Of course, it is not uncommon for twelve year old boys to develop crazes which, to the adult mind, are incomprehensible. In that sense, I suppose, there was nothing odd about Justin Simmonds and Sebastian Rushmore. Nevertheless, I can't help thinking that their infatuation with schoolboy stories of the 1950s and 1960s was a little out of the ordinary. And they didn't do things by halves either. Not only was their conversation littered with the most dated of expressions, but they insisted on dressing as though they had been born in 1950 rather than 1990. And they irritated their peers by their firm rule of never calling another boy by his first name. Only surnames, or ludicrously old fashioned nicknames, would do for them.
The boys had done their homework. Most modern children, if asked about the appearance of schoolboys in the early 1960s, would have mentioned long hair, kipper ties, flairs and flowery shirts. But Justin (or "Simmers" as he liked to be called) and Sebastian were well aware that the truth was much less radical. They were proud of their short back and sides haircuts, their narrow and rather bland ties, their grey flannel slim fitting trousers and their plain white shirts. When dressed informally they tended to wear aertex shirts and khaki coloured shorts. Only after the strongest pressure would they be prepared to wear modern trainers. If playing sports or doing PE, they much preferred to wear old fashioned gym shoes, a supplier of which they had found on the internet.
No doubt the craze would come to an end before too long, but at the time of the events which I am going to record it was at its height. The boys' parents were being driven to distraction. Being addressed as "Pater" and "Mater" had been mildly amusing at the beginning. Now it was just annoying. The endless replaying of a small stock of black and white videos of second rate children's films of the 1950s and 1960s (mostly about wholly unreal boarding schools) was even worse than having to put up with the modern variety preferred by normal children. The make believe world in which the boys lived had also been quite funny at the start. But it, too, had grown boring. The recounting of the behaviour of "cads", "rotters" and "bounders" at school. The tales of imaginary "scrummy" midnight feasts and "wizard" pillow fights and the "jolly hard swishings" or "six real stingers with the gym shoe" which followed them. All of this, and more, had become tedious in the extreme. But not to Justin and Sebastian. As far as they were concerned there would have been no more wonderful life than that of a twelve year old boy at a traditional English boarding school in 1962.
The summer half term was about to start. The boys went to a school in Wimbledon called Rutlish. It was, it has to be admitted, a perfectly ordinary comprehensive school. True, it had once been a grammar school attended, in his day, by the former British Prime Minister John Major. True, in its heyday, all boys had been addressed only by their surnames, prefects had held seemingly supreme powers, Latin had been compulsory, fagging (the system under which junior boys acted as unpaid servants to older ones) had been considered perfectly normal and the usual punishments had been beatings with canes or gym shoes. But, in 2002, its illustrious past was not immediately apparent to the casual observer (or indeed to most of its pupils). Needless to say, Justin and Sebastian had delighted in their researches into the school's history. They loved to imagine the place as it had been forty years earlier. They became incredibly proficient at blocking out the ugly (to them) truth of what the school had become. But it was undoubtedly the case that their best times were in the school holidays, when their imaginations could run riot without the constant reminders of the modern world which daily school routine inevitably gave them.
This half term was going to be one of the best. Both sets of parents were going to be away. Sebastian and Justin were going to stay in the Simmondses' house and were to be looked after by a young neighbour, Simon Pilkington, who would stay there as well. Simon was, to the boys' mild regret, very much a creature of the twenty first century. But he was easy going and, at only sixteen years old, relatively close to them in age. Furthermore, he had not been exposed as much as their parents had been to their craze. With any luck, they thought, he might enter into the spirit of things. They had already decided that he was to play the role of prefect in their imaginary school. They would be second year boys. Their researches had led them to the conclusion that boys in their second year at boarding schools had the most fun. They were more adventurous than new boys. They got into more "scrapes". Their pranks were more sophisticated. The downside, of course, was that second year boys also tended to be punished rather more than others. But that didn't worry them much. After all, if they broke the rules they would deserve to be punished. If their parents had not been away they would have had to suffer paternal punishments anyway, and, in both cases, those did not properly resemble school penalties of the early 1960s. The undignified experience of being dragged across fathers' knees, having trousers and pants pulled down and bottoms spanked was not nearly as romantic as going into a study, being told that they had let the school down and bending over to touch toes while gym shoes or canes were expertly applied to posteriors. No, if they had to be punished, it was their earnest desire that Simon (or "Pilkington" as they proposed to call him) would be prepared to play his part properly. They knew that he had been authorised to spank them, he would surely not take much persuading to use a gym shoe instead (they were not inclined to go so far as to propose the cane).
