____________________________________________
In case you are new to these stories, here is a brief recap.
Roger Livingstone had cheated at university and submitted an essay which was not his. His tutor had given him the choice between official action, which would mean his immediate expulsion from university or getting himself thrashed by a relative or friend and returning to prove that it had been done. He had tried to find his uncle but had discovered that he was away. On the way back home, he accepted the offer of help from an older man, Peter Hill, who gave him his caning but also required that he went back for a second instalment. That occasion had rounded off his earliest encounter with corporal punishment with a heavy strap, a tawse and a final few with a cane.
Later he used the same story again, this time to get a caning from Harold Furness, who had been in the Royal Navy and had both experienced and dished out canings there.
Now read on.
Roger Livingstone's term came to a safe end. There were no more frights beyond the worries about failing exams which beset most undergraduates and, after his encounter with the Royal Navy, no more adventures with a cane either. Most of the vacation was to be spent in Bristol. He had friends there and could work there. He was in clubs there. Most of his life was now there and although his parents were still abroad they had also made their home there.
One weekend he was with friend in London. He went up by car and was returning on Monday morning. He drove towards the M4 and was aware that there could be hitch hikers. If he could find a reasonable one, the conversation would relieve the tedium of the journey. Even though he had met the cane twice from such encounters, this was not at the top of his mind. On both occasions the subject had either come up naturally or it had been brought up by the passenger. These were events you could not control.
At first it seemed academic. No-one was waiting at the start of the motorway. He drove into the services and went straight through. At the far end stood one young man, probably about Roger's age. He pulled up and the figure opened the door.
"As far as you can towards Bath, please."
"Sure. Get in."
His passenger put a heavy bag on the back seat and sat in the front passenger seat. Roger did not commit himself about how far he was going. He had learned that it was better to avoid doing so. If the passenger turned out to be less desirable than had been hoped, he could be dropped at a convenient intersection without offence by Roger's pretending that he was leaving the motorway there. As he set off, he decided to break the ice.
"I'm Roger."
His passenger said, "I'm Russell. Russell Omerod."
"Do you live in Bath?"
"Well, my parents live near there. I hardly know the place now. I was away at school for what seemed like years and now I'm at Oxford."
"Did you enjoy school? I was at a day school and I've often wondered what it was like to be boarding."
"I did, on the whole. It was a relief to get away from home, to be honest. My father's a parson and everything was so boring and predictable. I still don't get on with him. Besides, I was known by everybody in the bloody village and, if I did anything wrong, the whole population queued up to tell him, often before I'd even got home. To be honest, I think it would be difficult to get on with him. He can't cope with anybody disagreeing with him. The discipline was better at school as well."
"In what way?"
"Well, at home, you never knew what would happen. He kept changing his mind. One day something would be wrong and the next, he'd be complaining because you did do it. He'd sometimes go right over the top with the strap as well. At school, you had exact rules and you knew the limits. You knew what would happen if you broke them as well. You'd get your arse whacked but it would be fair."
"They didn't use the cane or anything like that in my school." Russell had moved the conversation to where Roger wanted it. He was trying to keep it there. The chance to develop his position might occur.
Russell said, "I suppose it's all right if you know what will happen. Speaking for myself, I think a whacking teaches you far better than lines or detentions."
Roger asked, "Who used to do it?"
"It wasn't a very big school and it was only the headmaster. Prefects and masters reported you to him if you were due for one. The Reverend Oliver Middlemiss, M. A. was what he was called on the school note paper. We usually called him the beak. I'll give him this. He laid it on quite well but he was fair. Even if a master sent you to him, he'd investigate himself and give you the chance to explain. Sometimes you went expecting a whacking and he'd send you away with a warning. I remember overhearing him when I was in the Sixth Form. He was really tearing a strip of one of the masters for sending a boy to him who was innocent. Actually, that man left at the end of term and he'd only been with us for that term."
Russell was clearly interested in caning. Roger was wondering whether he would be interested in giving it. "Wouldn't you have preferred to have been at a school where the prefects dished it out as well?"
