AUTHOR'S NOTE Twins in Trouble will be resumed shortly. Because of the fairly lengthy period in the Summer when MMSA Stories was not updating, I have a few stories in stock. This is one of them.
Rupert Truman was a remarkably talented young man. At the time when we will join him, at the age of 21 in 1960, he had finished a glittering three years at Cambridge. He had read modern languages and emerged with a starred double first. His had been the best degree of his year. The amazing thing was that he had also managed to acquire a blue in cricket and a half blue (the best one could get) in tennis. You might well have thought that those achievements would have necessitated his abstaining from the social side of undergraduate life. But you would be wrong. In his last term he had been President of the Union. He had a string of admiring girl friends in the women's colleges and the various secretarial colleges. When not in training for cricket or tennis, his consumption of beer was as considerable as that of any of his fellow undergraduates. Before going up to Cambridge, he had been head boy and captain of cricket at his prestigious public school. Even earlier, at his prep school, his potential had been realised. He had held precisely the same posts there.
His life had not been without any sadness though. A few months before his first term at Cambridge, his father, whom he had adored and admired with a passion, had died in a road accident. His grief had been enormous. There had been those close to him who had feared that shock of the loss would destroy him, that he would give up all thoughts of academia and retire to nurse his depression. But he had been made of stronger stuff than that. He knew where his duty lay. He was now head of the family. His mother and younger siblings would now depend on him as never before. And he was determined not to let them down.
I have introduced the hero of this story as Rupert Truman. That, indeed, was the name he generally chose to be known by. But, in truth, following the death of his father, he had in fact become the 12th Earl of Guildford. And his inheritance had not been limited to a title. The Trumans had always been canny with money, right back to the 16th Century. Rupert's father had been no different. The estates which passed to his older son had hardly been dented at all by years of penal socialist taxation. Some of the best accountants and tax lawyers in the land had laboured constantly to keep the Guildford fortune intact. And they had largely succeeded.
So it was that the dashing young Earl entered adulthood to find himself one of the most eligible bachelors in the land. And not only was he rich, handsome and titled, but he was also immensely gifted. His talents were such that it was unthinkable that he would be satisfied with a life devoted merely to the management of his family estates. It was not just his family and friends who speculated on what career he would choose for himself. The gossip columns of all the society magazines were filled with their own, often wild, theories about his future career. Those people who were more sober and sensible about these things, suggested the possibility of an academic life at one of the great universities, or a post in the Foreign Office, or perhaps an active participation in politics (he would not, if he chose that course, be the first Earl of Guildford to occupy a high office of state).
Rupert himself had given nothing away. He remained stubbornly silent on the subject of his future career. As the end of his time at Cambridge approached, he listened politely and attentively to those who tried to tempt him. The Conservative Chief Whip in the House of Lords, who had given him dinner shortly after he had taken his seat, had held out the promise of early ministerial office. The Permanent Under Secretary at the Foreign and Commonwealth Office, who had casually bumped into him at White's Club one evening, had spoken of the glories of the British Embassy in Paris. The Master of his college, with whom he had taken tea shortly before the end of term, had had no doubt but that a fellowship would be offered to him within weeks. To all of this, as I say, he had listened with politeness and gratitude. But to none of those great men had he said anything to indicate what he would actually do. But do not think for one minute that he did not have plans of his own.
Before I reveal what those plans were, I must, most regretfully, reveal one aspect of Rupert's character which many will not think wholly to his credit. But I hope you will not judge him harshly. And I say, immediately, in his defence that he had never allowed the interest which I must describe to cause unnecessary harm to anyone else. The truth is that, from an early age, he had had an extraordinary fascination with the punishment of boys. And not just any punishment. No, his particular interest was in corporal punishment. From about the age of eleven he had become conscious that he was unusually moved by his friends' punishments. At first, he had just assumed it was normal. Gradually, however, as he became more aware, he began to recognise that his passion was far from being universally shared. The realisation caused him considerable distress. It took him quite some time to come to terms with what was now a guilty secret. But gradually he succeeded. He was helped by the knowledge that he was not, to use the ugly word so common at the time, "queer" in the usual sense. As he went through his teens he began to develop a passion, just as strong, for the fair _s_e_x_. And never, at any time, had he had any desire to perform any unnatural act with a boy. But there was no doubting the fact that his obsession with physical chastisement of naughty boys was not a passing phase. It was something with which he was going to have to live for the rest of his life.