School finished at lunch time on the Friday. Justin and Sebastian rushed out of the gates. They were both of an athletic build and both were remarkably good looking. They were slightly tall for their years, Justin marginally more than Sebastian. Both were slim with finely toned muscles. As usual, unlike those of their school fellows who preferred the modern fashion of bagginess, their uniform dark trousers hugged their slim legs and buttocks tightly. Once off the school grounds, they took their jackets off and started to sprint into town. They were going to their favourite shop. It was a second hand book shop which often had volumes of old school stories. They hadn't been there for some weeks and they were hopeful that there might be something to add to their collection. Between them, they had £5. Usually, the books sold for 50p to £1. With any luck, they had thought, there might be more than one suitable volume.
Panting from their strenuous run, the lads arrived at the shop and eagerly pushed open the door. They went straight for the children's fiction shelves. There were a lot of boring modern books to sift through but, eventually, they struck gold. Right in the middle of the bottom shelf there were two wonderful looking books. One, "Midnight Mischief at Middleton Manor", had a splendid picture on its cover of three boys in a school dormitory bashing each other with pillows. Behind the pillow fighters was the figure of a tall young man, wearing gown and mortar board. He had just entered the door and was standing grimly, long cane in one hand, surveying the scene. Justin quickly turned to the inside cover page and looked at the price. At £1 it was on the expensive side, but it was clearly going to be a wonderful read. They had no doubt but that they had to buy it. The other volume had a plain cover. But its title was promising. It was simply called "Summoned to the Head's Study". Sebastian turned the pages. They had been disappointed before and he had to check that this was a boys' school story, not a girls'. He was relieved to see a picture on the first page of a boy, about his own age, standing outside a door marked "Headmaster". The boy was in school uniform. His right hand had raised his jacket tail and was cupping the right cheek of his bottom. His face was a picture of misery. Above the door were two lights. One was red the other was green. The red one was lit.
"Hey look Simmers", Sebastian screeched with delight, "here's another one with swishings in it".
Justin looked over his friend's shoulder.
"Wow, Rushy, that looks wizard. How much is it?"
Sebastian looked down. "Oh cripes Simmers, it's £10. It says it's a first edition. It'll take us weeks to save that much and I bet someone else will buy it before then."
Justin looked round the shop. The owner was busy talking to another customer at the counter. No one else was there.
Justin's voice fell to a whisper. "Look, why don't we slip it under one of our jackets. We could buy the other one and then, when we've saved enough, we could come back and pay for this one too. We'd say we suddenly remembered that we'd only paid for one and this was our first chance to come back and put things right."
"But that would be stealing. Only cads and bounders do that Simmers."
"No it wouldn't. It would just be sort of reserving the book to make sure no one else bought it."
"Well, it does look a brill read and it would be really grim if someone else bought it. OK, let's do it."
Justin took another furtive glance round the shop and slipped the book under his jacket. They then went to stand behind the other customer, waiting to pay for the cheaper book. The owner hardly looked at them when their turn came. He glanced up and registered the return of two of his most regular customers, took the proffered 50p and returned his attention to an ancient looking volume of poetry.
Once outside, the boys rushed to the bus stop and waited, looking rather guilty, for the bus which would take them almost to the door of Justin's parents' terraced house in the Wimbledon Park "Grid". They kept glancing nervously at the bookshop, but no irate owner appeared. The bus arrived and they jumped on, showing their passes to the driver.
Justin had a door key. Simon was probably already there, but they were eager to get inside, up to Justin's bedroom (called, of course, "the dorm") and into their new books. The door was open in seconds. They bounded in, shouted a greeting to Simon, and said they were just going upstairs to play for a while.
The boys sat, side by side, on one of the two beds. Justin had "Summoned to the Head's Study" and Sebastian had "Midnight Mischief". Both were deep in concentration when Simon opened the door.
"More jolly school yarns eh?" Simon asked.
His voice startled them and they both jerked their heads up.
"These ones are ace Pilkington" said Sebastian. "Here have a look". He showed the older boy the front cover of "Midnight Mischief".
Simon's voice was heavy with sarcasm as he spoke. "Oh I say lads, a spiffing good read I should say. What have you got Justin?"
"Please call me Simmonds Pilkington. It would be much more fun."
