The week went by, and although Glastonbury had slippered Gallagher a few times and even given him a couple of strokes of the cane, he hadn't had a chance to punish Macfarlane, his gorgeous little blonde. He really wanted to put him over his knee, bare bottom, but had never got the chance. There hadn't even been any _s_e_x_ual contact since the orgasmic blow job the lad had given him.

Things changed that Sunday afternoon. Glastonbury was hosting some of his mates for afternoon tea before Chapel, and Macfarlane was waiting on them. It was nothing special, just toast and jam, and Macfarlane would shuttle between the toaster, side table and the party taking orders and preparing them. The party was hungry, so Macfarlane was kept busy. Everything was done in good humour; some of the prefects even bantered with the fag.

"Mac., another couple of toast with blackcurrant jam, there's a good chap" called out Blythe, one of Glastonbury's best friends. Macfarlane jokingly rolled his eyes heavenwards, shook his head and went to the toaster. Glassers was not best amused. It was not a fag's place to mock his master or his friends. Macfarlane returned with the toast.

"Macfarlane", began Glassers, "Do you wish to be relieved of this, oh, so onerous duty?"

"N-n-no, Glastonbury" The boy realised he had gone too far.

"Then why the song and dance simply because Blythe here asked for more toast? Nothing wrong in that, is there?"

"No Glastonbury". Now the boy was studying the pattern on the carpet, anxious not to make contact with his master's steely glare.

"Then I presume you were being impudent and cheeky, is that it, hmm?"

"Y-y-yes, Glastonbury."

"In that case, you will be punished. Here. Now, in front of the gentleman you were impudent to, and the others for good measure. Go and fetch my cane."

Macfarlane walked slowly over to the bookcase, and was rewarded for his slowness by a sharp slap on the bottom from Glassers as he passed by. Macfarlane returned with the fated implement. The other prefects watched with amusement and pleasure. It was not often they had the pleasure of witnessing a beating. The fag was summoned to stand in the middle of the party circle.

"I treat this as a most grave offence. You have let me down and embarrassed me in front of my friends" (he knew this was a lie, but it would scare the little twit anyway), "so it will be dealt with severely. You will receive four strokes from me on your underpants, and then two more from Blythe on your bare backside. If you're in agreement, Blythy?"

"Absolutely" replied his friend. He certainly wasn't going to turn this opportunity down!"

Macfarlane was told to drop his shorts. He undid the double clasp, pulled down the fly zip and let the grey shorts fall to his feet. He was then made to bend over, touching his toes, his pert bottom, clad in taut white briefs, in full view of the assembled party.

"Count the strokes, Macfarlane."

Wshhh CRACK. "One".

Wshhh CRACK. "T-two".

Wshhh CRACK. "Threeeee!". He was in pain now.

Wshhh CRACK. "FOUR!". The boy was fighting back the tears.

"Stand up". The red-faced boy straightened up stiffly. Glassers went up right behind him and peeled down the boy's pants, revealing a swollen, reddened backside. He handed the cane to Blythe. "Down" he commanded. Mac bent down again, slowly.

Blythe took aim. He had never beaten anyone with a cane before, though he had been on the receiving end a few times. It was very different from the slipper he used regularly on his own fag, so much longer and unwieldy. He took a couple of preparatory swipes, and then...

Wshhh CRACK. "Five". The boy was crying freely. Blythe looked nervously at Glassers, who motioned him to finish the job.

Wshhh CRACK. "Six!"

"Up". Very tentatively Macfarlane got up, shaking slightly. His bottom was a mess of red and purple, but he wasn't bleeding.

"Go and wait in my bedroom. I'll be there once this is over." With that the fag pulled up his pants and shorts and hobbled off. Glassers opened the door and bellowed out Gallagher's name, and the boy came running, and he finished off serving the party, increasingly aware of what had just happened.

"Jolly good thrashing, Glassers."

"Yes, great bum. Had him yet?"

"Wasn't bare bum a bit much for him? He looked pretty beaten to me!" The party laughed at this semi-witticism. Soon Glassers took his leave, and went to the bedroom, where he found Macfarlane standing at the window, crying.

Glastonbury went up to him, and put one hand on his shoulder, and one hand ruffled the boy's gorgeous blonde hair.

"What a twit you are, my dear" he began, "it was all going so well and you had to spoil it. Well, you've been punished so you're forgiven".

The fag turned around. "I-I'm so sorry I let you down Glastonbury. I-I'm so sorry!" He broke down in tears again, and flung himself in his master's arms.

"There, there, it's alright. Done and forgotten, eh? Now let's see if we can ease the pain on your botty, hmm? Jump up on the bed there, there's a good boy. Shoes off first, mind."

The fag slipped off his shoes and gingerly climbed onto his master's bed, and lay on his front. It wouldn't be the last time, either. Glassers sat on the bed, and reaching under the boy, undid his shorts and pulled them down and right off. He did the same with the underpants, brushing his hand against the boy's stiffening willy as he moved his hands down. He picked up some lotion next to the bed, and started gently rubbing it into his fag's wealed bottom. At first the boy flinched, but then he settled as the sensation grew ever more pleasant. Glassers started massaging nearer the boy's anus, and started gently poking his greased finger up the hole. It was fairly relaxed – but then Glassers had been pretty sure the boy had been taken before.

Glastonbury moved over until he was straddling Macfarlane, and undid his trousers. He was slightly worried in case Mac made any noise – his friends were still having tea next door. What the hell, he thought, I'm only flesh and blood.

And with that he gently lowered his _d_i_c_k_ into his fag's bum, exerting a little pressure to put it in all the way. He then starting the movements, in and out, in and out. Then to his amazement, Macfarlane started making opposite movements, maximising his master's pleasure! What a little pro, thought Glastonbury, as he pulled out and lay on the bed, puffed out. Almost predictably, Macfarlane straight way scampered down to his master's _c_o_c_k_ and took it in his mouth, leaving Glassers to toussle his hair and feel the enjoyment of yet another orgasm...

to be continued.....