Tales From Thistletop School - End Game #8


by Pettigrew <Pettigrew@hush.com>

The delinquents each had perceptions of time that differed as the week progressed. Often these perceptions would vary from hour to hour. Time never seemed to pass at its normal rate. It would move sluggishly forward giving a longer opportunity to dwell on the fate ahead. Then again it would seem to rush as a torrent toward the dread awaited appointment with the birch. All the delinquents wished that time would cease completely.

Their impending doom prayed most on their minds when they were abed. With the lights out there was no external stimulation. All the nagging thoughts in their heads assumed gigantic proportions as if they were monsters in the dark. Each of them dwelt on their recollections of what had become of Hetherington. His cries echoed in their minds. The appearance of Hetherington's buttocks after the first stroke, the second stroke and when it was all over haunted their memories. Smith hadn't witnessed, but had heard, Hetherington's torment and he had seen the end result; moreover, he had first hand experience of administering the birch. More than once each of them had awoken in a sweat.

Dr de Ville had not delayed the execution in order to torment its lead players. There were two practical matters.

First, administering punishment to so many boys would be a lengthy affair and the Headmaster had no wish to disrupt school routine. Saturday afternoon was ideal because neither classroom nor prep time would be impinged upon.

Second, the birches needed preparation and a decent soaking to make them supple. To these ends Dr de Ville sent for Pilchard, the grounds man. Pilchards had been in the Thistletop area since before the Conquest. Despite joking remarks by people in the pub that pilchards were what sardines grow up to be, there was no connection between man and fish. Pilchards were not named after the fish and the fish were certainly not named after some intrepid Pilchard. Indeed, there had never been an intrepid Pilchard. Pilchards had always been villeins, vassals, minor peasants, servants, scullions, odd job men, and the like. The name Pilchard was probably some corruption, and contraction of, a more ancient appellation (such as, in Anglo Saxon, "those filthy good for nothing bastards who live in the tumbledown hut on the hill"). Even local amateur historians, a type for whom there usually is no matter too mundane to be of historical interest, couldn't be bothered to do etymological research on the name Pilchard: the Pilchards were just too insignificant to be of interest to anybody. Yet, generations of Pilchards had handed down from father to son the knack of making excellent birches; the trouble was they had never taken the business opportunity of setting up an emporium called, say, "Birches for the Sons of Gentry." Even with the extinction of school and judicial birching in the latter part of the twentieth century the opportunity would have remained to stay in business by simply renaming the shop "Adult Accessories."

Wilkins was restored to Thistletop at mid-morning on Wednesday. He was met by Dr de Ville and whisked off to the great man's study where he was bidden to sit in one of the comfy armchairs. Wilkins sat with great care; his bottom was still exquisitely tender and would remain so for several days more. The Headmaster was unaware of Wilkins' discomfort.

Wilkins was deeply touched by Dr De Ville's open admission of his own failings in the matter that let to Wilkins' pain and disgrace. It was a genuine and unreserved apology. From this too Wilkins had benefited: he had learnt that a true gentleman is not afraid to admit error even before one who is subordinate; it was a lesson he carried forward in life and his learning of it was one of the reasons why Wilkins as an adult rapidly came to be regarded as a man of honour, a true gentleman: an appellation that derives from demeanour rather than birth station.

There was considerable hilarity when Wilkins was reunited with his friends. A great cheer, accompanied by table thumping and leg stamping, arose when Wilkins and his friends entered the refectory for lunch. No one tried to stop it and it went on for a couple of minutes. That evening there was a party. This was lubricated by a dozen bottles of ale which Dr de Ville, wholly against his usual strict usages had donated to the proceedings (with dire warnings that this was a one-off special occasion.) Wilkins' friends, as it happens, had also acquired bottles of their own; that evening Dr de Ville was not counting. Moreover the Headmaster had made it known that he would personally undertake the prefects' duties of patrolling the school and supervising lights out for the juniors and seniors. Thus, left to themselves, Wilkins and his friends celebrated until past midnight.

Tempos has a habit of fugitting as the Latin scholars at present day English Mickey Mouse universities would say if there were any such "scholars". Friday arrived as inevitably it must. At assembly the Headmaster announced that the punishments would commence at four o'clock on Saturday afternoon; the miscreants were to report to Wilkins at three fifteen o'clock for instructions. The times of the junior and senior inter-collegiate matches had been pushed forward to allow all the proceedings, including the traditional farewell tea party for the players, to finish by three thirty. The headmaster of the other school had been very accommodating when the reason for the unusual haste had been explained to him.