Simon stepped forward and glanced at the book in Justin's hand. Justin turned the pages back to the picture at the front. Simon took in the scene and smiled. Then he noticed the price, pencilled in on the opposite page.
"How on earth did you afford that? Your parents told me that you had £2.50 each and that you weren't to get any more pocket money till Monday."
Justin tried to think of a credible explanation. But none came to mind and, anyway, his face gave the game away.
"Oh no. You stole it, didn't you?"
Sebastian quickly interrupted. "No Pilkington, we are going to go back and pay for it as soon as we've saved up, honestly. We just couldn't risk someone else buying it in the meantime."
"So, if I go to the shop and ask the owner he'll tell me that he let you take the book before paying will he?"
"Well, not exactly", said Justin. "I mean he doesn't exactly know that we took it. But I'm sure he wouldn't mind."
"That may not be stealing in your dictionary, but it certainly is in mine. You two are going to pay for this in more ways than one. But first, you are going to come back to the shop with me and hand over £10 which I will lend you till the end of half term."
Simon opened the door and waved the boys through. The three of them left the house and went to the bus stop on the other side of the road. While they were waiting, Justin nervously asked Simon a question.
"You're not going to make us tell the truth are you? He'll never let us in to his shop again if you do."
Simon thought for a moment.
"No. Since I am going to deal with you myself when we get back, there's no need for anyone else to know what you've done. You can go in on your own and tell the owner that you forgot to pay."
The boys cheered up on hearing Simon's decision.
"I say Pilkington" Sebastian asked, "are you going to give us a perfectly foul punishment?"
"All I'll say at the moment is that both your fathers have told me how you are usually punished and both have given me permission to punish you in the same way. But I'm not going to make up my mind till we get back. Just don't count on being able to sit down comfortably this evening."
The boys glanced at each other and, as one, mimicked the picture at the front of the Head's Study. They winked conspiratorially. They realised that the time for persuading Simon to act like a prefect rather than a stand-in father was fast approaching.
The bookshop owner was profuse in his praise for the boys' honesty. He hadn't even noticed the book had gone missing. He even reduced the price, to £7.50, as a reward. Once out of the shop, Sebastian handed Simon the change.
"Well, at least you're honest sometimes."
The boys knew they could not raise the subject of the form their punishment was to take until they were safely at home, away from causal listeners. The return journey was mostly spent in uncomfortable silence.
Back at home the trio went into the sitting room.
"Right boys", Simon sounded suitably stern, "is there anything you want to say before I decide on your punishment?"
The boys looked at each other. There was a pause for a moment. Then Sebastian spoke.
"We know we've been real bounders Pilkington and we've let the side down really badly. All I'd say is that we're really sorry and we definitely won't do anything like that again. So, if it's not asking too much, I just wonder whether you think that a really hard slippering, rather than a swishing with the cane, would be enough?"
Simon looked puzzled.
"Your fathers didn't say anything about slippers or canes. They both said that a good old fashioned bare bottom spanking was the way to deal with you."
"But surely you agree Pilkington", said Justin, "we're really much too old to have our bottoms smacked. It'll be much easier for you if you slipper us. We've got a really hard and bendy size 12 gym shoe you could use. We'd come to Pater's study and bend over without being forced and we wouldn't budge till our six of the bests were over. Please give us a proper school whacking."
"I see what you're up to. You're going to pad your trousers aren't you?"
"Crikey Pilkington", Sebastian immediately protested, "we're not the sort of rotters who can't take their punishment like men. As far as I'm concerned I don't mind taking my trousers and pants down afterwards to prove there's no padding. If there is, you could give me another six on my bare bum."
"Me too" said Justin.
Simon thought for a moment. He had been rather looking forward to finding out how good he was at spanking and watching the boys' slim round bottoms turn scarlet as the slaps rained down. On the other hand, he was not unmoved by the prospect of giving them a really sound thrashing with a gym shoe, especially if he could look at the end result afterwards. Eventually he spoke.
"Well, I suppose you do deserve rather more than a spanking. OK, go and get the gym shoe and we'll get it over and done with."
Sebastian explained that they had already put the shoe in Justin's fathers study. "There's a cane there too, but with any luck we won't have to get that. Shall we go and stand outside the study till youre ready?"
"I don't think there's any need for that, we can all go together."
"That's not how it's done", Justin patiently explained. "Boys are always made to stand outside the study before a whacking. Then you come along and you go in on your own and do some paperwork for a minute or two and then you call us in. If we'd got into trouble separately, you would make one of us wait outside till you'd whacked the other one, but as we did it together we can watch each other's whackings."
