Thanks guys and girls for the feedback - will continue posting given the overwhelming e-mail. Jamie.
11 Now
I do not understand why these fellows are taking so much time to decide James' and Alexander's fate. I could have judged disrespect in an instant and determined an appropriate punishment with a modicum of delay. These chaps, they are playing games - huddled together while James and Alexander await judgement.
Surveying this salon in which we are gathered, I can now put some names to the faces about me. Behold the influential Bancroft - a prefect of my creation who now sits with a younger man who is vaguely familiar. My age disturbs me - but in all sincerity I find it easier to put names to backsides and faces than just to faces alone. I don't believe I had the honour of chastising Bancroft's partner but, then again, time weighs heavily upon my memory.
Yonder is Bentley, sitting beside the wayward Clemens who, from all accounts, is debauched beyond what any sense of manners might accept. The two of them are said to be vile. They are 'judges' here tonight and they are clearly enjoying the increasing trepidation that is besetting James and Alexander as they anxiously await their fate.
The nearest of the 'judges' is known to me but I cannot recall his name. He is rather striking and seems to be arguing some point with his fellows and particularly with Clemens - perhaps in defence of the two miscreants. Twaddle! This endless process is a waste of good time and commonsense. I am of a mind to intervene and bring matters to a speedy conclusion but, unfortunately, that is not within my power. I shall have to wait while this game proceeds.
12 Bentley's narrative
Joshua is arguing that the penalty being proposed for his erstwhile partners is disproportionate to their offences and he is possibly quite right. Clemens is being insistent. I have had my say and shall let the other fellows decide the outcome. Oh that the hands upon the clock might be reversed and I might relive some of those precious moments when I sat in judgement of them all. Joshua must be one of the most delectable of our company tonight. Years ago ....
My, how I had enjoyed the evening. Master Joshua Golding had played into my hands during his beating, as I had intended, by reluctantly agreeing to being my bum boy rather than take his full punishment and squealed delightfully as I broke through his defences and shagged the living daylights of him. His arse was just perfect, strong not flabby, pronounced and the colour of alabaster, at least until his chastisement began. While I would not say that he flaunted his obvious charms, his was an arse that was simply irresistible and any fair minded person would understand my giving him a reasonable option as to whether his beating was completed or whether he would satisfy my carnal desires.
Mind you, once I saw the disrobed Alexander and James I had a measure of disappointment that I had already satiated my desires. The dark haired Master Alexander Newton did not have the prominent cheeks of Joshua Golding or James, the Headmaster's son but the twin orbs he presented for the cane were attractive and inviting. James, on the other hand, with his beautiful skin, blond straight hair was just made for shagging. His buttocks were far more pronounced than those of his partner in crime and had not discretion been dictated (his being the Head's younger son) I suspect I would have found the requisite strength in my somewhat exhausted organ to roger him on the spot. Alas, it was not a wise move to commit such an act where the recipient had a direct and personal relationship with the Head. I suspect if he told his father I might well have found myself birched severely and then ordered to leave School in disgrace. Thanks goodness for my self control.
Master Newton had climaxed during his caning and the evidence was upon the front of my desk. I was tempted to clean it off but decided to leave it there as a souvenir. Each time I saw the feint sign during the next few days I always gave a slight chuckle. One of the fags obviously noticed it and wiped the telltale signs away after about a week, the little sod!
Once I had gained my composure after the exertions of beating the three boys, I made my way to Clemens' study to seek a glass of port and a cigar, for both of which Clemens had very fine judgement.
Clemens is a most engaging chap whose apparent virtuousness belies a lust for the favour of the boys that exceeds that of any other of we Prefects. He appeared to take little interest in my narrating of the caning I had so recently completed such that one might assume complete disinterest yet the obvious lengthening of the organ between his thighs. I did not mention that I had taken young Master Goldings' arse for that would have destroyed whatever was in his imagination.
We drank port and shared a cigar and Clemens gave a monolog on his view of the perversions happening between the boys while all the while he was evidently becoming more and more aroused. As he spoke I could see his eyes wandering about his study. Suddenly his vision fixed upon something and I look in the same direction to see what had caught his attention. I could see nothing amiss.
We finished our glass of port and I was about to take my leave when Clemens stood and went to the door, opened it, and called for Master Phillips, one of his fags. Within moments Phillips appeared still tying the cotton belt to keep his dressing gown in place. Phillips ushered the boy into the room where he looked at me somewhat perplexed.