As Friday progressed a pall of gloom thickened around all the delinquents. Lunch and tea were sombre affairs for each. As the day passed Johann became increasingly aware of tension in his belly and chest - butterflies; he ate little. Despite every contrary effort his mind was refusing to dwell on anything other than the morrow. His despond heightened dramatically at lights out. The darkness brought all his nagging worries into sharp focus: memories of Hetherington paraded naked to the birching stool; Hetherington's partially erect penis – oh how he had squirmed in embarrassment on Hetherington's behalf when seeing it; the sight of Hetherington's tight buttocks awaiting the first stroke; Hetherington's howls; Hetherington being led out afterwards, his bottom vivid red and bleeding from many small cuts. He then dwelt on the horror of his own impending nakedness before the whole school; how could he ever live that down? Would his penis rise too? That would be the final humiliation, far worse than the birch crashing onto his unprotected posterior. How could he prevent it? Did it just happen naturally or did it depend upon what one was thinking about? Who would be first? When would it be his turn? He dwelt on that a while and worked out that Dobson and Smith would be last and thus he, Atkins and Drummond, the lesser miscreants, would be first. But, in what order? Would it be alphabetical? Could he view Atkins and Drummond being beaten without something stirring? Johann certainly was not into gratification from abuse like Smith but he had to admit that seeing boys being beaten naked sometimes aroused him a little. Then he became aware of his buttocks in contact with the mattress beneath him. The thought arose that he wouldn't be able to sleep on his back tomorrow, he quivered. Somehow amidst this stream of discomforting thoughts Johann finally fell asleep.

Similar thoughts had occurred to all the boys, even the usually unimaginative Dobson. Drummond lay softly sobbing for a while before sleep engulfed him. Atkins tried to imagine that there would be a day after tomorrow. He didn't entirely convince himself and no matter what else he tried to think about that impossible hurdle blocking Saturday from Sunday had to be faced. Thorpe was feeling very sorry for himself. Already his buttocks were becoming the centre of his universe. At present they were in pristine condition; there had been no recent beating to blemish them and no previous beating had scarred them. Yet he knew it likely that after tomorrow he would have some small permanent marks. As he dwelt on his buttocks and what was to become of them he already had vivid presentiments of the pain that was to come. It was as if the ordeal of tomorrow had cast a physical shadow into the past.

Melrose's pre-sleep thoughts were a mixture of deep apprehension and enticing anticipation. Certainly he wished to avoid tomorrow's theatrical event on the stage of Thistletop School if he possibly could. He knew he could not escape it so his thoughts turned to the drama. Could he comport himself with dignity? Could he avoid blushing at his nakedness? Would people smirk at his penis and balls? If he had an erection would it be regarded as pathetically small? He had seen Hetherington's equipment and knew that his were nothing to compare, yet he was younger so perhaps allowance should be made. The drama continued to fascinate him. Were the various steps in it designed for efficiency, for maximum humiliation of the victims or for greatest impact on the audience? Perhaps some of each he mused. He recalled that Hetherington had been required to remove his shorts and hand them to Wilkins. He also remembered being told that at a previous birching the victim had to stand still whilst his shorts were taken down by a prefect. Which would it be tomorrow? Which was the more humiliating? He couldn't decide. Was it worse to have one's shorts taken down from the front or from behind? Again, he couldn't decide but neither option appealed. Then a horrible thought struck him. He had seen Hetherington escorted naked to the birching stool where he had been required to kneel. The prefects on either side of him had knelt too in order to ensure that Hetherington was placed rightly. This seemed to take a little while but Melrose had been unable to see what went on. Did the prefects have to adjust the position of the victim's balls and penis? He felt very uneasy about that, it was a humiliation too far. Then an even nastier thought arose. Perhaps there was no need to handle the victim's equipment but the prefects did it anyway being unseen by those around them: a kind of executioner's perk.

Dobson, though inclined to the thespian arts, was not thinking about the drama at all. His thoughts were focussed on the pain. He had been beaten by the Headmaster, he had been beaten by Wilkins and he had been beaten by Smith. Those occasions had been memorable. He had seen Hetherington beaten and he realised that his experiences were nothing to compare. What's more he was about to receive a worse thrashing than Hetherington, a beating proportionate to his greater crimes. He lay in bed shivering, thrashing about and moaning softly to himself. Dobson feared pain more than anything. Dobson was both bully and coward in a way Smith never could be.

