Although James Dawson was in the year below Oliver and Simon, he was not that much younger than them. Oliver's thirteenth birthday was to be in November, Simon's in October and James's in the following February. Furthermore, all three boys were now in the First XV. Simon had proved a very fast learner (he had only played soccer at his previous school) and was now generally thought to be nearly as good as Oliver. They were now in the penultimate week of the Christmas term. They had played several matches against other schools, both away and at home, and their shared experiences had led to the two more senior boys befriending James. The fact that Oliver occasionally had to slipper him did not detract from the friendship at all. James accepted corporal punishment, even from prefects who were almost as young as him, as being an unfortunate but entirely necessary part of normal school life. I am not sure that he even thought it was really unfortunate. After all, with any luck, he would himself one day be a prefect. When that happened he was sure that he would find that the power to slipper younger boys would be a very useful one.
Those who did not grow up in the English private school system of the 1970s and 1980s may be surprised by James's attitude to his occasional punishments. But I can assure you that it was entirely typical. There is a lot of nonsense talked about the humiliation involved in beating boys' bottoms. It is no doubt true that boys feel humiliated when they are spanked by their parents at home, but prep school boys of the time of which I am writing were not in the least humiliated by having to bend over for a slippering. Indeed, they proudly displayed their bruised bottoms to all their friends as a sort of badge of honour. James had not the slightest difficulty in laughing and joking with Oliver shortly after the older boy had given him four hard whacks with his slipper, just as though nothing had happened. It also helped, of course, that Oliver himself was still subject to corporal punishment from masters. In fact, on one day a couple of weeks before the episode I am about to describe, Oliver had slippered James after games and then gone straight to the headmaster's study for six of the best with a gym shoe. The two boys had then met to compare the marks on their bottoms like any other twelve year old friends would do if they had been beaten together for some childish prank.
Simon still had a strange feeling of guilt as a result of the fact that, although he had been slippered three times by masters, he had still not been slippered by a prefect. He felt very strongly that it would be wrong for him to be appointed as a prefect, as was likely to happen at the beginning of the next term, if he had never had the experience of being on the receiving end of a prefect's beating himself. As a non-prefect sixth former he would normally only be subject to beatings from masters and the head boy. Because he was sharing a prefect's study bedroom with Oliver, in deference to the rank which he would certainly have achieved if his previous school had not closed down, the headmaster had decided to make Oliver, not the head boy, responsible for his day to day discipline. That actually had the effect of reducing the occasions on which the slipper was likely to be produced. A common slippering offence, for instance, was talking after lights out. If Simon committed that offence, he would inevitably be doing it with Oliver, who could hardly wallop his friend for doing exactly what he was doing himself. Also, Simon had become very popular very fast and the other prefects, who could send him to Oliver to be dealt with for misbehaviour, were not inclined to do so if they could avoid it. Simon had often said that he would not accept an appointment as a prefect until he had been slippered by Oliver, and he was now becoming worried about whether it would ever happen. He needn't have been.
It was a Saturday afternoon. Oliver was supervising a junior boys' rugby game. Simon and James were at a loose end. They were kicking a ball around in the courtyard and getting somewhat bored. Then James had an idea.
"Hey look, Sime, why don't we go down town to the flicks? I Know a secret way through a gap in the back wall. We could get through without being seen. The film will be over in plenty of time for us to get back for evening roll call. No one would ever know."
The local cinema, Simon knew, was showing a Western which he was desperate to see. He was not a boy to be put off an adventure just because it was against the rules. He thought James's suggestion absolutely splendid. The boys formulated their plan. It would be dangerous, they were well aware, to go into the town in school uniform. There had been a couple of recent incidents in which busybody shopkeepers had reported boys to the school for being in town unattended. On the other hand, it was also an offence, even at the weekends, for boys to wear home clothes. There was just one weekend a term, and this was not it, when boys were allowed to wear mufti. What they decided to do was to pack a bag with jeans and T shirts and take it with them to the woods by the back wall of the school grounds. Once there, they would change out of their school uniforms, bury the bag under a tree and make their escape through the gap of which James knew.