Clemens then sat back down and poured he and I another glass of his excellent port. Phillips just stood there, his wavy fair hair framing his cherubic face. In apparent, genuine anger, Clemens proceeded to ask the young boy about the condition of the coal scuttle that sat beside the fire. Clemens declared that the item was a disgrace and that Phillips was being lax in his duties.
It was apparent that Clemens intended to punish the boy so it was no surprise when he ordered to boy to remove his dressing gown and stand in his flannel pyjamas quite close to the fire. This was an old trick by which a chap's backside could become quite tender before the actual punishment began. The minutes passed as Clemens and I drank our port and chatted all the while keeping an eye on the young lad how was clearly starting to feel the warmth from the fire ebbing through his pyjamas onto his flesh. Drops of perspiration formed on Phillips' brow and top lip.
Finally, as Clemens finished his glass, he went to fetch a plimsoll with which to punish the young boy with the warm backside and, when he returned, I bade him goodnight and nodded to Phillips mentally wishing him good luck and departed.
It would be misleading to leave the impression that I did not dally in the corridor and listened to the tremendous 'splat' of the plimsoll on young Phillips' arse. The beating went on for quite a time and I thought that I heard young Phillips sobbing before I finally departed for my rooms.
The following day, rumour had it that Phillips was seen leaving Clemens' study having been shagged by Clemens and, apparently, not for the first time.
The Headmaster had previously clamped down on the degree of intimacy between boys and especially prefects and their subjects and that year had seen several birchings and expulsions. As my tenure as a prefect was inevitably going to end, I though that perhaps I might make use of the past clamp down on such activities by using the apparent intimacy between Master Newton and the Head's younger son to my advantage. To put my plan into action, I consulted with Clemens and another prefect, William Bancroft, the latter being well known for many years as being attracted to the same _s_e_x_ and who was also a flagellator of considerable notoriety.
We met in the Library while the boys were doing their prep. We decided that the lads, Alexander and James and should be watched and, if possible, caught in flagrante delicto and that we three might then be able to properly deal with them without the young James being able to go to the Head and complain about our methods of discipline. Clemens summoned Phillips, his favourite fag, and asked him whether he would prefer to act as a spy for us rather than having to share his more intimate favours with Bancroft and I. Although Clemens would have been loathe to share the pretty lad, particularly with the over enthusiastic Bancroft, the ruse had its desired effect and Phillips became a secret set of eyes and ears so that we might catch the tow objects of our interest.
13 Alexander's second narrative
I can sense that James is as anxious as I that these proceedings are taking so long and I suspect he shares my concern at the obvious protestations being submitted by Joshua, I assume on our behalves. Some evil must be afoot and I think James senses it as well. Maybe it is Bentley that is conniving and arranging our disgrace. When I think back, this seem logical given our previous encounters with this blighter....
After Bentley's beating of James and I, we spent as much time together as possible, consoling each other but the opportunities were few. I saw James in the showers of course and noted that, with each passing day, the stripes across his firm and delectable backside were fading, as were mine but I wanted more. So I went exploring. Whenever possible I would seek James' company and we would spend the spare hours of the weekends walking the boundaries of the School and occasionally would return by way of the Headmaster's home where tea was always available.
The Head was a decent chap, perhaps best described as firm but fair and had an encyclopaedic knowledge about all manner of things. We would tell us about matters of science or geography that we had yet to encounter in our classes and made it all quite enthralling. He clearly doted on James and would always ruffle his hair as we bade farewell and returned across the fields to School.
During our perambulations, James and I would take every opportunity to slip into the bushes when we were sure no one was about and quickly further our intimacy, exploring new ways in which to bring each other pleasure. But these times were fleeting and the ever present fear of discovery took the edge of our assignations.
As the Term was coming to an end, Joshua Golding came jogging up to James and I as we began our afternoon walk and asked whether he might join us for he had nothing of special interest to do. James and I readily accepted Joshua into our company of off we sauntered. For a time Joshua seemed quite reserved and it was the irrepressible James who finally broke the ice by asking Joshua whether he remembered our brief conversation outside Bentley's study.
Joshua blushed and asked for our forgiveness for being so impolite for which none was required, we assured him. We discussed his dilemma and suggested certain boys in Joshua's year whom we both thought might have the same disposition but Joshua was unconvinced and reticent to explore the possibilities we suggested.
I suggested to Joshua that he take more time when bathing, especially after sports and to look about to see who was admiring his most beautiful body. Again he blushed but I pressed the case telling him that if he thought someone was admiring him then he should give them a smile of encouragement. James joked that Joshua would spend his whole time smiling because no one could help but admire him.