Russell grinned. "I wouldn't have minded. Actually, I think I'd have enjoyed it when I was a prefect and I was one."
Roger took the plunge.
"I wish I'd gone to a school like yours."
"They weren't for ever caning people."
"From what you said, I assumed that. It's that I could have got out of a hole I'm in if I had done."
"How's that?"
"I've been a bloody idiot. I'm at university and I put in an assignment and some of it wasn't my work. My tutor's spotted it. I know it's vacation, but I'm doing some work now because I was ill and missed some of the term time."
Russell said, "What's a school like mine got to do with that. It'll be curtains, won't it?"
"No. At least, I was hoping that it wasn't, but there doesn't seem to be a way out now. My tutor said it could be unofficial."
"What's he want?"
"He said I'd got to go to a relative or friend or my old school and get myself thoroughly caned. If I did, he'd accept that I've been punished."
"Well, get a relation to do it, then."
"That's what I've been trying to do. My parents are abroad and I've been to my uncle. He's away and won't be back in time. I just can't think of anybody else I could ask. If I'd been to a school like yours, I could have gone and asked the Head if he'd do it for me."
Russell said, "The beak would have enjoyed it. I said he was fair, but he really did lay it on when he could and you could tell he enjoyed it. What are you going to do now?"
"I think I've just got to accept that I've blown it. I can't see any other way out."
"There must be something you can do."
"I can't see anything. The only thing he'll accept is that I've been caned. He says he's got to know that I've been punished and it's that or official."
"Why doesn't he do it?"
"He's got a bad heart and he couldn't do it properly. As I said, if I'd gone to a school that used the cane, I could have gone to my old Head and asked him to do it. Now, there's no way out as far as I can see."
Russell said, "I've got it!"
"What?"
"Well, if I take you to see the beak and explain, I could ask him for you."
He had been angling for Russell to suggest that he did it. This was a solution that had not even occurred to Roger.
He said, "We couldn't do that, could we?"
"I don't see why not. It'll be a bit out of your way, but it'll be worth it if he will, won't it."
"But what's he going to think about a perfect stranger coming in and asking for a caning?"
"That's the beauty of it. It won't be a perfect stranger. He knows me and I'll be explaining and asking. Honestly, I'm sure he'll leap at the chance and it'll save your career. It's got to be worth a try."
Roger was persuaded. "OK. You're right. There isn't anything else I can try. Where is it?"
"Just outside Bradford-on-Avon. You won't know it unless you live there."
"I don't. I know roughly where Bradford is but I didn't know there was a boarding school there. Are you sure you don't mind? Can you afford the time?"
"I'm in no rush. I just want to get home by tonight. Nobody's expecting me. It's the best time for me to go home. They're on holiday. Do you live in digs or in hall?"
"Neither. My parents are great when they're around but Dad's a consulting engineer and he goes all round the world with his work. He's in Borneo just now. He travelled a lot before, but after I went to university, he decided that he'd be mainly travelling for several years and taking Mum with him. They bought a house in Bristol. It's quite big but most of it has their stuff in it and it gets left. The last owner had a part as a granny flat, for his mother. Now it's my flat and I just keep an occasional eye on the rest. Actually, it's even more complicated. There were two grannies and there are two flats as well as the house. My parents just use one of them as a separate part of the house when they're around."
At about a quarter past eleven, Roger was slowing down at a school gate. He went in and down the drive. Opposite the front door was a parking space which Roger went to. He locked the car and followed Russell up the steps. Clearly the school had started life as a large house. It had several extensions but the central part was that house and it was into the entrance hall that they walked.
Russell went to a hatch labelled, "Enquiries" and knocked. It was opened and he said, "Hello, Mrs Pickering."
She said, "Don't tell me. I can usually remember a name. I know. It's Omerod, isn't it?"
"That's right. I know I should have made an appointment but is there any chance of seeing Mr Middlemiss, please? It's a bit urgent."
