I dont know about you dear reader, but one of the joys of Schoolmaster-Pupil role-play is that the boy perpetually digs himself an even deeper hole than that which he is already in .... and ends up being spanked all the harder for it, whilst all the time worrying that his disorderly conduct or unsatisfactory work will either be immediately reported to his Father Step-Father [or noted in his Termly Report] which will result in him receiving a further spanking at home!
I shall always remember, for example, one day when a certain Mr Gibson [later my Craft, Design & Technology Master] was away and a young student teacher [Mr Dormand] took his class in his absence. Halfway through the lesson one boy farted loudly and the whole class which, hitherto, had been working in silence (under threat of being reported to Gibbo if we misbehaved) erupted in hysterics. Mr D was furious and demanded that the class stop laughing immediately, and warned "the phantom farter" that if he disrupted the class again he would be sent to Mr Gibson on his return. Silence resumed and the class returned to their work. Ten minutes or so later it happened again, only this time the phantom farter farted louder than ever, as if it was an intentional fanfare of defiance! Once more the whole class erupted in hysterics. Boy, was Mr D angry! He ordered the class to stop laughing and the phantom farter to stand outside in the corridor with his face towards the wall and his hands behind his head. No-one dared to move as Mr D surveyed the class anxiously trying to identify the culprit and repeated his order to the phantom farter to stand outside the workshop. A couple of minutes later the phantom farter was poked in the back by the class clown sitting behind him who impersonated Mr Ds orders. Mr D immediately asked the poked boy if he was indeed the phantom father; at first the boy denied it, but later admitted it as on being ordered to stand up when replying he lost his nerve, blushed loudly with guilt and felt unable to conceal the truth any longer. The boy attempted to explain he had not farted deliberately but Mr D would not believe him and angrily told the boy to stop answering him back and stand outside as he had been ordered.
Outside in the corridor the boy waited nervously as he overheard Mr D instruct the class to carry on with their work whilst he dealt with the "insolent little bastard" outside. The language and tone of Mr D's voice reminded him very much of Mr Gibson, with whom he was frequently locked in dispute over unsatisfactory work, and he began to sweat with fear of being sent to Gibbo for a spanking. When Mr D joined the boy in the corridor he sensed as much and told the boy "You like making noises out of your backside do you boy?! Lets see if your arse can play a different tune during and after a visit to Mr Gibson"!
The nervous boy again began to plead for clemency but Mr D would hear none of it and ordered the boy to drop his trousers and underpants. The boy was gob-smacked: surely to God Mr D was not proposing to spank him, let alone bare and there & then, he thought: Mr Dormand was only a student teacher after all! The boy protested. "Do it now" Mr D ordered, as he slapped the boy hard across his face. Realising that Mr D meant business, the boy nervously unfastened his trousers and allowed them to drop to his ankles. "Underwear as well" Mr D ordered, pulling the elasticated waistband of the boys underpants out at the front and glancing inside to look at the boys _c_o_c_k_: it was rock-hard with fear! "Come along now, I havent got all day" he snapped, releasing the waistband of the boys briefs as he noticed a negligible urine stain inside them .... no doubt where the boy had dribbled after urinating earlier in the day. Dormand could feel himself becoming aroused as he inwardly schemed up ways to ensure the boy received the spanking of his life and contemplated spanking the boy himself .... for wearing unclean underwear, if nothing else, he thought! The boy reluctantly pulled his underpants down, feeling more like a five year-old rather than a fifteen year-old, and attempted to cover his genitals with his hands to maintain his dignity. "Stop playing with yourself" Mr D ordered, "and put your hands back behind your head"! The boy protested he was not. "Dont answer me back" Mr D snapped, as he slapped the boy across the face a second time harder than before, momentarily knocking the boy off-balance before the boy regathered his posture and interlocked his hands behind his head, causing his shirt to rise above his navel, thus giving Mr D an unobstructed view of his boyhood. Mr D glanced at the boys erect member and balls, and smiled. "This is a CDT lesson not a music lesson" he told the anxious boy, "I dont expect to hear wind instruments being played in class but if you would like some extra lessons in bl! owing the horn you can report to me before or after school and I will teach you to blow mine! In the meantime, you will report to Mr Gibson when he returns at lunchtime and advise him you not only farted in class and disrupted the class not just once, but twice within a period of ten to fifteen minutes, but you also lied to me, answered me back, refused to do what I told you to do and, to top it all, you decided to play with yourself in the corridor instead of keeping your hands firmly behind your head"!
The boy was mortified at how a simple thing like farting in class could have been blown-up out of all proportion and was clearly in a quandary: should he report to Mr D before or after school and give him a blow-job or report to Gibbo for a spanking. Although the boy had privately accepted his own homo_s_e_x_uality, coming as he did from a strict Presbyterian family he was still _s_e_x_ually inexperienced and feared that, if he proved to be as inept at blowing Mr Ds horn as he was at CDT, Mr D may resort to screwing him. "Make sure you suck me dry as what you dont take down your throat I sure as Hell will pump up your arse boy" he recalled one prison daddy saying to his son in a drama-documentary he had secretly watched about a boys reformatory in America, and he was not prepared for that.
