding. But when he finally looked up Christopher was smiling warmly. Everett once again made a move towards the bags, which Christopher had laid on the floor. An arm stopped him.

'There's no need for that, sir. You're a guest here. And very welcome. Young Master Martius speaks very highly of you.'

Master Martius. Everett rolled the phrase around in his mind, like a grain of sand in an oyster.

'Your dressing room is on the left....'

Everett was blissfully happy for the rest of the day. Martius seemed to have forgotten to be stern and treated the younger boy with jocular affection. They swam in the estate's lake, lay in the sun and were served dinner by a team of young men, all dressed identically to Christopher and all of whom looked remarkably like him: tall, dark, handsome, brown eyed. Everett thought they were amazingly _s_e_x_y, but Martius seemed not to notice them, preferring instead to torment Everett by running the toe of his shoe up and down the boy's leg.

Whether it was the rather fine 1988 Pouligny Montrachet that Martius had unearthed in the cavernous wine cellars, the fact that the older boy looked devastating in his dinner jacket, bow-tie skewed just enough to be _s_e_x_y, or his incipient sense of self confidence, Everett couldn't help but feel happy.

Then disaster struck.

Everett was in his dressing room when he heard a yell.

'Where the _f_u_c_k_ are my PJs Everett?'

'I did pack them, Martius, honest I did. They were right on the top, but Christopher unpacked the bags, perhaps you could ask....'

Everett didn't know what had hit him, but he assumed it must have been a rather skillful rugby tackle because the next thing that he knew he was lying face down on the huge bed, spread-eagled with the full weight of Martius on top of him.

He could feel Martius' hot breath against his cheek, different now from when it had brushed his ear earlier in the day. Angry.

'We don't make mistakes like that here. If you'd packed them they'd be in my dressing room. And Lesson Two - don't ever try to blame one of my staff for your errors.'

Another series of lightning moves and the curtain ties from the bed had been used to bind Everett's wrists and ankles, one to each of the four posts of the bed. The ropes were soft, but the knots unyielding and with the ties released the curtains dropped to shroud the pair in darkness. Roughly Martius pushed a large pillow underneath Everett so his arse rose in the air. Everett had never felt so vulnerable in his life his new-found confidence ebbing second by second.

Martius was at his ear again, whispering through clenched teeth:

'Initium Sapientiae Timor' What the _f_u_c_k_ was he on about? That was the school motto. But Everett knew that saying anything at this point would only make things worse.

Martius slid off the bed and through the curtains, leaving Everett shaking in the darkness. He heard muffled voices.


The manservant must have been right outside the door as he answered almost immediately.


'Go down to the stables for me will you Christopher.'

'The stables, sir?'

'Yes. You do know where they are, don't you?'

'Of course sir, but I was just wondering if that isn't just a little....precipitate'

Everett waited for the inevitable explosion at the impertinence, but none came. Instead:

'This one's special Christopher.'

Then silence. For what felt like hours. Everett could hear Martius pacing the room, drinking the remainder of the wine. He started to get annoyed. He had packed the PJ's and this wasn't his fault. He tugged at the ropes. Martius must have seen the movement.

'Don't bother.' The tone was laconic. 'You'd do better to get that _c_o_c_k_ of yours back into the state it was when you were so proud of it in the car.'

Amazingly Everett felt his _c_o_c_k_ stiffen, as if to order. He started to rub it against the linen of the pillowcase, tipping his hips backwards and forwards, starting to feel wet again. He mustn't have heard Christopher come back into the room with whatever he had been sent for because all of a sudden Martius was on the bed behind him.

'Right, that's enough of that, young man.'

He reached under Everett and pulled his _c_o_c_k_ backwards, so that Everett knew that Martius could see it straining between his legs. Like this, his balls were pushed back up behind him between his arse cheeks. He was scared now. If he was to be thrashed and Martius was careless, his balls were exposed to the blows.

The spanking was unlike anything that Martius had ever dealt out before. A quick series of blows, all on the one cheek, then the other, then back again. Everett lost count and started to feel dizzy. From far away he heard his own voice pleading for mercy, but none came. He knew he must be sobbing with the pain, but felt a strange mixture of delirium, exhilaration and excitement at submitting like this to the older boy.