"I'll see, but he won't be able to give you long now. He's got several appointments with parents coming in. Just between ourselves, the fourth form's a bit rough and he's getting parents in to discuss terms for them coning back next year."
She went away and returned quite quickly. "He'll see you now. Just go in. You know the way."
Russell said, "Just follow me. I'll do the talking unless he asks you a question directly."
"You'll have to. I've got no idea of what to say in circumstances like this."
They went in. The Head's study was a large room with a very large desk dominating it. A middle aged clergyman sat behind but stood as they went in. He extended a hand and said, "Omerod, it's good to see you again. To what do we owe this visit?"
Russell said, "I have just called in to see you all before now, sir, but there is a reason this time. May I introduce a friend of mine, Roger Livingstone?"
Mr Middlemiss's hand was extended again and Roger shook it.
"Please sit down, both of you."
They accepted his invitation and the great man sat himself.
"Now, I can't give you too long. Can you explain, briefly? Mrs Pickering said there was something urgent you wanted to discuss."
Russell replied, "Yes, sir. In essence, Roger's been a stupid fool. He's at university and he's submitted some work which wasn't his and it's been spotted. His tutor has been really decent about it and he's given him the chance to do it again and of accepting an unofficial punishment."
Mr Middlemiss said, "You know my views. There's only one punishment apart from being sent down that I think would be suitable."
"That's what his tutor thinks as well, sir, but he's got a bad heart and can't do it himself. He's told him to get a relative or friend to do it. He's tried but there aren't any relatives available in the country."
Mr Middlemiss said, "To be honest, I think it would be quite improper for a friend to do it."
Russell replied, "I think that Roger thought that as well, sir. He was talking with me about it and he said that he wished he'd gone to a school like ours, where they used the cane. He could have gone and asked his headmaster to help. The trouble is that his school didn't use any corporal punishment. Then it occurred to me that you might be prepared to help and so I suggested it. He agreed to come as a last resort."
Mr Middlemiss said, "Has he made me sound that frightening, Livingstone?"
"No, sir. I didn't think it was fair to suggest it to you when I wasn't one of your old boys."
"Nonsense! I'll be delighted to help. The only problem is that I've got parents galore coming in to see me. If you can come back, I can give you all the time we'll need at about seven o'clock."
Surprised that it had gone so easily, Russell said, "Thank you very much, sir. I'll be here."
Mr Middlemiss said, "I imagine that you'll be coming along to give your friend moral support, Omerod?"
"If he wants me to, sir."
"Both of you come along at about half past six, then. We can have a snack and a talk. Then, at about seven we can get it dealt with. The boys will all be in prep by then and so we won't be disturbed."
It was about twelve o'clock as they left his study. They got back into the car and set off again.
Russell asked, "Have you got any plans for eating?"
"Not really. As I said, my parents are away. They might have left something in but I doubt it."
"Well, we can go your way and drop your bags there and then you can either come over to my place or we can eat in the university union. The food's not too bad and there won't be a crush with most people away."
"I'll be happy to do that."
It was about one o'clock when the car was parked and they went in for lunch. By the time it was over they had drifted into accepting that they would spend the afternoon together. It was to have a consequence that Russell could not have calculated. They left the car and were walking towards the city centre. As they went past the University Tower, a man came out. He saw Russell and moved towards him.
"I'd been hoping to see you. I've been ringing your home but there was no answer, presumably because you're here. I know it's early, but there's the possibility of a scholarship coming up and, if you can get it, there'll be no problem about your doing some research, assuming you don't make a mess of things in June. There's every chance that you can pull it off. You can't get in to see tomorrow morning, can you?"
"No problem, sir. What time?"
"You can't make it at nine, can you?"
"Sure. I'll be there."
"Sorry to disturb your vacation but it's too good to miss."
"That's OK. Thank you, sir."
He went away. Russell said, "I think we'd better have a chat, Roger. There's something funny going on."
Roger said, "Fair enough. We can go up the hill to the park, if you like. There's plenty of time, it's a nice day and you can be really private in a place like that."