Rupert's first great test had come with his appointment as head boy at his public school. The holder of that office had many duties, but the one which impressed itself most on the minds of the younger boys was the duty to punish them when they got out of hand. I do not exaggerate when I say that hardly a day went by without the head boy having to cane at least one miscreant. And, of course, there was plenty of scope for the boy occupying that post to abuse his power. Nothing would have been easier for Rupert, had he allowed himself to give into temptation, than to summon any innocent boy he chose to his study for a sound beating. Had he done so, of course, he would not have been a popular head boy, but such were the mores of the time that no one would have put a stop to his activities.
You must not underestimate the temptation. It is perhaps enough to indicate its strength that I should describe one boy in particular. He was 14 and in his second year at the school. He was destined to be almost as handsome a young man as Rupert himself. He was constantly cheerful, without being irritating. He worked hard at his studies and he performed exceptionally well on the sports fields. He had a slight, and quite charming, streak of mischief in his character, but he was not constantly in trouble. He was one of the most popular boys in his year. In short, he was almost a younger version of our hero.
But there was one thing about Jonathan Trench, for that was his name, which appealed to Rupert more than any other. His long slim legs rose to a firm, slightly rounded bottom which was just crying out to be caned.
As his first term as head boy slowly passed, Rupert found himself gazing longingly at Jonathan's buttocks whenever the opportunity presented itself. There were plenty of other boys who nervously found themselves knocking on his study door. And whenever he heard the sound he secretly hoped that, this time, it would be Jonathan. But it never seemed to be. Weeks and weeks passed. Countless boys felt the sting of Rupert's cane on their bottoms, but Jonathan seemed to be leading a charmed life. More than once Rupert found himself thinking how simple it would be to summon the boy, inform him that his attitude left something to be desired (a vague "offence" which had once led to Rupert being caned by a particularly disagreeable head boy) and order him to bend over. But the thought only had to flit across his mind before it was vigorously dismissed as being horribly dishonourable.
It was in the last week of that first term that Rupert's opportunity presented itself. It was 6 o'clock in the evening, one of the conventional times for prefects to instruct boys to attend on the head boy for punishment. He was siting in an arm chair waiting for the usual knock. It came.
"Come in", he had called out.
Jonathan, who had removed his jacket as was the custom on these occasions, stepped smartly in.
"What is it Trench?", Rupert just managed to keep the tremble out of his voice as he realised what lay ahead.
"Conningsby sent me Truman".
"Why?"
"He said I hadn't polished my shoes properly".
That was a new one on Rupert. Conningsby was the one prefect about whom Rupert had considerable reservations. He sent far more boys to be caned than any other. But even he had never sunk as low as this. Rupert looked down at Jonathan's shoes. They were not, it is true, like a mirror. But they were no dirtier than his own. Indeed, to Rupert's eyes they seemed entirely normal.
"Have you polished them since Conningsby told you to see me?".
"No, I am afraid I didn't have time. He only just caught me."
What was Rupert to do? No sane prefect could possibly think that the state of Jonathan's shoes merited a painful beating. But there was also no doubt that Jonathan, who was a model schoolboy, would not have blamed the head boy for going ahead with the punishment. The fourteen year old knew full well the importance of the head boy supporting his prefects. He would simply have clenched his teeth and borne the pain, blaming no one but Conningsby for the injustice. Rupert knew that very well. He could apply three hard strokes to that perfect bottom without anyone ever thinking badly of him. But he also knew it would be wrong. There was no rule that he had to cane any boy sent to him by a prefect. The final decision was his and his alone. He sat silent for a few moments as all this went through his mind. Then he pronounced.
"Very well Trench, you will kindly proceed immediately to the boot room and polish your shoes until they are shining as never before. You will then go to Conningsby and inform him that I have given you a severe reprimand. You may go now."
The look of relief on Jonathan's face was wonderful to see, but it was with a tinge of sadness that Rupert looked down at the tightly trousered bottom as the boy turned to leave the room.
Rupert's virtue was not to go unrewarded. It was only in the second week of his second term as head boy that Jonathan again knocked at the door. This time the conversation presented no difficulties.
