"You boy" Mr Turner bellowed at fourteen year-old Scott Lower in the ground floor corridor of the Science Block.
"Me Sir", Scott asked nervously.
"Yes, you boy! I cant see anyone else round here, can you"?
Scott looked all around him. There was no-one else in sight. "No Sir" he replied sheepishly.
"What are you doing indoors"?!
"Im waiting for my next lesson Sir".
"Very funny boy; I will deal with you after school", Mr Turner snapped. "Report to my room immediately after the final bell this afternoon"!
"What for Sir", Scott asked innocently.
"You know very well what for", Mr Turner said angrily. "The Headmaster made it quite clear in House Assembly the week before last that, ever since the outbreak of graffiti in the boys toilets, all boys - other than those in the Sixth Form - are expected to play or wait outside during their morning break-time and at lunch-time unless they are otherwise taking lunch in the dining hall or the weather is inclement when they may wait inside the Main Hall at the discretion – and under the supervision – of the senior duty-master on-duty in the Main Building. It may be chilly outdoors but it certainly is not inclement and, in any event, you have no business roaming the corridors of the Science Block".
"Im sorry Sir; I didnt know Sir; I only started here last week", Scott replied truthfully.
"Dont give me that crap boy" Mr Turner snapped as he walked over towards Scott. Taking hold of Scott by his right earlobe, he continued "Youre in a big enough hole already without burying yourself by telling me porky pies! I will see you in my room after school"! He dragged Scott to the entrance exit to the Science Block and unbolted the swing door before pushing it open and Young Scott through the open doorway. "Outside now you insolent little bastard" he snapped, before bolting the door after him, leaving Scott bewildered and confused as to whom and where he should report after school.
Outside in the cold Scott quietly cursed his father for changing jobs which necessitated Scott moving house and changing schools. Apart from feeling lonely in leaving behind life-long friends at his former school, there was something about his new school he disliked, other than the hideous school uniform. The uniform was bad enough he thought: the white shirt and House tie were passable, but the bottle-green blazer and the short grey shorts in particular were vile; surely to God, he thought, only primary schoolboys had to wear shorts going to coming from – and all the time they were either in, or representing - the school, yet at his new school all boys (in the First, Second and Third Years) were required to wear shorts as part of their uniform throughout the school year; even at primary school he was allowed to wear long trousers in cold or wet weather, a luxury denied to him at his new school.
Scott had previously attended a co-educational school where all boys wore long trousers and where he was widely regarded as a conscientious well-behaved pupil, but now felt like a condemned man sentenced to life imprisonment at his new [all-boys] school. He glanced down at the ground and aimlessly kicked an empty lemonade can in disgust, before sitting down, alone, underneath the covered walkway of the nearby Craft Block to count his dinner money and consider whether he should spend it at the tuck-shop rather than on the "food" they prepared in the school kitchen: three bars of milk chocolate were certainly more appetising than the greasy burgers sausages, chips and beans and the equally-revolting apple crumble and lumpy custard which masqueraded as "dinner" at his new school.
Apart from closing the school for subjecting him to hypothermia, the place should be closed for attempted food-poisoning, Scott thought; in comparison to the meals prepared at his old school, the school dinners at his new school tasted so awful that he wouldnt even give them to his next door neighbours Alsatian for fear of being accused of trying to kill the poor dog! He hated his new school: everything about it – the rules (particularly one requiring boys to stand each time a master entered a room, as though they were royalty), the teachers (who seemed full of their own self-importance and were certainly more austere than in his former school), the extra homework he had to do (copying-up notes in virtually all subjects from lessons he had missed, with starting at his new school seven weeks into the Autumn Term), the so-called "food" and particularly the uniform was _s_h_i_t_! Even the other boys, with the possible exception of Tom Jenkins (the boy assigned to act as his mentor for the first month or so), were unfriendly – and nobody else liked Jenkins because he came from a well-heeled family and was useless at games, which obviously made him a "bum-boy" in the eyes of his peers.