Some time later, they sat down on a park bench. Roger had been trying to work out how he would approach the subject. Unless Russell's attitude indicated that another approach was needed Roger decided that honesty would be the best approach.
Russell said, "Well? What is it? That wasn't a tutor after your blood, was it? And it doesn't sound as though you're hanging about catching up with missed work either. Was any of what you told me true?"
"In a funny way, quite a lot of it was nearly true. Several months ago now, it was true. I got into trouble just like I said. It wasn't with that tutor. In fact, I changed tutors because I'm concentrating on a different part of my course now. My parents are abroad and they were then and so I went to see my uncle. He was away and I was feeling fairly miserable when I set off. I gave a man a lift and he asked me the trouble. He offered to cane me and I accepted. That's the true part."
"I still don't follow. What were you up to?"
"Even though my school didn't use the cane, I think I've always imagined having it done, especially when I was wanking. Well, after that time, I wasn't looking for somebody but when the subject of caning came up, I got another man to give me one as well. He'd been in the Navy and had met it there. I wasn't expecting to be in the same place when I picked you up, but the subject came up and you know what happened. I can't really explain it. I just feel better after a good caning from time to time. I suppose you'll want me to drop it now?"
"No. It's no skin of my nose if you get a sore arse. I can understand you, I think. It turns me on something rotten and I used to feel better after one that I'd deserved. I'd prefer you to take it now, anyway. It would be embarrassing to have to go and say that you'd chickened out."
Roger said, "I hope you don't mind too much. I feel better now that I've come clean with you."
"I said it's no skin off my nose and I told you earlier that the beak will enjoy giving you what you asked for. He probably wouldn't do it if he knew the truth but we won't spoil his fun. OK, Roger. Forget it. Telling the truth has cleared the air."
Later that day they set out for Bradford-on-Avon again. They arrived at the school at exactly half past six, the time suggested by Mr Middlemiss. The snack he promised turned out to be cucumber sandwiches and tea and cakes. Roger was kept involved in the conversation but it was largely between Russell and his old headmaster. At no stage did Roger's offence come into the discussion until, just before seven, the allotted time, the headmaster said, "We'd better stop Livingstone worrying about his fate. Omerod, you can stay here. Turn the television on if you like, to keep yourself amused. If you prefer, take a book from the bookcase and read."
He stood up. Roger did the same and followed him to the study. The headmaster opened the door and said, "Go in. I'll adjust this."
Roger went ahead of him while a card in a brass frame on the door was turned over, displaying a red side.
"That will inform anyone who may come that I am not to be disturbed." He closed the door and faced Roger.
"What you did was very serious, Livingstone."
"I accept that, sir."
"Are you taking this punishment because it is due or simply to satisfy your tutor?"
Roger thought briefly and said, "Both sir. I said that I accept that it was serious. For me that means that a punishment is due and I think it ought to be a serious punishment. Obviously, it needs to be enough to satisfy him as well."
"Very well. I hope you don't find this too embarrassing. Take your trousers and pants off, please."
Roger obeyed, removing his jacket as well and placing his temporarily discarded garments on a chair. As he did so, the headmaster moved a piece of furniture from near the wall, where it had stood inconspicuously, into the middle of the room.
"Lie over here."
Roger looked at it. It was a sort of wooden bench, higher at one end than the other and shaped to contain and restrain a body lying on it. He placed himself in position. The headmaster took the leather straps which were fixed to it and secured his wrists and ankles. A fifth and larger strap went round his waist. Roger was now unable to move and completely at the mercy of the Reverend Oliver Middlemiss.
The headmaster said, "I only use this for the most serious offences. It enables us to get the whole punishment out of the way in a single go and is, in my view, much less degrading than having a boy held down by masters or prefects. We agreed that you were due for a serious thrashing. I am sure, from what I hear about your tutor, that he would prefer me to use a birch rod rather than a cane. That is what I will do. The fact that I was engaged when you came earlier is fortunate. It gave me time to get some made up, for they are better freshly made."
