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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, Roger 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. Things developed even further when he met Russell Omerod who introduced Roger to his old headmaster who birched him. Russell also uncovered Roger's desire for caning when he realised that his story was not true. This enabled him to lead him on to other experiences as well.
Russell had also introduced Roger to his cousin, Basil Chapman. He had set up a visit for Roger to his own old school where he had had a very effective caning from Mr Lovell, the Gym Master. He was also required to go for more and that turned out to be a walloping with a variety of weapons from the entire set of prefects.
After that, he and Russell got completely drunk. They were punished for this by Basil who also agreed to give either of them thrashings when they deserved it. Later, when staying with Basil, Roger made his own arrangements with another local school, Bournville Hill, before another session in bed with Basil. Basil also suggested that Roger should have a cane available in case he met someone willing to do it but not equipped. This had paid off when he found a stranger willing to give him not one but two good canings.
Ian Bacon, one of the prefects involved in Roger's ceremonial walloping has come to university and cheats in the same way that Roger did. He has to be thrashed to save his career and arranges that he will have further instalments if they are necessary.
Now read on.
About a week after Roger had caned Ian he decided that he ought to come clean with him about his visit to Ian's school. It was a confession which was to have consequences he did not expect. He decided that they ought to be completely private and so invited Ian round for the evening.
As they settled down to talk, Ian said, "I'm glad you made it clear that this was social. If you hadn't, I might have been worried about whether you'd caught me out doing something serious again."
Roger replied, "That was why I said that, but it wasn't completely true. I did want to talk seriously, but it's about what I've done, not you."
"Don't you go to Basil about things like that?"
"Not this. Now, if you'll give me a chance, I'll get to the point."
Ian grinned. "Sorry, Roger."
"Right. If you cast your mind back, I told you about why I'd been at your school when we met. That wasn't exactly true, I'm afraid."
"Did you invent the reason so that I'd know you understood?"
"Not exactly. The reason had been true, but wasn't then. I had copied some stuff for an essay and I was given the option of arranging a caning, like I said. I went across to see my uncle and ask him to do it but her was away and wasn't going to be back for ages. I was fairly shattered and set out to drive back. A man was hitching a lift and, if I remember correctly, he could see that I was upset and asked why. I told him. He seemed a decent, working, countryman and, when he offered to do it for me, I accepted. That was the first time I'd been caned, but it wasn't the first time I'd thought about it. I'd imagined it as long as I can remember, especially when I was wanking. Well, some time later I was giving another man a lift. Some lads had been stupid at the slip road where I picked him up and he started talking about discipline. He'd been in the Navy and he'd been involved in officially caning apprentices. It occurred to me that he would have done as well as the first man I'd told the story to and I tried it again. That got me another caning and he thought that it was for cheating."
"But by then, it wasn't that it would save your career, it was just that you wanted a good whacking?"
"Yes. I think so. I can't explain it. I'm not a psychologist. Now that I know Basil it wouldn't be the same if he gave me one for that. It's only right if the person giving it to me thinks I deserve it. The next time it happened, I'd picked a lad up. You haven't met him yet. He's called Russell and he's Basil's cousin. The subject moved onto discipline and corporal punishment. I did wonder whether he would offer to cane me and I told him the story. Instead, he offered to take me to his old school and explain the problem to his headmaster. He persuaded me and I was actually birched there. Russell and I became friends and he introduced me to Basil. We told him my story and he made the arrangements for me to go to your school with the same story. That's how we got to you and you and I met."
"I think I can understand. I'm a bit like that as well. I was lucky, though. I can get caned if I feel bad about things at home."
"Your parents?"
"Oh, no. There's Dad's tawse but I doubt if he'll ever use it again and he didn't use it much when I was younger. It's the Rector in our village. Everybody knows that he uses the cane and the strap. Don't get me wrong. He doesn't get up to things with choirboys or anything like that. He keeps a cane in the choir vestry and if a choirboy does do something wrong, he'll get a few across his trousers. I know that there are a couple of families where the fathers are away in the forces. Their mothers take the lads to him if they've done something wrong and their dads aren't at home. I did hear that one of the village lads, a few years ago, was caught stealing things from the village shop. Mr Watkinson saw the lad's parents and they gave him the choice between having a whacking from him or it going to the police. He had the whacking and he's been on the straight ever since, as far as I know."