"What is it Trench?"
"Layton sent me. I was in Franton Woods after lunch."
Franton Woods were out of bounds to all but sixth form boys. This was not an offence that could ever be overlooked.
"Is there anything you want to say to me?", Rupert asked the question in a gentle, kind tone.
"No thank you Truman".
"Well I am sorry, but I have no option but to cane you."
"I know Truman", and, without more ado, Jonathan stepped into the middle of the room and, not bothering to await the inevitable command, bent over.
Rupert slowly rose from his chair and ambled over to the wicker basket in the corner where his canes were kept. He picked one out, swung it a couple of times to test its whippiness and walked back to the waiting boy. His feet were about six inches apart. He was clutching his ankles. His knees were straight. The thin flannel of his trousers was now so tight across his bottom that Rupert could see the lines of his Y fronts underneath. He savoured that moment. So delightful was the sight that he almost felt his hand tremble as he raised the cane high in the air. But there was no way this was not going to be a perfectly executed beating.
The first stroke swished through the air and cracked down hard on the small bottom. It was dead centre. Jonathan had heard countless tales of Rupert's ferocity as a caner. Their truth was now confirmed to him. He clutched his ankles tighter, closed his eyes, bit his lip and waited for the next stinging swipe.
The pain of the second was just as dreadful. He knew that there would be two more to come and he took a deep breath as awaited them. Rupert was taking his time. He had waited months for this, and he was not going to rush it now. The second stroke had been just higher than the first. Each was leaving a line across Jonathan's trouser seat. The next would be just below the first.
Rupert's aim was perfect. Jonathan was now digging his finger nails into his ankles. He waited a full thirty seconds for the last. When it came it was a beauty. It just overlapped the first two, exacerbating the pain they had caused and also searing into that thin line of flesh between them which had, as yet, been unmarked.
As was his custom, Rupert slowly walked back to the wicker basket and replaced the cane before turning back and allowing the boy to stand. He was gratified to see Jonathan's hands fly to his throbbing bottom. The boy, as he expected, had taken the punishment very well. But there was no doubt that he was in very great pain.
"That'll be all Trench"
Jonathan gratefully turned to leave.
"Oh by the way", Rupert called to him as he turned the handle, "excellent bowling today, I'm going to put you in the Colts on Saturday".
The pain was not diminished, but the news that he would be playing for the school put a wonderful grin on Jonathan's face as he turned back to thank his hero. For that is what Rupert was.
When he left school Rupert assumed that his days of walloping boys' bottoms, at least until he had sons of his own, were now passed. In fact, as a result of his father's untimely death, that assumption had been wrong. He had two younger brothers. They were eight and ten when they lost their father. To his credit, Rupert had not thought about the disciplinary possibilities to which his new position as head of the family might lead. For at least a month the subject of how James and Richard's behaviour was to be controlled in the future did not arise. The normally lively boys were just as affected by their loss as Rupert had been and, as a result, they had been in no trouble at all. But they were healthy, normal boys and, of course, their sense of fun, and mischief, could not be kept down for ever. One evening Rupert and his mother had been sitting alone in the library of the family's main house in Surrey. Earlier in the day, James, the ten year old, had gone missing, when he was meant to be helping to entertain an aunt and uncle, for some hours. Eventually he had turned up and confessed that so boring had the prospect been that he had gone fishing. His mother had rebuked him firmly and he had been sent to bed without supper. The incident had caused her to think about the future.
"Rupert my dear", the dowager Countess began hesitantly, "I've been worrying about the boys."
"Oh don't mama, I'm sure they are getting over it. They're tough lads."
"Well, in a way, that's the point. I'm delighted that they are beginning to have fun again, but I'm concerned about what I can do when they take things too far. It's no problem during term time, now they are both boarding. They are kept in check there by the prospect of Mr Langton's gym shoe." Mr Langton, I should explain, was the headmaster of the boys' prep school, to which Rupert had also gone and he vividly remembered the effect that that gym shoe had had on him. "But now that papa is no longer here to apply the occasional firm hand, I fear that the holidays could become a nightmare. I know this is an awful thing to ask of you darling, but you are now head of the family and I fear it is you duty. What I want is for you to take over the boys' discipline in the holidays. I won't beat about the bush. What I need to know is that, when they deserve it, you will be around to slipper James and smack Richard. And, I'm really sorry about this, but I honestly think that James deserves it now."