He lifted Roger's shirt tail into the middle of his back and walked across the room, as it happened, in Roger's line of vision. He could see the headmaster take a rod out of a bucket of water and shake it. He estimated that it was between three and four feet long, a bundle of switches, presumably made from birch. It and the headmaster went from sight. Roger waited. Then it happened.
SPLATT!
The rod crashed into his rear with tremendous force. Roger's first reaction was that he was being cut to pieces. It was anguish. The pain surged from his buttocks and filled his entire body. He had asked for punishment and he was getting it! He lay there, waiting for the next stroke, half hoping that it would arrive soon and half hoping that it would be permanently delayed.
CRRACK!
The second stroke arrived. Once again, the pain surged through Roger's body. Now he was able to get it into perspective. It hurt but it was probably not much worse than the cane operated by his former naval petty officer. The two pains had different characteristics. This one seemed sharper. The other was more of a brutal bruising. Roger's musings ended as the third stroke crashed into his rump and the flooding pain replaced every other thought again. At least, secured like this, Roger did not have to struggle to try to stay in place or to have to decide whether he should consider escaping.
CRRACK!
The fourth stroke reminded him that there was to be no escape until the headmaster decided that he had had enough.
CRRACK!
CRRACK!
The fifth and sixth strokes fell. Roger was both surprised and relieved to see the headmaster walking past him, returning the birch to the bucket. That relief was short lived. He took a second one out and returned saying, "They get damaged and you wouldn't want ineffective strokes."
Roger was in no condition to argue, but he would have been quite satisfied with six strokes. His only consolations were that he had asked for it and that he knew that later he would be pleased that there was more.
CRRACK! The headmaster was back in place and the seventh stroke fell. As with all the previous ones, Roger was waiting for the next. The timing varied and this made it more difficult to be prepared.
CRRACK! The eighth fell almost immediately, before he had recovered some composure after the previous one. For the first time the headmaster had got under Roger's guard. A gasp was forced from his lips.
CRRACK! The ninth was almost as quick and forced another gasp. Then there was a long pause. Roger wondered whether the headmaster was contemplating stopping. He may have been but if he was, his contemplation had resulted in the decision to continue.
CRRACK!
CRRACK!
CRRACK! The tenth, eleventh and twelfth strokes followed with longer pausing, enabling Roger to maintain his self control.
Once again, the headmaster walked past Roger. Was twelve his sentence or was this simply another exchange of weapons? Roger looked anxiously and again there was the double desire. Part of him very naturally wanted to end now while the other part felt that more might be better. He realised that it was strange that he was thinking in terms of his punishment even though it was for something long ago which had been cleared up. However, the decision did not belong to Roger. All he had to do was wait. He had his answer. The weapon was put down and a replacement was taken. Once again, the water was shaken from it and the headmaster returned to his work.
Roger waited and waited. This time it was an even longer pause. Then it arrived.
CRRACK!
Roger allowed his body to recover from the wave of pain and then returned to his silent counting. That was thirteen.
CRRACK! Fourteen.
CRRACK! Fifteen.
The headmaster said, "I think you should decide, Livingstone. If I were involved alone, I think I would be satisfied with that. I wouldn't go above twelve with the oldest boy here, no matter how serious the offence. I've gone a little further because you are older. You have two things to decide. Will that satisfy your tutor and do you think it was enough or should I give you a further three?"
This time, Roger had to decide. He considered briefly and then, almost to his own surprise, he heard himself say, "It might be better to have the extra, sir."
It was almost as though the headmaster had expected that answer. Almost immediately the next stroke fell. There was then a long pause before the seventeenth. Roger now knew that the next would be the last. It seemed an age before it fell. Then it arrived.
CRRACK! A final surge of pain flooded from Roger's seat to every part of his body.
The headmaster stood the birch rod against the bench and started to release Roger. When all the straps had been released, he said, "You can get up now. Do it gently. Boys are sometimes a little shaken after a good thrashing and you've had a good one."