James went to his dormitory to collect his clothes. Simon went to his study bedroom where James joined him. They packed the bag, putting some school books on top to disguise the presence of the clothes in case any master or prefect asked them to open it. Then they set off across the back playing fields towards the woods. They were technically out of bounds, but the boys were lucky in that no prefects or masters were in sight. With one last furtive look around, they darted into the trees. It was about a hundred yards to the back wall. They decided to go all the way there before changing. They found a large oak tree which would be impossible to miss on their return journey and stopped there to change. They took off their jackets, shirts, trousers and school shoes. Fortunately, it was unseasonably warm and they did not shiver too much as they ferreted through the bag, dressed only in white underpants and socks, in search of their home clothes. Both had chosen fashionably tight blue jeans which, with some difficulty, they managed to squeeze round their bottoms. The jeans made their slim, muscular legs appear even longer than they were and their firm buttocks seemed slightly rounder and more protuberant. Once changed, they quickly packed their school clothes into the bag, dug a shallow hole in the soil under the tree and buried the bag there. Then they inched towards James's secret gap. Sure enough, there was a small hole in the wall, just big enough for two slim twelve year olds to crawl through.
This was a tricky moment because they would not be able to see clearly whether there was any figure of authority taking a walk along the road outside until they were fully through. Both boys had that familiar feeling of butterflies in the tummy so well known to mischievous school boys throughout the land. James went first. He painfully inched through the hole. He got through. No one was in sight. He called Simon to follow him. Soon they were standing on the pavement brushing the dirt off their jean and shirts. Simon noticed there was still some loose earth on the seat of Jamess jeans.
"Your bum's got some dirt on it, shall I dust it down for you?"
As has been noted before, Simon, who had now become something of an expert in these things, reckoned that James's bottom was one of the best, so far as suitability for the slipper was concerned, in the whole school. This was an opportunity he did not want to miss.
"Thanks", James turned and bent slightly to allow his friend to clean him up.
This was even better. Simon thought the sight of James's jeans encased bottom was wonderful, he took a gentle swipe at it. Some mud was stubbornly sticking.
"I think I might have to give you quite a smack to get rid of it all. Is that OK?"
James laughed. "Fancy getting in a bit of practice for when you're a prefect do you? OK, give me a good spank."
Simon drew back his hand and gave James a smart slap. It left his hand feeling a bit sore, but the sensation as it had walloped that splendid bottom was well worth it. He thought again of the picture of the knickerless tennis girl in his study bedroom which he and Oliver took turns at admiring under the sheets at night. He wondered, for the umpteenth time, what it would be like to smack her pert little bum.
"Ouch, I'm not looking forward to getting the slipper off you next term."
Simon asked whether his own jeans had dirt on them at the back. He turned and, as James had done, bent slightly.
"Yeah, there's a bit. Shall I see whether I can spank as hard as you?"
"OK, give me a whack".
Simon's own bottom was also of just the right proportions for corporal punishment. James felt a bit of a tingling sensation down his spine as he took aim and delivered commendably sharp slap.
"You're not going to be bad with the slipper yourself."
All dusted down, the boys headed down the road towards the cinema. They bought tickets for the back stalls, all the time looking around to make sure no one from the school was in sight. They chose seats right at the back and in the middle, where they would be as invisible as possible. They longed for the lights to dim as more and more people came into the cinema. At last they did and the film started.
It had been well worth it. The action scenes, both boys agreed as they made their way out of the cinema, were outstanding. They chatted animatedly as they headed back to their secret gap in the wall.
Simon went through first. He almost got stuck, but he managed to squeeze through all right. Then James started, head first, to wriggle through. He was half way through when he heard the voice.
"Dawson, I may not be able to see your face, but your posterior is all too familiar". It was Mr Leinster, a history master at the school.
James did not know what to do. Should he squeeze back out or continue into the school grounds? Mr Leinster made his decision for him.
"Now you're nearly through you'd better continue. Perhaps you would care to come and see me in my study in ten minutes."
"Yes sir", James sighed. "Oh well", he thought to himself, "I suppose the film was worth a whacking."
James held his finger to his mouth to warn Simon not to speak as he continued his wriggling and emerged into the wood. Once he was satisfied that the master was out of ear shot he whispered to Simon what had happened.
"Well, we'd better hurry up if we are going to get to Lenny's study in time".
"What do you mean, 'we'? He doesn't know you're with me and there's no reason why he should."