As Joshua blushed, I felt a pang of jealousy.
We came upon one of the spots where James and I sometimes our most intimate moments. James looked at me, I looked about to make sure no one was watching and then grabbed a somewhat confused Joshua and dragged him through the bushes into a nice secluded spot. I cannot explain what came over James and I but together we fondled, kissed and licked the delectable Joshua and without any of us disrobing in the least part we all succumbed to orgasms within but a few minutes. We lay there, exhausted and more than a little overwhelmed by the experience and, as we gather our equilibrium, heard the feint tread of feet along the path from which we had come. We kept still and quiet and once the footsteps had disappeared, made our way back to the path by a somewhat circuitous route and strode back to School in order to change our sodden underwear and wash it lest the maids notice the evidence of our explosions of sheer ecstasy.
14 Phillips' first narrative
I know I saw them. Alexander with his tall darl features, James with his blond hair and, I swear Joshua Golding as well walking off down towards the river. I followed to see where they were going but somehow they simply disappeared. I came along the path, expecting to see them some distance in front of me but they were not there. God, I hope Clemens doesn't beat me for losing sight of them. I'll just tell him that they went for a walk and nothing happened. My bum is so sore from the rogering he gave me last night, a beating is the last thing I need.
15 Joshua's second narrative
I took the bit between my teeth and approached James and Alexander as they were heading off for a walk and asked whether I might join them. To my relief they readily agreed and off we went. I didn't quite know what to say and, thankfully, James' spontaneity solves the problem when he asked about our last, brief, conversation.
He and Alexander gave me much encouragement to explore whether others in my year felt as I did and were more than complimentary about my attractions to members of my _s_e_x_.
Alexander and James literally pushed me into an area behind the tall bushes that lined the path to the river, where I thought we were headed. Before I knew what was happening. One of them had his hands on my privates, gently massaging them while the other kissed me fully on the lips and the other nibbled on my ear. I reached out my hands and found a prominent bulge, I think in Alexander's trousers and tried to give some pleasure for the delirious joy I was experiencing. My other hand rubbed a sleek chest through a shirt and the sheer hedonistic pleasure and relief that I felt exploded in my underwear with an intensity that I could not have believed possible. The organ that I was stroking also clearly exploded at the same instant and the other, James I think, sighed out his pleasure as clearly the event brought his to a climax.
Panting, we lay back and, suddenly, James covered my mouth and made a sign to keep quiet. I obeyed and within seconds could hear the sound of footsteps on the path from which I had flown.
We lay, quietly, restoring our composure and then returned from whence we had come to wash and remove the evidence of our tryst. I felt as I was walking on air as we went back to School.
Having changed my soiled underwear, and knowing that my heart was full of gratitude for my younger friends, I resolved to write to my father and sat at my desk and wrote:
"Dear Sir,
The holidays approach and I have made friends with Master Alexander Newton and James, the younger son of the our illustrious Headmaster. As you know, I find the holidays at home to be quite lonesome for you have to attend to often to business. Would it be too great an imposition to ask that you might write to our revered Headmaster and to Sir Nicholas Newton and invite their sons, as my friend, to spend the holidays at the Hall. I should be most grateful for the company and should assist me in keeping to the high standards of behaviour you demand of me and to minimise the need for you to correct my misbehaviour.
Your obedient son,
Joshua Golding Esq."
I waited with baited breath for a reply.
16 James' second narrative
Father summoned me to his house on the last Saturday before Term ended. The message came from one of the servants and I was terrified that the growing relationship between Alexander and I had reached his attention. I spoke to Alexander who went deathly pale, imagining the birching that we should receive and the disarray to our lives by his expulsion from School. I was certain that I would be sent to the Royal Military Academy at the very least and, possibly to the Royal Naval Academy.
As I made my way to Father's house, I rehearsed all the pleas that I would offer: that I was just acting the part with Alexander; that I was too young to go to the Military or the Navy; that I would reform my ways - the list was endless.
To my surprise, Father's countenance was far from angry and he expressed pleasure that I had made some friends, one of which, by his father's own hand, had invited me to spend the holidays in Sus_s_e_x_. For a moment I was dumbfounded and then, slowly, I realised what Father was talking about: Joshua's father had invited me to stay at his house for the holidays. I was overjoyed.