"Whilst you are thinking over my offer of extra-curricular activities, just remember to find me after Mr Gibson has retuned your butt so I can examine his handiwork for myself and see if it is up to the same standard as when he spanked me six or seven years ago! Some men get better as they become older, others get worse, and I would hate to see a pretty boy like you deprived of a similar spanking to that which Gibbo gave me when I was your age. If hes no longer up to scratch I will give you a spanking of my own", Mr D told the boy, "Now pull your things back up and get back inside the classroom and settle down or I will personally guarantee you wont be able to sit down for a month of Sundays! I will see you .... and you and you" he said briefly fondling the boys arse and _c_o_c_k_ "later"!
The boy pulled up his underpants and trousers, again unsuccessfully proffered Mr D his apologies in the naοve hope that he would be spared a spanking before re-entering the workshop and resuming his seat under Mr Ds all-seeing eye; he found Mr Gibson at lunchtime and explained to him that Mr D had told him to report to him for "misbehaving in class" although did not go into details as to what had happened.
"So I hear" Mr Gibson said firmly, "report to me after school in your gym kit .... you will receive twelve strokes with the cane"!
"Twelve" the boy protested, conscious that the Headmaster or, in his absence or incapacity, the Deputy Head only ever gave boys a maximum of six strokes for offences far more serious than breaking wind in class. "Please Sir, not twelve Sir .... I said I was sorry. I didnt mean to fart in class .... honestly Sir"!
"Nor I suppose did you mean to disrupt the class a second time, lie to Mr D, answer Mr D back, refuse to do what he told you or play with yourself in the corridor instead of putting your hands behind your head", Mr Gibson said sternly. It was clear to the boy that Mr D had told Gibbo everything or at least most things that had happened. "It is just as well you did not attempt to jack-off in front of me or I would give you another six strokes on top of the two sixes I am going to give you: one six on behalf of Mr Dormand and a second six from me for each of the six offences you have committed. When you look at it that way, I think Im being more than lenient with you dont you .... particularly as your practical work still leaves a lot to be desired?! Its just as well Mr Dormand wants to survey the damage himself afterwards I understand, as otherwise I may have been tempted to give you a few more strokes for unsatisfactory work as well over and above that which you will receive for your disorderly conduct .... and you have the audacity to question my decision to only give you two sixes .... with a bit of luck Mr D may still want to spank you himself"!
For the remainder of the day the boy was ill with worry. After his last lesson of the day he excused himself from walking home with his best school-friend and quickly proceeded to the Boys Changing Room near the Gym where he had been spanked many times before by his Games Master for being incompetent at P. E. and waited until everyone had gone before changing into his gym kit. Leaving his school uniform and satchel in the Changing Room he proceeded, without further delay, to Mr Gibsons workshop where Mr Gibson was waiting for him. Once inside the workshop, after a brief interrogation as to what had kept him, the boy was ordered to strip naked and bend over Mr Gibsons knee. After a "warm-up exercise" (hand-spanking across his arse) the boy was ordered to bend over Mr Gibsons desk and spread his legs wide apart for twelve blistering strokes of the cane: eight across his arse and four across the back of his thighs, just below where the hem of his gym shorts ended, with each stroke being hard enough to mark but not break the boys skin. The boy was soon in tears and begging Mr Gibson to stop, but the more he cried the harder Mr Gibson caned him, pausing in-between strokes to pucker the boys butt-hole with the tip of the cane to allow the boy to re-gather his composure and remind the boy of his own suppressed _s_e_x_uality. After the twelfth stroke the boy was made to stand in the corner of the workshop keeping his legs spread apart, his hands interlocked behind his head and elbows behind his shoulders, with his nose and toes pressed firmly against the wall for approximately three-quarters of an hour, before he was allowed to get dressed and vacate the room, hoping no-one would see him (and the marks on his legs below the hem of his shorts) as he made his way back to the Boys Changing Room.
Inside the Changing Room the boy peeled down his shorts to look at his butt and the back of his thighs in the mirrored wall opposite the communal shower stall, before turning to his clothes on an adjacent bench. As he lifted his shirt off the coat-hook above his neatly-folded trousers and underpants on the bench below he spotted a hand-written note from Mr D pinned to his underwear which read "Gone home Pretty Boy: Report to me here at 8.15am tomorrow morning .... and make sure your underwear is clean this time or else! J. Dormand"! As he leaned over to pick-up his underwear his butt-hole became taut and he felt a sharp pain where the tip of the cane had touched him an hour or so earlier, prompting him to speculate on how much more uncomfortable it would be to be screwed either by a prison daddys or Mr Ds _c_o_c_k_! On kicking off his shorts and examining his underwear, the boy noticed the urine stain at the front of (and a small skid-mark inside) his undies from where he had farted earlier in the day, and prayed to God that his impending appointment with Mr D would not prove as traumatic as the last hour-and-a-half with Mr Gibson.
Who was this boy? None other than one of my closest school-friends Dave. Unfortunately for me the worst punishment I ever received from Gibbo was two blistering swats with a wooden paddle across the palm of each hand and two strokes with the cane across the seat of my trousers. The latter hurt like Hell even with trousers and underwear covering my butt and was still given hard enough to leave two distinct welts across my arse which I noticed later in the day when I got home from school and had a shower. It was that which prompted me, on one occasion, to ask Dave whether Gibbo had ever caned him and for him in turn to share the story I have now told you, although he never did tell me what happened when he saw Mr D the following morning. As Im already in a relationship I wouldnt really want to venture beyond what took place between Mr Gibson and Dave that fateful afternoon, but share his story with you in the hope that it will prompt you [as my Housemaster] to reprimand me as Gibbo did Dave all those years ago! No wonder it is said that "schooldays are the best days of ones life"!!!
Hope to hear from you soon.