"Dont kick that can boy; it may hit someone or something and cause an accident! Pick it up and put it in the bin", bellowed the duty-master manning the playground outside the Science and Craft Blocks. Scott looked up and, on spotting an angry-looking, grey-haired, ruddy-faced and obese man with gold-framed spectacles staring at him, walked miserably over to where the can had landed (close to where the man was standing) to pick it up; as he bent over to do so, the man slapped him hard across the back of the head and pulled Scott up by his right earlobe. "Youre new here arent you boy" he enquired roughly.
"Yes Sir" Scott answered nervously. The duty-master twisted his earlobe. "Arrrh ..... Arrrh Sir..... Please Sir, Let go of me .... Arrrh ..... that hurts ..... Arrrh", he yelped.
"Quiet boy", the man said heartlessly. "I thought I hadnt seen you before", he continued, "a. word of warning New Boy, if I catch you kicking a can again Ill kick your arse; got it"?
"Yes Sir .... sorry Sir", Scott replied.
"Is that your can", the duty-master asked, maintaining his grip on Scotts twisted ear.
"No Sir ..... Arrrh ..... I always put my litter in the bin".
"Do you indeed?! Usually I find its the same boys who kick litter who drop it in the first place .... are you sure its not yours"?
"Y.... Y.... Yes Sir".
"Very well, put it in the bin, and come back here", the duty-master ordered as he let go of Scotts ear. Scott breathed a sigh of relief and started to walk over to the bin on the opposite side of the playground. "Run, _d_a_m_n_ you; run, you little bastard" the duty-master shouted after him as he fixed his eyes on Scott and inwardly wished he had Scotts slim athletic frame in place of the anatomy of an elephant! Scott ran to the bin, deposited the can, and ran back to the duty-master. "Whats your name boy" the man asked.
"Scott Lower" the boy replied.
"Whose tutor group are you in" asked the duty-master.
"I dont know what you mean Sir" Scott replied nervously.
"Who is your form master, you stupid boy" snapped the duty-master impatiently.
"Mr Wylam, Sir".
"And what year are you in"?
"The third year Sir".
"And which House are you in"?
"Neville House Sir".
"So your tutor group is", the man asked.
"Wy-3-N or is it N-3-Wy", answered Scott.
"N-3-Wy" exclaimed the duty-master as he slapped Scott hard across the back of his head a second time, harder than before. "Jesus Christ boy, did they not teach you anything at your old school, or are you trying to kid me that it was such a slum you neither had houses nor literate and numerate teachers to teach orrible little bastards like you?! Repeat after me, N-3-Wy".
"N-3-Wy" Scott repeated.
"And what do you think N-3-Wy means", the man asked.
"I suppose N stands for Neville House, 3 for being in the Third Year, and Wy is an initial for Mr Wylam".
The duty-master slapped Scott across the back of his head a third time; by now, Scotts head was starting to throb. "I suppose you could be right, but I presume English is not your strongest subject is it boy? I suppose N stands for Neville House, indeed" he mocked, "you should say I presume N stands for Neville House, 3 for Year Three, etc, etc"!
"Thats what I meant to say" Scott protested.
"Then say it! _d_a_m_n_ you boy" the duty-master snapped as he struck Scott across the back of his head a fourth time, this time so hard that Scott lost his balance and almost fell over, but without giving Scott time to answer before continuing "is it any wonder that this place is going to the dogs when we admit boys who are incapable of expressing themselves correctly and who spend all their time kicking empty drinks cans or footballs around and putting other people and property at risk? Let me see if you are any better at expressing yourself in writing; I shall expect a 2,000 word essay from you by eight oclock tomorrow morning on the subject of disposing of litter safely and correctly or you will spend the remainder of your morning breaks and lunch-hours this week and next, picking up litter after I have first put you over my knee; got it"?
"Please Sir, not more written work to do Sir; .... I only started here last week and Ive got enough written work to do copying up notes in my other subjects for the lessons Ive missed at the beginning of term .... as well as an hour or twos regular homework each night Sir"!
"Quiet boy or I shall expect five thousand words, not two thousand" replied the duty-master heartlessly. "You will find me in the staff room sometime between quarter-to-eight and eight oclock tomorrow morning, and dont be late or else! I shall expect your essay to be in your best handwriting with no grammatical or spelling mistakes or I will make you re-write it after school in detention tomorrow night! Now bugger off you insolent little sod"!