Simon gave in. "OK, I'll go along with your play acting. It'll hurt just as much however we do it. Off you go then, wait outside the study."
The boys turned and headed for the door. Both were rubbing their bottoms in anticipation. Simon waited a couple of minutes and then followed. The two miscreants were standing by the study door looking down at their feet. It was not all acting. Now that the moment they had dreamt about for ages was actually upon them, they were both more than mildly apprehensive. They guessed that it was going to hurt a lot and they were dreading the possibility that they would cry. Simon walked past them without giving them a further glance. He went into the study and closed the door.
Another two or three minutes passed. Then they heard the summons.
"Come in boys".
Justin turned the handle. Both boys gave one final stroke to their bottoms. Then they walked in.
Simon had found the gym shoe. He was holding it in his right hand and flexing it with his left. When they saw it again, in these circumstances, they both thought it looked awesome.
"Right, you know you've done wrong. I'm not going to bother with a telling off. Who's going to be first?".
"I will" both boys exclaimed together.
"You're Simmonds's guest Rushmore. So you can be first. Step forward and bend over."
Sebastian needed no further guidance. He knew from endless research exactly how a boy bent over for a beating. He placed his feet slightly apart and touched his toes, keeping his legs perfectly straight. The already tight trousers stretched even more tightly across his firm bottom. The outline of his underpants could clearly be seen. There was no way he could have used padding without its being obvious. Simon, who had himself been subject to parental spankings until the age of thirteen but had never been slippered or caned, admired the boy's courage, as well as the contours of his buttocks. He stepped forward and gently took aim. Sebastian felt the sole touching his bottom and flinched slightly. Simon drew the weapon back and swung it forward with surprising force. Sebastian felt a rush of air and then there was a resounding crack as the shoe slammed into his flesh. Fortunately, he had braced himself for it and he managed to stay almost perfectly still. The pain came a second later, and it was a hundred times worse than it was after the first smack from his father. But he didn't make a sound. Simon took his time. He waited for a good ten seconds between each stroke. They didn't get gentler. Sebastian was in complete agony at the end. But he hadn't moved and he hadn't cried. It was with a feeling of elation that he rose from the ordeal and furiously rubbed his burning bottom.
"Crikey Pilkington, that was a whacking and a half. My bum feels like it's on fire."
Justin had watched his friend's thrashing with an increasingly heavy heart. While it was undoubtedly fascinating to see a genuine school beating (or nearly genuine), a great deal of the fun was taken out of it by the knowledge that his own bottom would shortly be on the receiving end. He was praying earnestly that he would take his punishment as well as Sebastian had. He may have been terrified, but he was no chicken. He stepped forward immediately and bent over without being told to.
Simon looked at his next target. If anything, Justin's buttocks were very slightly fuller than Sebastian's. The shape seemed a little rounder. But there was the same general impression of firm, slim flesh. The trousers were again stretched tightly round the bottom and, again, the outline of underpants was visible through them. By this time, to Simon's surprise, he was aware that he was becoming aroused by the proceedings. He had occasionally fantasised about spankings when between the sheets at night. But the imagined victim had always been a naughty teenage girl. He was perplexed, and a little distressed, to find that these youthful male bottoms were producing the same effect on him as the poster of the knickerless tennis playing girl which featured so frequently in his night time exercises. He didn't think that he was yet hard enough for a bulge to be obviously visible. But it was getting stiffer by the minute. He took a deep breath and swung the shoe violently against Justin's waiting bottom. If he was sensible, he thought to himself, he would get this second beating over with as quickly as possible and get out of the room before the boys spotted anything. But he had really enjoyed drawing it out with Sebastian, and anyway it would not be fair to treat the boys differently. He took the same ten second pauses between the strokes.
Simon need not have worried. Sebastian was far too keen on watching his friend's whacking to look at the front of Simon's trousers. Now that his own punishment was over and done with, he could get some real interest and, he had to admit to himself, pleasure from watching Justin getting it. He was, obviously, not as physically advanced as Simon, but that did not stop him from noticing a similar, rather enjoyable, feeling in the area of his groin. But it was not unalloyed pleasure. He was humane enough to wince as each stroke connected. He knew the agony Justin was experiencing and, while he wouldn't have wanted it to stop for a second, he was also deeply sympathetic to his friend's plight.
Finally, it was over. Justin rose, grabbed his bottom with both hands and let out a deep sigh.