In the spartan environs of the school, a beating seemed quite natural. Here amongst all this opulence it felt deliciously wicked. Eventually Everett succumbed, actually starting to enjoy the pain and raising his arse as high as he could to receive the beating. He could no longer feel the individual blows, just a hot, throbbing pain that started in his buttocks and spread throughout his whole body.

Then it stopped and he could feel Martius' hands caress his full arse, assessing his work.

'Say thankyou.'

'Sorry Sir, of course Sir, thankyou for my beating.'

'It's not over. I think you'll need this.'

Everett felt a soft length of silk being pushed against his lips. Martius' bow tie. He opened his mouth to accept the gag. He couldn't imagine what was coming next until he felt the cool brush of a heavy yet supple length of leather against his cheek. Martius pulled the length of it back until its square leather end was resting against Everett's face.

A riding crop. _f_u_c_k_ 'precipitate,' this was going to be hell. But gagged as he was Everett could only make pathetic grunting noises to try to halt the inevitable.

'This, Everett, is going to hurt. But I'll go easy on you six to start with. You'll feel two sensations. The shaft of the crop will bite into your flesh. Its end will sting. The shaft feels more painful at first, but it's this little square of leather that leaves a lasting impression. I suggest we tuck your dick away, for safety's sake.'

Martius' hand went down between Everett's legs.

'_f_u_c_k_ing hell, you're still hard. You liked that, didn't you? Well if you can stay hard during this you can have a reward.'

Amazingly, Everett did stay hard. He'd never been cropped before, so had no idea if Martius was going easy on him or not. The pain was excruciating, but wonderful it really did feel as if the crop was biting deep into his flesh, leaving deep weals across them. He felt his precum start to flow again, as he began rutting against the pillow. He was determined to take the blows like a man, and managed, this time, not to cry out.

Martius removed his gag. Everett felt the restraints around his ankles being removed and he was flipped over onto his back, so that his hands, still tied, were crossed above his head. As he had suspected, Martius was now naked and hard. Obviously he had been turned on by what he had done to his fag.

He straddled Everett's chest, pinning him to the bed and holding his fat thick _c_o_c_k_ above the boy's face.

'Tongue out, boy,' he instructed. Everett obeyed immediately, eager for what he knew was coming. The large knob of Martius' dick was coated in precum and he took it in his own hand. Martius must have been extremely hot, because after a few short strokes, Everett felt his tongue being coated in his Master's jism. This was the first time he had tasted it, and it was at once salty and sweet, thick and manly. Everett swallowed for all he was worth feeling completely owned by the older boy, not wanting to spill a drop.

'Thankyou for your spunk, Sir,' he gasped.

Martius grunted, but instead of flopping on the mattress as Everett thought he would, he moved to kneel at the side of his fag.

'It's time for Lesson Three boy,' he grunted, taking Everett's _c_o_c_k_ in his hand. At the same time, Everett felt the pressure of a thick finger against his arsehole. He knew now that this was what he wanted, so he pushed down, hard. He saw the look of surprise on Martius' face as his finger was plunged to the hilt into Everett's hot hole. Everett clenched his teeth to let the pain subside, then started riding his Master's finger, hard and deep. His movements meant that his dick was being thrust back and forward in Martius' fist and quickly, very quickly, he came in great white gobs, the spunk flying onto his chest and even over his shoulder.

Then Martius surprised him again. Gently and carefully he untied the boy and then with long lapping strokes licked up every single strand of spunk that he could find.

Martius held Everett close. Everett's arse felt as if it might well be black and blue by the morning.

'That was hard, Marsh,' he breathed in the dark.

'You're _f_u_c_k_ing lucky that I didn't brand my family coat of arms into your arse, boy, after that insolence.'

Everett thought for a moment.

'Martius, Sir, where are your PJ's?'

'In my dressing room. Now shut up and go to sleep. You have to be up early tomorrow morning. I want to see that cute arse of yours in jodhpurs. We're going riding.'

The first thing that Everett thought was of the pain that that would cause him. Then the pleasure.

'Martius,' he whispered, 'you don't have to make up excuses to beat me, you know.'

'Lesson Four learned then,' were the last words that Everett heard before he fell asleep somewhere he felt very safe.

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