Scott turned and walked away, feeling angrier and more alone than ever. "Trust father to send me to this dump", he thought!
"There you are Lower" called Jenkins, emerging from nowhere, "Where the Hell have you been" he asked, slapping the new boy on the back and digging out an apple from his satchel. "Fancy an apple" he asked, offering it to Scott, "Ive got another. Theyre off my tree at home, and rather nice even if I do say so myself"?
"No thanks Jenkins" replied Scott glumly.
"Whats up with you" Jenkins asked, "missing your bird"?
"I feel Im doing bird in this joint" Lower replied dolefully, "we must be the only school in the country where boys our age still have to wear _f_u_c_k_ing shorts as part of our uniform .... as if it isnt bad enough having to wear them for P. E! Even in primary school one was allowed to wear long trousers on cold days like this! Anyone would think we were in borstal"!
"Cheer up Old Beam" replied Jenkins cheerfully, "only another four-and-a-half hours to go and its home-time! If it wasnt for those bastards who keep writing on the walls of the boys toilets we wouldnt be stuck out here in the freezing cold .... I bet its the bloody prefects in the Sixth Form who are doing it anyway when were either in class or stuck out here – or even Mr Turner himself – so they can kick us out in the cold! Anyway, would you like a lift home after school? My Mum is picking me up or you can even come back to my place for tea if you like, and either my Mum or Dad will drop you back home later"?!
"I would but Ive got something Ive got to do this evening; another time perhaps", said Scott.
"Sure", replied Jenkins., "youre welcome anytime"!
The bell sounded to mark the end of the morning break. Both Scott and Jenkins walked back towards the Science Block. "Who is this Mr Turner" Scott asked.
"Youve probably seen him around; hes in his mid-to-late thirties, about six feet tall with dark brown hair in a fringe and silver-rimmed glasses, and usually wears a fawn-coloured overcoat similar to Arkwright in Open All Hours, brown or grey flannel trousers and brown Hush Puppies".
Jenkins description fitted the master who had pushed him outdoors approximately ten minutes earlier. "Was he on break-duty inside the Science Block this morning" Scott asked.
"Thats him .... once seen, never forgotten; hes as boring as he is lazy! If you ever get him for science, all he does is make you copy out chunks of notes from text-books in silence because hes too lazy to teach, and no doubt too busy recovering from his extra-curricular activity either in the changing room or the boys toilets"!
"What do you mean" asked Scott naively.
"Put it this way" replied Jenkins, "he always volunteers to do morning break and lunch-hour duty so he can patrol the corridors and inspect the meat on offer in the boys changing rooms and toilets, claiming that hes just checking that no-one is writing on the walls"!
"Youve lost me" exclaimed Scott, "what do you mean, inspect the meat on offer"?
"What do you think I mean? The mans a pervert .... he strolls into the changing rooms and toilets like a lord would inside his manor, to eye-up each boys _c_o_c_k_ as he urinates and keep behind any boy he fancies so he can play with him once the other boys have buggered off. He did it to me once: _f_u_c_k_ing pervert that he is! I was in the boys toilets one lunch-hour and about to have a pee when he came in, claiming he was checking that no-one was scribbling on the wall, when he started glancing at my _c_o_c_k_. It made me feel so on edge I just froze and couldnt pee, so he accused me of making up excuses to stay indoors or pretending I wanted to pee so I could write on the walls once everyone else had gone".
"Then what happened"?
"Not a lot initially. When the other boys were around and standing at the other urinals peeing next to me, all he did was slap me hard across the back of my head and order me to pee. When I couldnt, he angrily grabbed my _c_o_c_k_ – there and then in front of everyone - and kept pulling at it as he told me to pee immediately or he would tell the Head that he caught me writing on the walls which would almost certainly result in me being caned or suspended. I was petrified – not that I had anything to be afraid of as I hadnt written anything on the walls – but even so my Dad would kill me if I was caned, let alone suspended. I became so tense that I couldnt pee, so he began smacking the back of my thighs really hard with his right hand as he continued to pump my _c_o_c_k_ with his left hand, all the time he kept on and on at me to pee or off to the Head I would go! It was so embarrassing having him pulling at my _c_o_c_k_ in front of everyone, which is why everyone now says Im an arse-bandit, bum-boy, gay- you name it - when Im not!