Roger said, "That's rather like both of us."
"Yes. There's more as well. I've heard Mum say that he even saved a marriage in the village. They were both having something on the side and he sent for them both, had it out with them and gave them a really good walloping so that they could make a new start. Well, one day, it was in the summer holiday between my second and third year in the sixth form, I met him and we got talking. I don't know why, but I told him that I was missing school. He asked me what I meant and I told him that it sort of cleared my conscience if I had a caning when I'd done something wrong. He asked me if I'd done something wrong and I had. I'd taken five pounds I'd found under the sideboard when I'd been looking for something else. He was really good. He said he wouldn't do anything unless I was prepared to put things right. I told him that I hadn't spent it and would it be all right if I said I'd just found it and then handed it over. He said that would be right and I said that even if I did that, I'd still nicked it and thought that I ought to be punished. He told me that I could go round and see him at the Rectory after I'd given it back. I did and he caned me. He said he'd do it again if I needed to clear my conscience like that providing that I'd done what I could to correct things first. I've been a couple of times. He's really good. You know, he gives me exactly what I deserve. Why don't you go and see him? I could introduce you."
Roger said, "I'm not sure. He's got a responsibility for you. You live in his parish."
"Well, you could arrange to see him to ask for his advice, couldn't you?"
"I could do that without needing to involve you."
"Yes, but if he did do something and you wanted a bit of comfort afterwards, you could arrange to see him on a Friday. I sometimes go home for the weekend and my parents always go out on Fridays. It's as regular as clockwork and they're never back before midnight."
A couple of weeks later, Ian was proposing to have a weekend at home. Apart from anything else, it was a cheap way of getting his washing done.
In preparation, during the early afternoon, Roger was telephoning the Reverend Patrick Watkinson, the Rector of a village about half way between Bristol and Weston-Super-Mare.
Roger heard the phone ringing. It stopped and a voice said, "Patrick Watkinson, here."
Roger said, "I'm sorry to disturb you, Rector. I have a serious problem and I need some confidential advice. I hesitate to say this, but I would find it very difficult to discuss it with my own vicar. I'm sure it would be remain confidential with him but I'm not sure that he would understand the problem. Certainly, it will be easier with a stranger."
"Why did you come to me?"
"Just that I've been through your village and seen your church and your name on the notice board."
"I can see you this evening, if that will be suitable."
"Thank you very much, sir. Will seven o'clock be convenient for you?"
"I'll expect you. By the way, do you want to tell me your name?"
"I'm sorry, sir. I'm Roger Livingstone."
"I'll see you at seven this evening, then, Roger."
Roger put the phone down and said, "He'll see me at seven this evening, Ian."
"With luck, it takes about half an hour to drive out there."
"Well, I'll pick you up at six. I can drop you at your place and waste a bit of time if I have to. That way, I'll know where you live and I can make sure that I arrive at the Rectory at exactly the right time for the appointment."
"Can you make it a bit earlier?"
"Yes, why?"
"If we can get home at six, you can meet my parents and have something to eat. As well as that, you can go to the toilet just before you set off for the rectory. That'll make sure you aren't bursting for a pee when you get there. He hasn't said anything directly, but I think he understands about boarding schools, if you know what I mean. If you had to ask to go just before he canes you, he might wonder whether you were going for a wank. Even more if you had to ask after he'd done it."
"True. Thanks. Won't your parents mind?"
"No. I came clean to them about making a fool of myself and I told them how you'd helped me. They'd like to meet you."
At about a quarter to seven that evening, Roger left the Bacon household and drove to the Rectory. He sat in his car for five minutes and then got out, locked the car and walked up the long drive to the fine Georgian house which was where he was aiming. He hesitated and then rang the bell.