Rupert had thought, when James had returned from his illicit fishing expedition, that the boy had really need a good walloping. But I am not lying when I tell you that it had not occurred to him that he might be the one to administer it. He thought for a few moments. Whacking his own brothers was not something that, immediately, seemed right to him. But the more he pondered it, the more he realised that his mother's solution was the obvious one. To ask one of the staff to do the job would have been unthinkable. Uncle Toby, who was the closest adult relative, lived far too far away, and anyway he was much too much of the jolly uncle figure to adapt to the paternal role. No, he could not escape this duty and, with a solemn nod of the head, he indicated his consent to the plan.
"Oh darling, you are so good. I know the boys will be grateful one day, but I also know that it is not going to be easy for you."
"Well, I'll do my best mama. I suppose I'd better get it over with now."
"Yes, I think that would be for the best".
It was with a heavy heart that Rupert slowly climbed the main staircase from the hall to the first floor. James's room was a full thirty yards along the principal bedroom corridor. Rupert's pace slowed even more as he approached the heavy oak door. When he reached it he paused for a moment then, in a loud voice so that he could be heard inside, he called out.
"James".
"Yes", the still treble voice called back.
"It's Rupert, can I come in?"
"Course you can Rupes".
He opened the door and stepped into the large room. James was sitting on his bed reading a comic. He had changed into his pyjamas already, but it was too early for him to want to sleep. Rupert walked over to him and looked down at the slim boy.
James was as blessed with the Truman good looks as his older brother was. He was dark haired. His facial bones were finely chiselled. When he smiled, he had charming dimples in his cheeks. He smiled now as he looked up at Rupert.
"Can I sit down?"
"Course", James patted the bed beside him.
"Look, this isn't going to be easy Jim, but please hear me out before you say anything."
James detected the serious tone of his brother's voice and slowly nodded his head.
"I've been talking to mama. You know that what you did this afternoon was wrong. OK, so I used to do things like that all the time when I was your age. I'm not being hypocritical. I'm not really angry or anything. But you and I both know that when I did things like that papa used to give me a good slippering. And, well, you also know that if he was still with us that's exactly what you'd have got today."
James was not stupid. He could see exactly where this conversation was leading, and he could also see how hard it was for Rupert. He had been doing some thinking of his own while sitting alone in his room and he had already come to some unpalatable conclusions for a ten year old boy. Despite his promise, he now did interrupt Rupert, if only to make the older boy's task easier.
"I know you don't want me to say anything, but I'm going to". He spoke with such surprising firmness that Rupert allowed him to continue. "Mama thinks I need the slipper doesn't she?"
Rupert nodded.
"And she's asked you to give it to me?"
Rupert nodded again.
"Well I know she's right. I mean I hate getting it, but I know I deserve it and you're the only one who should give it to me. So don't worry, let's just get it over with." And again that wonderful smile spread across his handsome features.
Rupert felt as though a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders. He had dreaded finding that his younger brother would be horrified at their mother's plan. He had pictured himself having to fight to get the boy across his knee and then having to listen to his loud screams of protestations as he carried out the punishment. But now, to his undisguised amazement, he found that James was going to be as meek and obedient as any prep school boy facing his headmaster. As if to press the point home, James stood and walked over to the large wardrobe opposite the bed. He opened it and leant down to reach something from the bottom shelf. He turned and revealed the large greying gym shoe that their father had first used on Rupert and had then used on James. From his tenth birthday until his thirteenth, the shoe had been kept in Rupert's room. Then, on James's tenth birthday it had been placed in his wardrobe. Rupert had wondered whether it would still be there, or whether he would have to search the house for it.
James walked back to the bed and handed the shoe to his brother. Then, with no embarrassment, he untied the cord of his pyjama bottoms and allowed them to drop to the floor. Next, slowly and deliberately, he eased himself across his brother's knee until his small round bottom was perfectly positioned. Rupert looked down on the firm buttocks with new eyes. For some reason, his interest in punishment had never been that much roused by James's whackings. Perhaps it was because they had always taken place privately, here in the boy's bedroom. The walls and the door were thick enough to make it difficult to hear the sounds of the smacks or blows from the slipper unless one was right outside in the corridor. And Rupert had never been so sadistic as to position himself there. But now, as he continued to look down, it occurred to him for the first time that James's bottom was as perfect for punishment as Jonathan Trench's. He smiled as he realised that the difficult task he had been set by his mother would carry some consolation with it.