It was only as I almost ran back to School that I realised that Alexander had not been mentioned by Papa and I started to have misgivings. Upon my return to School, Alexander and Joshua greeted me with the news that Alexander was to join our party for the holidays, courtesy of his father's written permission. We three were delirious with happiness and couldn't wait for the next few days to pass.
Unfortunately, high excitement gave way to foolishness as I 'whooped' at the good news and swung my arms about me in pure joy. I was like a whirligig, happy beyond compare and swung around and around until my face met the chest of Bancroft and brought me to an abrupt halt and sent him flying backwards. The air was stilled. One could hear a leaf drop from a hundred paces. Fear wiped away my excitement of moments before and everyone stood still, aghast at what had happened.
Bancroft, Captain of the Rowing Eight, one of the most senior men in School, picked himself up and slowly dusted off his clothes, all the while looking directly at me. I swear one could hear the flap of a butterfly's wing in the silence. Bancroft eyed me up and down, called me 'impudent' and invited me to meet him at his study at the beginning of prep on Monday. He muttered something about being too busy during the weekend to deal with such stupidity. He swept away from where we stood, transfixed.
Alexander and Joshua came to me and apologised for not having seen Bancroft approaching in time to warn me. Feeling a little queasy after the encounter, I assured them that this was my sole responsibility. They in return spent most of the weekend working out how we would spend the holidays in what, we were told by Joshua, were the modest surroundings of Greenham Hall, Joshua's father's estate. I tried to join in their enthusiasm and even became quite lustful when I thought about the infinite possibilities that might present themselves but my enthusiasm was quickly dissipated by the thought of my appointment on Monday evening.
My mood was not particularly improved when, during Sunday luncheon, Joshua happened to mention that, when his father was at home, we would have to be on our best behaviour. Joshua explained that his father was an extremely sober and stern man who used a tawse upon Joshua's bared backside should he misbehave. I went quite pale at the simple mention of discipline and Joshua quickly apologised for his insensitivity to my predicament.
Sunday afternoon and Monday ebbed away with the pace of a snail crawling up a drainpipe and by the time I reached Bancroft's study at the appointed hour my knees were shaking, my palms were sweating and, had I not made a brief stop in the bathroom, I am sure I would had wet trousers to boot. For a moment I stood before the oak door to calm myself and then knocked twice.
Bancroft opened the door after a moment or two. I entered and listened as the door shut behind me.
I had seen Bancroft before and had admired him from a distance but in the flesh and not flustered as he had been at our previous encounter, he was rather handsome with his wavy brown hair and deep hazel eyes. He was very tall.
Everyone knew of Bancroft's reputation as a disciplinarian and, it was said that he quite frequently took boys into his bed for long and sustained bouts of the most improper forms of intimacy. His nickname, never used in his presence, was "Buggery Bancroft" or "BB" for short. Those who were subjected to this form of attention were generally supposed to be those who owed monies to the shopkeepers in town or to other boys. Coming from a well-to-do family of some distinction, and having the benefit of a large allowance, it was said that Bancroft would cover the boys debts in return for his covering their bodies.
I was thinking on this and taking solace from the fact that I owed no one any money and therefore should not have to accommodate "BB's" predilections as I removed my shoes, trousers and underwear in accordance with Bancroft's directions.
To my surprise, Bancroft took a seat upon and armchair and watched as I disrobed. His legs were spread wide and I was ordered to stand close to him, between them. He then asked me about the rumours that were going about concerning my association with another boy and, as he questioned me, he started to run his large hands over my buttocks and my most private parts. Such attention from Alexander or Joshua would have been most welcomed but from the man who is about to beat the daylights out of one, such attention is distressing to say the least. The fact that my body was responding to the manipulation made the situation infinitely worse.
Of course I denied the suggestions that Bancroft put to me as he massaged me so intimately if only because the tenor of his comments could only be interpreted as asserting that I was engaging in sodomy with the 'other boy'. I correctly and vehemently repudiated the inference, although such activities were increasingly present in my thoughts when Alexander, Joshua and I had our fleeting moments of pleasure.
Bancroft could have no proof of such a matter. He knew it and I most certainly did. Thus he relaxed his grip on my aroused organ and directed me to lie over the back of the chair which he vacated.