Roger lay there for a few moments, exploring hands going to his rump and very gently feeling the results. He got slowly to his feet and crossed the room to his clothing. He put his underpants on and rubbed his seat again. His trousers were replaced and fastened. Now decently clad, he turned to the headmaster and said, "I'm sorry, sir. I should have said this earlier. Thank you for your help."
"Forget it. It's always a pleasure to be able to help someone. Just let that be a lesson to you and stay out of trouble."
Roger rubbed his trouser seat gently, smiled wryly and said, "Yes, sir."
The headmaster led Roger back to the waiting Russell. He said, "Your friend took it like a man, Omerod."
"I expected him to, sir. He knew that it was right and that helps a lot."
"Well, you'd better get him back home, now."
They were escorted to the front door. Roger said, "Thank you again, sir."
They went to the car. After unlocking it, Roger gently lowered himself onto the driver's seat. As he started the engine, Russell said, "What did you get?"
"Eighteen with the birch."
Russell whistled. "Well, you asked for it!"
"I know. Actually, I really asked for it in there. After he'd given me fifteen, he gave me the choice of stopping or having anther three. I don't know why but I went for that."
Roger followed Russell's directions, eventually reaching Russell's own home.
Russell said, "Look, why don't you come in? It's a bit late for first aid, but I can clean you up after that thrashing. If you like I can extend your education a bit further as well."
They got out. Russell collected some provisions he had bought during the afternoon. They went in.
Russell said, "It's waited so long. It can wait a bit longer. We'll have a coffee first. You probably need one."
A few minutes later, as they drank the coffee Roger said, "What did you mean about extending my education?"
"You weren't at boarding school and you didn't get caned. You probably won't know what we used to get up to after a caning. If I'm going to clean your backside a bit, you can try some of that as well."
Roger said, "Do you mean with the hard I get even when I think of a whacking?"
"That's right. Do you want to give it a go?"
"I'll try anything once. It'll probably be better than a solo effort."
Russell replied, "It is, believe me."
A few minutes later, they were upstairs in Russell's bedroom. Russell said, "I'll get a bowl and some hot water and Dettol and the other stuff to clean you a bit. You can start getting undressed. Don't be shy. Get everything off."
Roger was still undressing when he returned. Russell started to strip as well. Soon they faced each other, Roger completely naked and Russell only wearing his Y-Fronts.
He explained, "I'll keep them on for a bit of support while I wash and powder your backside."
Roger glanced at him and said, "It looks as though you could do with some support!"
Russell looked at Roger and said, "The same thing goes for you. Come on. I'll put the towel on the bed. Lie face down on that."
Roger lay on the bed. Russell took the flannel and gently washed Rogers cuts and bruises. Equally gently, he dried him and powdered his bottom. He smoothed it on and said, "That'll feel better. Leave the towel on the bed. It'll stop the powder getting on."
He moved the cleaning equipment out of the way and said, "Are you still game to try to learn, Roger?"
"Yes." He turned over and said, "And it looks as though it needs something!"
Russell moved alongside him, took his throbbing organ and manipulated it. Its power developed. Roger could feel himself coming close to coming. Then Russell moved forward and took it in his mouth. His lips and tongue continued the work his hand had started. With a great surge of power, Roger felt himself releasing a torrent into his new friend's mouth.
A little later, Russell stood and removed his Y-Fronts. He returned alongside Roger who said, "Do you want me to try to do you like that?"
"It's your first try. Do it all by hand this time."
Roger took his organ and, slightly clumsily, began the operation. He could share the excitement Russell was experiencing and finally there was the expected and desired gush of white fluid.
Russell said, "That was great! It's a good thing I left the towel there! It's a good thing that my father doesn't know what we've done as well."
They dressed.
Downstairs, Roger said, "Shall we meet again?"
Russell replied, "I hope so. It'll make being here better than bearable!"
"And will you extend my education further?"
"It'll be my pleasure."
To be continued.