"Look Jim, there's no way I'm going to let you take this on your own. If you'd gone through first and I'd been caught, I know you'd have owned up. Anyway, from all I hear, Lenny's not too hard with the gym shoe."
James again tried to convince his friend not to own up. But to no avail. Ten minutes later both boys stood nervously outside Mr Leinster's study. Simon knocked.
"Come in Dawson."
Simon opened the door and walked in first.
"Oh, sorry Edmondson. I thought you were Dawson. How can I help you?"
"Dawson's here as well sir. I was with him this afternoon, only I'd got through before you saw."
Mr Leinster was impressed with the boy's honourable conduct.
"Very well, both of you come in".
They walked to the centre of the room. Mr Leinster was sitting behind his desk. They stood uncomfortably watching him and waiting for the telling off to start. But the master just sat there staring out of the window, lost in thought. An idea had just occurred to him. He had heard about Simon's belief that it would be wrong for him to be made a prefect if he had not had a prefect's beating. He thought the boy's concerns were foolish, but he was eager for him to be a prefect and, if humouring him in this was the way to achieve it, he was prepared to play his part. Finally he turned to the two miscreants.
"I'm not going to waste my breath telling you off. You both know exactly how many school rules you've broken this afternoon. Dawson, am I right in thinking that Reece-Jones is your dormitory prefect?"
"Yes sir".
"And you share with Reece-Jones don't you Edmondson?"
"Yes sir".
"Very well, you will go and find him, tell him exactly what you have been doing and say that I have asked him to deal with it. That will be all."
"Crikey Sime", James said as they came out into the corridor, "I'd thought we were bound to get six each."
"Me too. He's a bloody decent chap isn't he?"
"Sure is. Oliver's pretty hard, but four from him will be nothing like six from Lenny. Come on, let's go and tell him the news."
Oliver was in the study bedroom. James and Simon joined him. They told the whole story.
"So he really wants me to give you your slipperings?"
"That's right", said Simon, "at last I'm going to find out how good you are at it."
"OK, well I suppose we'd better do it at bed time. I'll deal with you just before lights out Jim and then I'll slipper Sime when I've finished all my dorms."
Simon had a better idea.
"Why don't you get Jim to come down here after your dorm rounds and then whack us both? After all, we were in it together so we really ought to be slippered together."
Oliver knew enough about Simon by now to realise that what his friend really wanted was to see James being slippered just before bed time. He didn't blame him. He agreed to Simon's suggestion.
Later that night Oliver started on his rounds. There were a couple of boys in his first form dormitory who had been getting rather too pleased with themselves and he was delighted to catch them ragging as he walked in. Justice was swiftly and expertly administered. Two eight year olds climbed into their beds with decidedly sore and red bottoms. There was no trouble in any of the other dorms. James's was last. Oliver stood by the door and waited for the boys to quieten down.
"I'm going to let you keep your lights on a little longer tonight. Dawson, you will come to my study now and when you return you can turn the lights off, without any talking."
James climbed out of bed and joined his friend. When they got to the study bedroom they found Simon already changed into his pyjamas. Oliver closed the door. There was a slightly uncomfortable moment. Then he spoke.
"Well, let's get it over with. Who's going to be first?"
"I will" said Simon and he stepped forward to the part of the room where he had seen so many other boys bending for their punishments. He was just about to bend over when, in an instant, he tugged at his pyjama cord and his trousers fell to the ground. "Oh dear, looks like I'm going to have to get it on the bare bum."
"Don't be silly Sime", said Oliver as he gazed admiringly at his friend's slim white bottom, "you know we're not allowed to whack bare".
"I don't mind, and I'm the one getting it. It's not as if thin pyjamas give any protection. It won't hurt any more, and you'll be able to see my bum changing colour".
Oliver did not need any more persuasion. He had often thought it would be interesting to see, at close quarters, a boy's bottom turning from white to pink to bright red and Simon's would certainly be worth studying.
"OK, Sime, bend over".
Simon took up the position so well known to schoolboys of the time. His legs were absolutely straight and the tips of his fingers were touching his toes. Oliver stepped forward and gently pulled his friend's pyjama top clear of his bottom. Then he stood back and looked again at the wonderfully curved cheeks. He glanced at the tennis girl picture and then looked back at Simon. Yes, this would be just like whacking her pretty little bottom. Finally, he embarked on the now familiar routine. He stepped forward and took aim. Simon felt the tickle of the slipper on his bottom. Then, looking between his legs, he saw Oliver take four steps back. He waited for the first giant stride and then closed his eyes tight and bit his lower lip. There was a rush of air as the slipper descended. Then the loud crack as it landed. "Bang centre" thought Simon to himself as he felt the wave of pain hit him.