"Anyhow, once everyone else had left, he temporarily let go of me before kicking open the cubicle doors to make sure no-one else was around having a dump on the loo before kicking the toilet door leading to the corridor closed, putting a mop under the door handle so it couldnt be opened from the outside and continuing to pump my _c_o_c_k_ and fondle my balls. Eventually, instead of peeing, I ended up ejaculating everywhere: all over the urinal I was standing, the adjoining wall and his hand. He then had the audacity to lecture me that, unless I learnt where to deposit my spunk, I would never pass my O and A levels. I stupidly asked him what O and A levels have got to do with ejaculating and he said "O is for Oral _s_e_x_ and A is for Anal _s_e_x_: you need to be able to give and receive a blow-job to pass your O-level, and both _f_u_c_k_ another boy and be _f_u_c_k_ed by a man, preferably me, to pass your A-level! In the meantime little boy, I am going to spank you for making a mess everywhere"!!!
"Before I could say anything else he yanked my shorts and underpants down to my ankles, put his foot up on a nearby urinal and pushed me over his knee before soundly hand-spanking my arse after finger-_f_u_c_k_ing my butt. Physics is all about movement and force he told me: movement he said raising his strong right hand and force he said raining it down on my arse. Again and again he spanked me! Boy did his hand hurt; it felt more like a paddle than the palm of a mans hand! He must have spanked me for a good ten minutes before he finally guided my hand behind my back, across my red hot and desperately sore arse, and onto his crotch. Id like to demonstrate to you how my tool can move .... he said forcing me to stroke his trouser-covered crotch " .... and force its way into here sometime" he chuckled puckering my anus with his finger. I thought for one awful moment he was going to _f_u_c_k_ me as I could feel his _c_o_c_k_ was rock-hard underneath his trousers".
"And did he", asked Scott.
"Thankfully not" replied Jenkins, "although he did make me suck him off. Dont anyone ever tell you that whenever a solid becomes a liquid it is known as evaporation he told me, as when a mans solid member spills its love-seed down a boys throat or up another mans arse it is known as applied ejaculation he told me. Evaporation may or may not be a law of physics but applied ejaculation between two males, particularly between an older man and a younger boy is body chemistry at its best, according to him that is! Stay clear of Turner; hes a ....". Jenkins looked up just in time as they were entering the Science Block to see Mr Turner carefully watching as each boy made his way into the warm building and stopped himself from saying what was, by now, axiomatic to Scott. As they walked past him, Mr Turner smacked the back of Scotts right thigh, causing Scott to momentarily turn his head to face his abuser.
"Nice legs", Mr Turner smirked, "it makes my day to see a pretty boy in shorts"!
Scott turned his head back in the opposite direction and made his way to his biology lesson with Jenkins. "_f_u_c_k_ing pervert" he muttered under his breath.
"You said it" Jenkins replied.
Inside the Biology laboratory, Scott asked Jenkins "who was the other master on-duty in the playground".
"You mean the fat bastard with the grey hair and gold-framed glasses"?
"Yeah".
"Mr Ashurst .... hes Head of the Maths Department, and thinks himself as a bit of a know-all. You dont want to get on the wrong side of him either as hes a bit of a spankophile as well, and very strict. If your work isnt neat enough he makes you do it again after school and again as extra homework, after hes first put you in after-school detention. He also expects you to drop everything for him; if he gives you homework to do – even when youre not scheduled to have Maths homework - he expects you to hand it in to him by lunch-time the following day and for you to finish the mountain of class-work he sets you to do in his lesson or, again, he puts you in after-school detention. If you get less than 70% in any test he sets you to do, or he gives you less than a B in your termly report to say how well youre doing – or if your work is generally untidy and or you forget your geometry set or calculator, – he also puts you in after-school detention. gives you more work to do. Furthermore, whilst most after-school detentions last an hour, his always last two hours, after which the fat bastard will usually spank you before you go home"!
"Does he spank bare as well"?