Footsteps in the corridor led to the door opening. He was facing a well built, middle aged, clerical gentleman.
"I rang earlier to ask if you could spare me some time, sir."
"Come in, Roger."
He led the way to his study, offered Roger a chair and sat down at his desk.
"You said you had a problem?"
"Yes, sir. I'm a post graduate student at the university."
"Lucky man. I was never clever enough to have the chance of doing a higher degree."
"I might have blown it, sir."
"How's that?"
"It was sheer stupidity, sir. I found an obscure Journal with an article relating to my research. I haven't got to the final writing up stage. I'm nowhere near that but I did copy much of that into my preliminary work. I passed it over to my supervisor but it was taken from his study by a senior member of the department who taught me as an undergraduate and was wondering how I was getting on. He recognised the material I had copied and he sent for me."
"I can't see why you need advice, apart from the practical advice on sorting out a different career for yourself if he knows. You'll be out on your ear."
"No, sir. That's the point. He said it was fortunate that he happened to take it. If my supervisor had seen it, he would have no choice. He would have had to report me. As it is, he could regard it as an informal, unofficial look. He's a fairly old man, sir and he said that he thought that I'd behaved like a _d_a_m_n_ed stupid schoolboy rather that a graduate student. I have to admit that he is right. He is rightly adamant that I ought to be punished but he has offered me the choice. It can go the official route. Obviously, I don't want that. Alternatively, I could accept an unofficial punishment."
The Rector said, "In view of his comment about your behaving like schoolboy, he was suggesting a schoolboy's thrashing?"
"That sort of thing, sir, only more serious."
"I don't see why you need to consult me. It's obvious that that's the route you should take. Let him beat you."
"That's still not the central problem sir, but your saying that means that you may be able to advise me better than my local vicar. I think he would be shocked that I'd done anything wrong and even more shocked that there was any suggestion of taking an unofficial way out. He'd want everything by the book."
"I've met people like that. It seems to me to be ridiculous in circumstances like this. You've done wrong. You accept it and no doubt you're going to put it right, if you get the chance. Your tutor says that you ought to be punished and I agree with him. Something as serious as this shouldn't simply be allowed to slip by. He suggests a thrashing. I agree with him about that as well. For many people there's nothing like a good sharp shock to bring them to their senses and I think you're such a young man. Now, what's the problem?"
"It's actually being punished, sir. My tutor can't do it. He's got a dodgy heart. He told me to ask a relative or friend to do it. I can't go back to ask my old school, sir. They don't use the cane and are opposed to corporal punishment. I've only got one relative in the country. That's an uncle and he's away and won't be back in time. Obviously, I've got to get it done. I think he wants to see the evidence that it's happened but even if he didn't, I couldn't bring myself to lie to him and say it had been done if it hasn't. The only friends I've got in this area are at the university. I couldn't ask anyone to cane me or anything like that without explaining why and it's obvious that I can't explain why."
"Because you'd be too embarrassed?"
"No, sir. He's being very good to allow me this option but it wouldn't be fair to him if anyone else in the university knew what he was doing. I think the real question I need to discuss is how can I get caned? Is there something wrong in my reasoning?"
"No. I agree with you and I apologise for suggesting that your embarrassment was the reason for not asking a friend. You are right. It has to remain confidential and you couldn't discuss it with any other member of the university. I'm also pleased that your basic honesty prevents you even contemplating trying to lie your way out of it."
"Even if I was tempted, sir, I know I'm just no good at fibbing."
"It could almost be that you have been guided to me. I do use a cane from time to time. Boys in the parish may misbehave and sometimes the parents turn to me. There have also been occasions parallel to yours when an older boy has done something more serious and the person who has been offended has agreed that a thrashing would be a better way out than bringing the police in. I will make an offer. If you will accept the punishment I deem is correct for your offence, I'll give you your thrashing."
"Just one thing, sir. What do I do if I think that what you've given me wouldn't be enough to satisfy him?"