Oliver watched in fascination as Simon's bottom visibly changed colour before his eyes. What he had not expected was that the first thing to happen was a white slipper shape mark appearing. Within seconds, it started to get pinker. He waited for about ten seconds and the mark was becoming almost red. James, too, was fascinated by the show. Both he and Oliver had, of course, seen slipperings from Mr Pecan in the showers, but they had never been this close and certainly they had never had such long pauses between the strokes. James gave his own bottom a gentle rub as he thought about his own fate.
Although he was in considerable pain already, Simon now realised that Oliver, even with a run up, did not yet have the power of a Nutty Pecan. This was certainly a punishment but, by now, Simon had had worse from masters. He knew he would be able to take this one without any problems.
Oliver took his four steps back. He waited another couple of seconds and then jumped forward. The slipper again crashed into the naked bottom. He had managed to hit exactly the same place. Again, strangely, he thought, its initial impact caused the pinkish reddish mark left by the first to turn white. But, very rapidly, it was pink and then a definite red colour. After ten seconds it was already scarlet. After two more strokes, applied with equal force, Simon's bottom was a splendidly bright scarlet. He gratefully stood up and rubbed his scorching bottom. He smiled at Oliver.
"Ace slippering Ol. It hurts like hell." As he bent again to pull up his trousers his attention was caught by the beginnings of a bulge at Oliver's flies. He chuckled to himself as he wondered whether something would be popping out soon.
James now stepped forward. As he carefully placed his feet the regulation six inches apart he, too, undid his pyjama trousers and let them fall to the floor. This was exactly what Simon had hoped would happen. He had been happy to let his friends watch his bottom colouring up, but what he had really wanted was to see James getting it naked, and now the younger boy was obliging him.
Oliver and Simon had previously agreed, after another of James's beatings, that the boy's bottom was remarkably like the tennis girl's. Maybe it was not quite so protuberant. It was undoubtedly a little slimmer. But the proportions were, on the whole, similar. Oliver was tempted to wait a little longer, just looking at his target, but he could feel that his excitement would soon become all too obvious to his friends. He quickly took aim, walked back and leapt forwards. Crash. The first stroke had landed.
James had been slippered by Oliver four times already and he knew exactly what to expect. Even so, he still marvelled at how much harder Oliver was than the other prefects who had beaten him in his time at the school. The initial pain of the first stroke still came as a shock, but he quickly told himself that he had had worse from Mr Pecan and Mr Trumpington. He didn't have to wait long for the second stroke. That was unusual, he thought. But then he remembered how, despite knowing he was about to be in pain himself, he had started to become slightly aroused during Simon's beating. He wondered whether Oliver was having the same trouble.
James's four were soon over. His bottom was the same bright scarlet colour as Simon's. He stood and rubbed hard. He took a surreptitious glance at Oliver's flies. Yes, his friend certainly did have the same problem. He looked at Simon. "This is excellent", he thought, as he noticed a similar bulge, "perhaps I'm not as peculiar as I had thought".
"OK Jim", said Oliver, "I think you'd better get back to the dorm. Are you still on for a game of fives tomorrow".
"I certainly am. See you after breakfast".
Simon and Oliver climbed into their beds.
"Wasn't Jim just the greatest?" whispered Simon. "I bet you were imagining that it was the tennis girl you were giving it to."
"You were pretty good yourself you know Sime. I had to try my hardest not to think of her bum going red like yours was while I was slippering you."
"Yeah, I noticed something about to pop out to greet us. Do you want to keep the lights on for a while? I can pull my bed clothes down and turn over on my left side while I do it and that'll give you a good view of my bum."
"You're a star, Sime. I'm going to try to keep it going for as long as possible, but I'm pretty far gone already."
Then they stopped talking and concentrated on the night's exercise. When, ten minutes later, they began to drift off to sleep they were both in a state of absolute contentment. Upstairs in his dormitory James also had a smile on his face as his bed springs stopped squeaking.