"I dont know for sure but I think so .... hes never spanked me, though I know he quite likes to paddle his victims with a table tennis bat which, I know from experience, hurts. My scoutmaster paddled me with a table tennis bat once and it turned my butt the colour of the paddle itself, even though he paddled me over my trousers, although Mr Turners hand is purportedly just as hard as Mr Ashursts table tennis bat"!
"Whereabouts is Mr Ashursts room", Scott asked.
"The room to the left of the room directly opposite where we have Maths with Mr Davidson" Jenkins answered, "youve probably heard the Fat Git shouting at someone before now, as his mouth is almost as large as his arse"!
"You can say that again" exclaimed Scott, "whereabouts is Mr Turners room"?
"Its the last room on your right at the end of this corridor .... Im telling you now, stay clear of it, especially after school when theres no-one around, other than the poor little _f_u_c_k_ers hes probably _f_u_c_k_ing in there if he hasnt already _f_u_c_k_ed them in the changing room or the toilets! All the time Turner is around there isnt a hope in Hell of First, Second and Third Years being allowed to wear long trousers; you heard what he said to you earlier! In fact I think it was him who single-handedly and successfully discouraged the Board of Governors from changing the uniform to allow us to wear long trousers, claiming that shorts were much healthier and more practical for growing boys like ourselves; in other words easier for him to put his hand up the hem of our shorts and masturbate us underneath our underpants", Jenkins replied. "Im telling you Lower, that bastard needs to be castrated and then put behind bars where he cant abuse anyone else"!
For the remainder of the day Scott had a hard job concentrating on his work thinking about his impending after-school appointment with Mr Turner. At lunch-time he actually vomitted with worry that he was going to be _f_u_c_k_ed.
Eventually home-time came and, after bidding farewell to Jenkins at 3.35pm, Scott swiftly made his way to Mr Turners room, anxious to avoid keeping him waiting, for fear that to do so would result in further punishment, and knocked nervously on Mr Turners door.
"Come" called Mr Turner from inside.
Scott opened the door and stepped inside, before closing the door after him. No-one else was present in the room. Scotts fear level increased as he approached Mr Turner who was sitting at his desk.
"You wanted to see me", Scott said timidly.
"Indeed I did" Mr Turner smirked as he eyed Scott up-and-down. Before him stood the model prepubescent youth, approximately 56" tall, an estimated weight of 8 to 8½ stone, with short dark brown hair, luscious eyelashes, brown eyes and the most awesome thighs emerging from the hem of his shorts; in his eyes, the very thought of allowing such a beautiful boy to wear long trousers was criminal and worthy of capital (not corporal) punishment! He stood up and walked round his laboratory dropping and closing all the Venetian blinds. Scotts _c_o_c_k_ became hard with fear and began to twitch against the inside of his underpants, as Mr Turner locked the door leading to the corridor and removed the key before bolting the door shut, so it could not be opened from the outside. Mr Turner sensed Scotts trepidation and, as he glanced at the bulge in Scotts shorts, mentally undressed the boy as he continued "Earlier today, you said you are new here didnt you boy"?
"Y....Y.....Yes Sir".
"Stop stammering boy" Mr Turner snapped angrily, before lowering his voice. "And what did you say your name was"?
"Lower, Scott Lower".
"Mmmm" Mr Turner said smiling, "my name is Turner, Mr Turner, but you may call me – or rather you will call me – Sir; understood"?
"Y.... Y.... Yes Sir".
"I wont tell you again; stop stammering or I will warm your backside", Mr Turner barked at him, "Now take off your clothes so I can have a good look at you".
"Sir", Scott protested.
"Do it now" Mr Turner ordered, "theres nothing to be embarrassed about; Ive seen a lot of naked boys in my time, nobody other than me is going to see you this afternoon and we are not going to be disturbed".
Scott hesitated for a couple of minutes before nervously removing his bottle-green blazer and hanging it on the back of a nearby chair. Next he removed his grey v-neck pullover before unfastening and removing his tie before placing them on top of his blazer. He hesitated before unbuttoning his shirt and removing it, revealing his hairless prepubescent chest.
"Nice, very nice" Mr Turner smirked, "now take off your shoes and socks. Hurry up now or youll catch cold .... speaking of which Im personally starting to feel rather warm so I think Ill turn the heating down a little".