"A fair point. Very well, if you will accept the punishment I deem is correct or ask for more if you think I have not given you enough, I'll do it for you."
"Thank you, sir. I accept that. I thought I was coming to ask for advice. It never occurred to me that you would provide the solution. I am most grateful."
"You may not be when I have finished."
"I will, sir. I know it was serious and almost any thrashing is better than the official alternative. I deserve whatever I get."
"I'm pleased that you're looking at it that way. Now, if I were dealing with a boy's offence, I'd have him bent over into a chair in here. I'm afraid you're more serious but I've got something that will help you stay in place. Come with me."
He led the way out of the study and up the stairs saying, "The advantage of a house this size is that we have spare rooms."
He led Roger into what would normally have been a bedroom. The Rector said, "This is a bit of a lumber room."
He went to the side of the room and brought out a solidly made piece of furniture.
He explained, "I spent a few years teaching between my last parish and here. Believe it or not, this was in the school and was used for securing the boys for their beatings. The headmaster was taken ill and had to retire. I took the opportunity to get this out of the building and so the new headmaster was not even tempted to use it. He did not even know of its existence. However, I have used it here for the occasional thrashing of an older person which is serious enough for them to find it difficult to remain in place for it. I'm going to use it for you."
Roger said, "You'll want my trousers off as well, I suppose, sir?"
"It would be better. We'll maintain the decencies. Keep your underpants on."
Roger took his jacket off and laid it on a cupboard. He unfastened his belt, lowered his trousers and stepped out of them. He placed them with his jacket. He knew that he had reached his Rubicon. The equipment he was to use was a solid trestle with a leather covered, shaped top designed to hold an offender in place. There were leather straps which would secure ankles and wrists and a larger one which would go round his waist. Once he was over that, there would be no going back. There could be no escape. He went into place.
Mr Watkinson said, "I hope you don't mind being secured. It will be better."
"I'm grateful, sir. My school didn't use the cane but I know it's got to hurt. That's the point. It's got to be even more serious because I'm older and I'm intelligent enough for me to have no excuse. I should have had more sense than do it. Just one thing, sir. If I ask you to stop, will you ignore me, please?"
"I was going to. That was why I asked you to agree to accept what I thought was needed. I have had one person ask for it to stop but he was grateful in the end that I did not."
He found himself strapped in place. He looked as the Rector crossed the room and returned with a cane. Roger knew that another serious session was about to start and that he now had no escape. He felt the weapon rest across his rump. He felt it move away. He knew that it would soon return.
CRRACKK!
It did! It struck with tremendous force, sending what had become a familiar shock wave of pain rushing out and filling his body.
Roger realised that this bitter-sweet sensation was not only painful but it was also cleansing. He braced himself for the second. The Rector was a patient man, not given to rushing. It was a full fifteen seconds before it arrived.
CRRACKK!
Once again, the surge of pain. Roger estimated that this was a parallel line to the first and slightly below it. He knew that there would to two red lines across his cheeks, deepening in colour and filling to become weals.
CRRACKK! Roger was claming his jaws together to prevent a sound of shock or protest being forced out.
CRRACKK!
CRRACKK!
CRRACKK!
Roger knew that that was six. The Rector had moved into a steady routine. A stroke, about a fifteen second pause, another stroke and so on.
Roger's rump was becoming more aware of the cane's arrival.
CRRACKK!
CRRACKK!
CRRACKK!
CRRACKK!
CRRACKK!
CRRACKK!
That was twelve. Roger was already wondering how many more and hoping that there would not be too many.
CRRACKK!
CRRACKK!
CRRACKK!
CRRACKK!
CRRACKK!
CRRACKK!
Another six. Eighteen.
CRRACKK!
CRRACKK!
CRRACKK!
That was twenty one. Roger heard the Rector move away. He was surprised. He would have expected a rounded figure. If it was to stop around now, then possibly twenty, but more likely to be twenty four or twenty five, two dozen or a quarter of a century. He looked round. He was now returning. The cane had been put down. In its place was a riding crop.