Whilst Alexander would boast that he had become quite enured to the ritual of a caning, I would never do so. It was not as much the knowledge of the pain to come that made my steps timid and wobbly, but the sheer horror of having to put myself into the required position. Had some executioner forced me into such a position, I would have been far less fearful but having to propel myself from where I stood to the back of the chair and then having to drape myself over it was an almost intolerable imposition. Move, of course, I did and having assumed the required position with my quickly subsiding erection placed in the least comfortable position (up against my stomach), all that was required were a few light taps of Bancroft's cane to my thighs to spread to the required degree and all was in readiness for what was to be a memorable experience.
Caning is quite simply an art form and Bancroft was one of its finest exponents and the model on which, I hope, since then I have based my own administration of discipline. Rather than laying the strokes at random across my exposed backside, Bancroft defined the area that he wished to attach with his first two strokes - one to the middle of my cheeks which caused me the expected level of sharp pain and the second low down near where my backside and thighs met which caused me to yelp at the fierce flash of fire that arose across that most sensitive of areas.
Bancroft had not indicated how severe my chastisement was to be but he proceeded to lay on two additional stripes between the first two and then hesitated. For a moment I thought my ordeal was at an end but quickly felt the cane resting across my left buttock. Before I could register what he intended, Bancroft withdrew the cane and returned it with extraordinary venom so that the instrument cut only across me left cheek and the tip swung in towards my most intimate parts. Bancroft's action caused the inner flesh of me left cheek to be assaulted which never happened when both cheeks were targeted. The pain was indescribable but a measure of its effect could perhaps be gauged by the cry of pain I emitted and my almost total lack of composure as the pain reached its crescendo.
Apparently satisfied by the result of this vicious assault, Bancroft walked behind me to my right hand side quickly delivered an identical stroke to my right cheek. Such was the pain that I stamped my foot in rage and anguish and simply could not restrain myself in the requisite position any further. My right hand flew to protect my nether cheek compelled by my need to stop the assault.
Bancroft ceased his attack momentarily whilst I sobbed and tried to restore my composure but that was an impossible task. Ordered to remove my hand and to place it back from whence it had come, I struggled to comply.
I sensed that Bancroft was moving away from me but it was only when I heard a short shuffling of feet did I realise that he was launching the cane with increased vigour at my damaged rear. The blow forced me forward, such was its impact and I suspect that my resultant scream could have been for miles had we not been within the confines of the dark stone building.
My mind registered the seventh stroke and helplessly I waited for the next, for it was rare indeed that any chap would receive and odd number of strokes in a situation where the minimum of three had already been passed.
Whether out of pity or concern at the extent of the damage already wrought, Bancroft directed me to get dressed and slowly, painfully, I did so. I shook his proffered hand and slowly exited from his torture chamber, my face streaked with tears and my chest heaving.
Alexander was confined to prep as my beating was completed but, somehow, Joshua managed to get permission to leave his prep room and intercepted my slow and painful path away from Bancroft's study.
17 Bancroft's first narrative
The Headmaster's younger son was delicious. His backside was pale and inviting. By the time he left my study I had become my own worst enemy for I had aroused myself considerably by having him disrobe and then fondling him. I was impressed by the size of the organ he sported but was constrained by his position as the Head's son such that, without a confession or proof of his _s_e_x_ual activities, I could not take matters to their appropriate conclusion.
The beating had been deliberately severe and the lad had cried most fearfully which I always find to be exciting but I had to stop for fear of causing the lad quite severe damage. Blood on the buttocks of the Head's son might be a cause for some consternation so, despite my own desires, I had to restrain myself.
I ordered the wretch to dress and depart. I tried my best to compose myself but when one is so erotically and delicately poised, composure is difficult in the extreme. I opened the door and summoned a fag and cared not that it was Clemens' current favourite Phillips who first answered my call. The other fags scurried up behind him but I simply grabbed Phillips by the collar and literally swung him through the entrance and slammed the door shut.
Aroused and impatient, I ordered the pretty lad to lower his trousers and underpants promptly and informed him that his response to my summons was inadequate. Being the first to reach my door, Phillips might have supposed that he was the least tardy of the lot but that was of no consequence to me.
In a flash I had him bend over and applied four quick strokes of the cane to his posterior and then took him with a speed and vigour that shocked both he and I. The matter lasted perhaps a few minutes for I expelled my seed just as I drove my organ into the warm home that it required. Phillips, used to such activity, but not to my ferocity nor my brevity looked at me with a mixture of pain and scorn as I slumped down on my couch, spent and exhausted. The boy seemed to take an eternity to dress as if he were trying to make me feel ashamed of my coarse, brutish behaviour and had I not been so emotionally spent I would have thrashed the boy to within an inch of his impertinent life.
Finally he left.