It was already quite chilly in Mr Turners room and Scott had already began to shiver with the cold before Mr Turner turned his back towards him to turn down the thermostat on the wall before turning back to face Scott and gesture to him that he should remove his shoes and socks. Reluctantly, Scott removed his black lace-up shoes and knee-length grey socks; the linoleum was so cold that it felt like ice underneath Scotts feet.
"Come here boy" Mr Turner ordered. Again Scott hesitated which only caused Mr Turner to become angrier than ever. He walked over to Scott and, taking hold of him by his hair, pulled Scott forward. "Do as youre told little boy" he snapped before releasing Scott and pushing him backwards causing Scott to lose his balance, hit his lower back against a desk behind him and slump to the floor.
"Get up" Mr Turner ordered. Scott staggered back onto his feet. "Anymore fooling around and you will get this", Mr Turner snapped, as he picked up his metre-long wooden blackboard ruler, "now get your shorts off"!
Without saying anything Scott pulled down his shorts and stepped out of them before folding them and placing them on the chair next to his shirt, leaving him in just his underpants. "Spread your legs apart and put your hands behind your head with your elbows back behind your shoulders" Mr Turner ordered. Scott did so. Mr Turner glanced at the bulge in the front of Scotts underpants and rightly detected that the boy had a raging hard-on.
"Whats this" Mr Turner snapped angrily, as he squeezed Scotts _c_o_c_k_ through his underpants, "youre enjoying this arent you, you dirty little bastard"?!
"N.... N.... No Sir", replied Scott sheepishly.
"What did I tell you about stammering" Mr Turner bellowed at him, so loud that Scott almost wet himself with fright, before hand-slapping Scott hard across his face and adding in a lower voice, "You dirty, dirty, little bastard"!
Scott hung his head in shame noticing, as he did so, an even larger bulge underneath Mr Turners overcoat around his groins. Scotts thoughts went back to the conversation he had earlier in the day with Jenkins and automatically assumed that he was going to be _f_u_c_k_ed. Mr Turner unbuttoned and removed his overcoat before draping it over the back of his chair and returning to fondle Scotts genitals through his underpants.
"Did I tell you to become hard" Mr Turner growled at him. Scott did not answer; he did not know what to say. "Well, did I", Mr Turner asked impatiently.
"No Sir".
"Then who told you that you could get an erection you dirty little bastard", asked Mr Turner angrily.
"No-one Sir" Scott answered,. "Im sorry Sir ..... I cant help it .... honestly Sir", pleaded Scott.
"Oh shut-up boy" Mr Turner snapped, "Between us we shall just have to lose it wont we; you dirty, dirty little bastard! Take them off", he ordered letting go of Scotts underwear.
Now more afraid than ever, Scott reluctantly pulled down his underpants and stepped out of them. He picked them up and was about to put them with his shorts when Mr Turner snatched them out of his hand and tossed them over his shoulder onto the floor behind him. Scott was now stark bollock naked. "You dirty, dirty little bastard" Mr Turner continued, noticing that Scott had only just started to grow pubic hair, "how dare you get a hard-on in front of me! You are an insolent little _s_h_i_t_; what are you"?!
"An insolent little _s_h_i_t_, Sir", Scott replied, as he attempted to cover his _c_o_c_k_-and-balls to maintain his dignity.
"Stop jacking-off in front of me you _f_u_c_k_ing queer" Mr Turner snapped as he slapped Scott hard across the face a second time. "Put your hands back behind your head and your elbows back behind your shoulders, and repeat after me I am an insolent little _s_h_i_t_"!
Scott replaced his hands as he was told and cited "I am an insolent little _s_h_i_t_".
"Repeat after me, I am a dirty little bastard", Mr Turner snapped.
"I am a dirty little bastard" Scott repeated.
"Now repeat after me, I am a _f_u_c_k_ing queer", Mr Turner ordered.
"I am a _f_u_c_k_ing queer" Scott added. Mr Turner smiled menacingly as he cupped Scotts _c_o_c_k_-and-balls in his right hand and lifted Scott off the ground by his scrotum. He suspended Scott in mid-air for a few moments as he reflected on how he had successfully manipulated Scott to just where he wanted him: right under his thumb and too afraid to question his authority or report his abusive behaviour.