Mr Watkinson saw that Roger had seen it.
"It is serious as we agreed. I'm rounding it off with a few with this. It will drive the message home more clearly."
He returned. Roger clamped is jaws together and prayed for strength.
SLLassHHH!
It cut into the very top of Roger's legs. It was a region the Rector had left and it was an agonising pain. Roger could not help it. An anguished cry was forced from his lips.
Mr Watkinson said, "I'm sorry, but it's got to be done."
Roger forced himself to say, "I know, sir."
"It's better this way than many more with the cane. This is quicker."
He was allowed twenty seconds or so to recover and it struck into him again.
SLLassHHH!
It was still the previously untouched area on the lower part of his buttocks, just above the previous cut. Another pause and then another lash.
SLLassHHH!
Mr Watkinson said, "Well done, Roger. That's enough."
He released him. Roger got to his feet and put exploring hands around to the damage, very gently running over the ridges the riding crop had produced.
He faced the Rector and said, "Thank you, sir."
"Going back to your comments some time ago, I take it that you aren't going to suggest that he won't be satisfied?"
"I think he will be, sir. I couldn't take any more now."
He thought and added, "Actually, if you'd gone on I wouldn't have had any choice."
"That's right, but I couldn't go on. You entrusted yourself to me. I had to give you what I believe is right. It would have been wrong to go even one stroke beyond that. You'd better get dressed."
Roger went to his trousers and said, "I'm sorry, sir."
As Roger dressed the Rector said, "I'm as sure as I can be that your tutor will be satisfied. If he's not, try to ask him how much more he thinks you should have. I imagine that he'll be able to recognise the power I used from the marks we've produced."
Roger fastened his trouser belt and said, "That was fairly bad, sir, but I'm already glad it was. It's not just satisfying my tutor. I think I feel better in my conscience as well."
"I've met other young men who feel like that. You might find, after a week or two, that you wish you had been given some more. If you do, please come back and discuss it. In the same way, if you do something else you feel guilty about and a private thrashing would help clear your conscience, please come along."
Roger started to put his jacket on and said, "Thank you, sir. I think I can understand what you mean. If there's anything, I might take you up on that."
"Don't worry. I won't use the riding crop again unless you specifically ask for it or it is something extremely serious and, like today, it is in place of a more serious official punishment."
"I think I'd have had to do something fairly terrible to want that again. It was right then, but not for clearing a conscience."
They went back downstairs. Roger thanked the Rector again and walked down the drive. He unlocked his car, opened the door and lowered himself very gently onto the seat. He set off and was soon parking outside Ian's home.
As he locked the car again, Ian came out.
"How did it go?"
"He gave me a really good thrashing. When it was happening, I thought the last three were over the top. He used a riding crop."
"Wow!"
"Actually, quite soon afterwards, I was glad that he had. It rounded it all off, well."
"Well, you're coming in, aren't you?"
"Why do you think I've come?"
They went in together and went upstairs.
In Ian's bedroom, the both stripped. Ian saw the stripes and said, "Hell! That's bad."
"It hurt but it's made me feel great."
"I can see that. Sorry if you want my mouth. I had an emergency visit to the dentist this afternoon and he took a tooth out."
"I'm sure you'll be splendid with your hand. I need it or I'll come on the bed while you finish things off."
They lay together, a towel on the bed between them to avoid leaving evidence for parents to see. Ian took Roger's throbbing organ. Roger took his friend's much quieter one. By the time the massive flow of creamy fluid was gushing from Roger, Ian's had been prepared for its task. Roger turned over. Once again, he felt the Vaseline inserted as a lubricant. Then there was the comforting feeling of his friend's groin covering his stripes and bruises. He felt him enter and drive deeper. He felt the thrust and partial withdrawal and thought of the power of a steam railway engine piston. Then he was aware of the power of Ian's orgasm.
It had been very worthwhile and there was the possibility of his return to the Rector whenever he wanted to.
To be continued.