"Cripes, Rushy, I see what you mean. I'd no idea a boy's bum could feel as hot as mine does. Jolly good show Pilkington. I'm sure that was really good for me."
Simon was now able to hold the shoe in such a way as to prevent the younger boys from seeing his state of arousal. He remembered their promise to demonstrate the absence of padding. He knew it was not necessary, but he desperately hoped they would do what they had said they would. But he didn't want them to realise how keen he was. He made as though to go to the door.
"Hang on Pilkington", said Sebastian, "we haven't shown you that our bums weren't padded".
In a rather half hearted way, Simon said it would not be necessary.
"No, we gave our word", Justin was undoing his trousers as he spoke, "here, see for yourself". He lowered his trousers, turned round and pulled his pants down to just below his bottom. This was the icing on the cake. Simon felt himself throbbing against his trousers as he looked at the bright scarlet bottom. He wanted to lean forward and feel the heat with his hand, but he knew that would be to go too far. Sebastian lowered his trousers and pants too. The colour was the same. This was a sight never to be forgotten.
The boys looked admiringly at each other's bottoms before pulling up their trousers again. Justin congratulated them on having taken their punishments like men and all three left the room.
In the passage Simon said he had some homework he had to do in his bedroom. He thought he would be about half an hour, especially if he wasn't disturbed. The boys promised they would leave him alone. They would go to their "dorm" and read a bit more of their new books.
Simon bounded up the stairs. He still had the gym shoe in his hand. He was about to return it to the study when it occurred to him that it might be quite a good prop for what he was really going to do. When he got to his room, he locked the door and put a CD on. He turned the volume up high and furiously undid his trousers to release the throbbing organ beneath. He caught sight of his own round and slim buttocks in the mirror. They were still those of a boy, not a man. The flesh was firm and white. He had dropped the gym shoe when taking his trousers down. Now he picked it up again and swung it behind him across his own bottom. It was not as hard, because of the difficult angle, but the whack still hurt and the pink splodge that appeared was most gratifying. He gave himself another five whacks before throwing himself onto the bed and starting the slowly increasing pumping. Five minutes later he was moaning with pleasure as the liquid spurted out.
Justin and Sebastian were far too excited by their own experience of schoolboy punishment to settle down to read. They also locked their door before taking their trousers down once again to show off their wounds to each other. The marks were turning into bruises. They found the sight fascinating. But each also noticed something else about the other. Their small penises were not so small as they had been half an hour earlier.
Sebastian was the first to say something.
"I say Simmers, you know how Robertson and Titmuss are always talking about how they 'wank'? Do you think schoolboys in the olden days did it too?"
"I was wondering that the other day. I mean, it doesn't seem a very healthy sort of thing to do, but the feeling is sometimes so strong that I bet even the cream of the First Eleven used to give in occasionally."
"Have you ever done it?"
Justin blushed slightly before answering. "Promise you won't tell anyone?"
"Of course".
"Well, I have done it a bit. I started a few months ago, just after reading the bit in the Moulsford Prep when Laker got swished for talking after lights out. I reckon that it must be OK if you think about really healthy things like that when you do it. What about you?"
"The amazing thing is that I had my first one after reading the same chapter. I think it was the way he describes the cane biting into his flesh that got me going. I'm sure you're right that it's all right so long as you think about swishings and slipperings and things, so long as it's not girls getting it of course. That would hardly be a healthy thing for sporting schoolboys to think about. At least, not until they're a bit older."
"Look, we've both just had the thrashings of our lives. Pilkington's safely in his room for half an hour. What do you say to doing it now?"
"I don't mind telling you, I'm just desperate to do it. Come on, let's lie on our beds. We can see who can make it last longest."
So, trousers and underpants round their ankles, the two boys hobbled to their beds, lay on their backs and started doing what, if the truth be known, schoolboys have done since schools were invented. And they kept going for a creditably long time. Justin came first, after about seven minutes, and Sebastian followed a couple of seconds later.
"Wow", screeched Sebastian, "that was just brill. Look, some spunk has come out. That's the first time."
"And me too. I say Rushy, what do you think it'll be like if we get a proper swishing?"
"Well, if it's even better than that it'll be fabulous. When our bums are better, let's do something really naughty and get caught by Pilkington and get him to use the cane."
"How many do you think we should get?"
"Three or four I should think."
"OK, I'm game for that. Do you know Rushy, I reckon this half term is going to be just the best any boy has ever had."