"Yeeeow ..... Arrrh ..... Arrrh ...... Please Sir, let go of me it hurts ..... Arrh", Scott yelped. Tears flowed from his eyes with the pain. Mr Turner let go of Scott and he fell to the floor. Scott attempted to assuage the piercing pain in his scrotum with his hands but Mr Turner had other ideas as he picked up his wooden blackboard ruler and struck it hard against the back of Scotts right thigh.
"I wont tell you again you insolent little _s_h_i_t_, stop jacking-off" Mr Turner snapped. Scott removed his hands, allowing Mr Turner to sharply tap the base of Scotts scrotum a couple of times with the ruler, hard enough to make Scott flinch and feel he wanted to vomit.
"Now then, let us deal with the reason why I want to see you, apart from allowing us to familiarise ourselves with each other" Mr Turner snarled, as he gently clasped his hand around the shaft of Scotts _c_o_c_k_ and began shaking it. "Nice to meet you Mr Sausage" he chuckled. He let go and ordered Scott to "turn around and bend over". Too afraid to say or do anything else, Scott did as he was told, and felt a sharp poke to his anus as Mr Turner fingered his virgin butthole. "Nice to meet you too pretty pussy" Mr Turner continued, "looks like you may need my help to stretch you a little, sometime puss-puss, although you may be a bit too young to do your A-level yet"!
Scotts _c_o_c_k_ began to leak pre-cum with fear as Mr Turner withdrew his finger and pushed Scott over a nearby desk, before kicking Scotts feet apart so his back was towards him. "I dont know if you are aware but I teach physics" he said firmly, "and physics is essentially about the law of movement and force. Movement ...." he added picking up his wooden ruler ".... and Force" he continued as he struck Scott hard with it across both his buttocks. Scott yelped with the pain. "You have been here long enough to know by now that you are supposed to stay outside during your morning break and at lunch-time unless you are having dinner in the Dining Hall but if you are not prepared to do as youre told I shall just have to punish you" he said mercilessly before striking Scotts buttocks a second and third time with the ruler.
Over and over again, he struck Scotts naked buttocks with the blackboard ruler:-
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
Scott was soon in tears and begging Mr Turner to stop, but the more Scott cried the harder Mr Turner struck him, mainly across Scotts bottom but with the odd stroke either halfway down across the back of both of Scotts thighs or the inside of either of the boys thighs: with each stroke being hard enough to leave its own distinct mark. Scott received thirty strokes in total, one every thirty seconds: twenty-four across his buttocks and six more across his thighs, the latter being given low enough for the marks to be visible below the hem of his shorts when, eventually, he was allowed to put them back on.
After the thirtieth stroke Mr Turner ordered Scott to face the blackboard, keeping his hands behind his head and elbows behind his shoulders, for half-an-hour whilst he [Mr Turner] jacked-off before allowing Scott to get dressed and go home. He thought of forcing Scott to give him a blow-job to remind him where to deposit his spunk but concluded that there would be plenty of future opportunities to do just that now that he had established his reign of terror over the new boy. Once, Scott tried to rub his butt whilst facing the blackboard but soon placed his hands back behind his head after being struck again with the ruler and reminded to do as he was told unless he wanted a further volley with the ruler.
On his way home, Scotts arse was so uncomfortable from rubbing against the inside of his underpants that, as soon as he got home, he stripped off his lower clothing and laid face-down on his bed first after inspecting the damage to his bottom and his thighs, and rubbing some much-needed antiseptic cream into his arse and legs to relieve the throbbing pain he felt. His arse was so sore that he couldnt sit at his desk to do his regular homework, let alone attempt to copy-up any past notes or write the essay Mr Ashurst had set him to do by the following morning, and wondered if any spanking from Mr Ashurst could be any worse than that he had received from Mr Turner. He was beyond caring now: his main priority was to avoid his mother spotting the marks on his thighs when he left for school the following morning - knowing that his father would spank him again at home were he to discover that Scott had previously been spanked at school – and then to speak to his parents the following evening (once his father had returned from a business trip overseas) to attempt to persuade them to send him to a different school.
To be continued .....