Rupert made a good job of it. He gave James four exceptionally hard strokes. With each one, the boy's buttocks had become redder and redder. The shoe easily covered the whole bottom and, at the end, there was not the smallest patch of white flesh to be seen. The older brother knew that James must have been in very real agony. But he had not let out the slightest sound and had remained perfectly still, without any need to be restrained at any stage. When he rose at the end and clutched his hot flesh, his eyes were only slightly watering. He blinked a bit and, in a moment, they were dry. And then that smile appeared again. He looked into his brother's eyes with clear affection.
"Wow, Rupes", he said as he continued his furious rubbing, "I wasn't expecting it to be even harder than papa. I think I'm going to have to watch my step."
Rupert smiled back. "Well I wasn't expecting you to take it like a public schoolboy. That was pretty impressive Jim. Look, take a few moments to get over it and then come down to the kitchen. I'll find you something scrummy to eat."
"Won't mama be cross?"
"Of course not. She loves you to bits. She won't want you to be punished any more than necessary. Anyway, I'm in charge of discipline now, and don't you forget it."
"I'm hardly likely to", James replied with a laugh. Then, in a gesture which seemed to come naturally to him, pyjama bottoms still around his ankles, he sat on his brother's knee and hugged him tightly. When he stood again there were tears in the eyes of both boys. They were partly tears of sadness, at the knowledge that their father had now been replaced by Rupert. But they were also tears of the deepest affection each had for the other. A new order had been established, and it was one which seemed right and proper.
It had not been long before Richard had found himself across Rupert's knee feeling a large hand slam into his small bottom. He had not been quite as brave as James. Even though, at his new prep school, he had taken the slipper like a man, he was still of an age when home spankings did not come easily to him. But the fight he put up as Rupert dragged him across his knee and tugged the shorts and underpants down had only been a token one. He had cried a little, but more at distress that he had upset his older brother than at the pain, though pain there certainly was. At the end, just as had happened with James, the two brothers hugged each other tightly. Richard buried his head in Rupert's shoulder and, now, he cried in earnest. Between his sobs he managed to get out a few words.
"Oh Rupes. I'm so sorry. I'll never be bad again. I know you and mama are so kind to me." But he couldn't manage any more.
Rupert gently patted his brother's back and softly kissed the top of his head, while desperately trying to fight back his own tears.
"Cheer up old thing", he whispered into the boy's ear, "it's all over now. I was just as naughty as you when I was your age. And I know you'll be in trouble again and we'll have to do this again, but it doesn't stop me loving you more than any words could say. Come on, let's go and kick a ball around."
During the ensuing university holidays, James and Richard suffered again from the occasional, but only occasional, sore bottom. On his tenth birthday the other of the pair of large grey gym shoes was ceremoniously placed in Richard's bedroom. By the time of the main part of this history, it had been put to painful use three times.
It was necessary for me to expose Rupert's secret because, if I had not, you would find it very hard to understand why he had formed the plan which I must now unfold for you. But I hope that, in doing so, I have also demonstrated that his character was such that no boy who ever came under his authority would suffer an injustice as a result of his weakness.
I must crave your indulgence before I reveal all. There is one other important character who must be explained first. I have mentioned that Rupert had a string of admiring girlfriends at Cambridge. But, in fact, they were no more than frivolous diversions. Another of his sterling qualitites was his loyalty. Ever since he had been thirteen he had been passionately in love with the daughter of close (well three miles away but that was close for the Trumans) neighbours. She, Lucinda Grey, was two years younger than Rupert. His initial interest in her was due, I am sorry to say, to his other interest. She had been eleven and he thirteen. He had called on her parents' house to deliver a message from his father's gamekeeper (Mr Grey was often allowed a gun on the estate's shoot). Mrs Grey had opened the front door. She had looked a little embarrassed, but no one could turn away Viscount Framley (Rupert's courtesy title before he inherited the earldom). She ushered him in, but, instead of taking him into the drawing room, she directed him to the dining room. The drawing room door was open as he passed it and he caught a glimpse of a domestic scene which he immediately understood. Lucinda Grey was draped across her father's knee, with her jeans and knickers down, kicking uselessly with both feet. Rupert clearly saw her slim round bottom for a second. It was already pink and, just as he passed, he saw her father's hand descending once again and heard the familiar loud slapping noise as it connected with her firm flesh.
Just before the dining room door closed behind them, Rupert heard Lucinda's voice. She wasn't actually crying, but she was begging.
"Please Daddy, I promise I'll be good". And then another slap.
Rupert understood Mrs Grey's embarrassment. He quickly delivered his message and pleaded an urgent need to get to the village. But, once outside, he slipped behind a hedge in the hope of seeing Lucinda come out. He was not to be disappointed. After about five minutes he saw the front door open again and Lucinda emerged. She was wearing a white T shirt and tight blue jeans. He noticed one hand stroking the bottom which he had just seen free of the jeans. He stared at her for a few minutes as she walked towards the shed where he knew her bicycle to be kept. He suddenly realised that, undeveloped though she was, she was extraordinarily attractive, in a tom boyish sort of way. She was tall and slim. Her short blonde hair was styled with a delightful fringe. Her complexion was incredibly clear and face was wonderfully pretty. That was the moment he realised he was in love.
When she emerged from the shed with her bicycle, Rupert wheeled his out from its hiding place behind the hedge. He called out to her.
"Hi, Lucinda, are you going into the village?"
She looked up in surprise and some distress. The latter was caused by having just discovered from overhearing a conversation with her parents that Rupert had been in the house during her spanking. She didn't know he had actually seen part of it, including her pink bottom, but just the knowledge that he must have heard something was deeply embarrassing. He grasped immediately, from the expression on her face, what was troubling her.
"Wow, that spanking you were getting sounded as hard as I get from my father. You must be really strong for a girl, to be able to take that. Don't worry, it's our secret. Anyway, I get my bum whacked all the time."
She was slightly put at her ease by what he had said and, after a little more conversation, agreed to cycle in with him to the village.
Most boys of that age would have got over such an infatuation within days. Rupert had not done so eight years later. She was now nineteen, and to Rupert's eyes, the most beautiful girl in the world. He had pursued her with a single-minded determination over all those years. She was far from being immune to his charms, but she also felt that she, a mere solicitor's daughter, was not worthy of the attentions of a rich and handsome Earl. It had taken him a considerable time to persuade her that his desire that they be boyfriend and girlfriend was unshakeable. But he had finally succeeded and, now, they were recognised throughout the county, as being a real "item".
And now for Rupert's plan for his life. It was simple really. It would combine both his interests.
Lucinda had got a job as matron at a small boys' prep school. In passing, she had mentioned that the school's lease on its building was about to expire and that the new rent would be too high. It seemed, she had said, that the place would have to close down and she would have to find another job.
That had given Rupert the idea. The family's second house in Surrey, Framley Hall, was presently lying empty. It was a large, rambling Victorian mansion, easily large enough to house a medium sized prep school.
Rupert instructed his lawyers to get onto the job. Planning permission for change of use was granted without any problems. Knowing that his plan was now feasible, he approached Lexton Prep School's headmaster, Mr Rampton, with his unusual proposal. The whole thing was agreed remarkably quickly. Mr Rampton knew that, without Rupert's intervention, his school would close and he would have to look for a menial post in some other school. True, he was a little disconcerted by some of the details of the plan, but he could learn to live with them.
And so it was that, at the start of the next term, Lexton School moved to Framley Hall. There were to be two headmasters. Mr Rampton was in charge of all class work. He was to be given a lease of the Dower House in the grounds at a peppercorn rent. Rupert, with the title of Head of Boarding, was to be responsible for the boys' welfare and discipline at all other times. He would live in the main building, with all the boys and Matron. Eventually, when Mr Rampton retired, Rupert would assume total control, but, for the present, he was quite happy with his limited responsibilities. And there was the enormous added bonus of having Lucinda under the same roof.
AUTHOR'S NOTE In the next episode we will join our hero at the beginning of his first term at Lexton. As always, any comments are always welcome.