As the week had progressed Smith's stoic detachment had waned. On this last night he had a clear understanding of what it is like to be the condemned man. He feared the morrow: dreaded the pain to come and loathed the idea that his humiliation would be in public. As to the personally embarrassing aspects of the procedure he shared the apprehensions of his fellow miscreants. Overriding all this, however, was his knowledge that tomorrow's ordeal was to be but the first instalment of two. In some respects he dreaded the second part more than the first. Admittedly the second part would not be before the whole school but in an indefinable way the thought of having just his erstwhile victims gathered round to see his humiliation was worse. Perhaps a contributory factor would be that he alone would be victim and not part of a larger pageant. To his credit, Smith did recognise that he had done wrong and accepted that it was right for him to submit to punishment. Yet that noble sentiment did not lessen his fear. Eventually he too dropped off to sleep.

Dawn presaged a bright and clear day, an excellent day for the inter-collegiate matches. Surprisingly Johann awoke refreshed, alert and relaxed. Somehow during his slumbers Johann's mind had fully adjusted to what his fate entailed, accepted it and was eager to get it over with. To varying degrees the other boys were similarly reconciled to what the day had to bring. Johann, Atkins and Drummond took breakfast together and each had a healthy appetite. They spoke little and didn't mention the ordeal ahead. Later in the morning they, as required, went out to the rugger pitch to cheer on their side in the inter-collegiate junior match. Thistletop lost by a small margin but it was agreed by both sides that it had been a well fought game.

The three retained reasonable appetites for lunch and then assembled near the touch line for the senior inter-collegiate match which was starting much earlier than usual. Johann managed to retain interest in the match until half-time. However, when the game resumed his thoughts were more focussed on enduring the forthcoming event than on the finer points of rugby union. By the time the final whistle was blown Johann had butterflies in his stomach. He didn't know it but the same was true for each of his companions in punishment. The fact that Thistletop seniors had won resoundingly did not lighten Johann's mood. There was three quarters of an hour before Johann and the others were due to report to Wilkins. Johann, Atkins and Drummond wandered aimlessly around the school. Hardly a word was said until it was nearly time to report. Then Drummond blurted "I'm scared. Its going to hurt so much. The thought of everyone looking at me ...." He stopped talking and started sobbing quietly.

Johann, who now was feeling little better himself, put his arm around Drummond's shoulder and said "I'm scared too. But we can take it. We will show everybody that we can take it."

"But we will be howling" said Drummond.

"Yes" said Atkins "its to be expected. Nobody can go through that without howling. No one will think any the less of us for howling. Its how we behave before that matters."

Drummond nodded. He dried his eyes and said "Yes, you are right. We can take it. We will show them."

Atkins added "Remember, we don't have to memorise what to do. We will be told every step of the way. All we have to do is obey. It kind of makes it simpler to think of it that way."

Johann and Drummond nodded. Then Drummond, who had perked up quite a bit, said "We are the Three Musketeers. We shall go into it together. One for all and all for one!"

Despite the circumstances all three managed to laugh. It was ten past three o'clock and the boys hurried off to Wilkins' study.

All the soon to be chastised sinners were assembled outside Wilkins' study by a quarter past three.

Wilkins, Standish and Fanshaw came out of the study and inspected the line of nervous youths. Each boy had his hands on his head.

"Very well" said Wilkins. "You have to get prepared properly. It is important that you empty your bladders, bowels too if necessary. Next you are to take a thorough shower with soap; you don't need to wash your head hair. Finally, put on the clean pair of shorts each of you has been issued with. You may wear plimsolls to protect your feet until you get on to the stage but then you will take them off. Smith and Dobson go with Standish. The rest of you go with Fanshaw to the junior showers."

Fanshaw made Johann and his fellows jog along at a brisk pace to the junior ablutions. They found their shorts, each with the regulation name tag, laid out; each pair was lightly starched and freshly pressed.

"Right, listen carefully. You will leave your clothes in this changing room. They will be collected on your behalf later. Go to the lavatory. Then get into the shower and make a good job of getting clean. Though you need not wash your hair I shall expect your ears, faces, necks and the rest of your bodies to be spotlessly clean. Don't forget that every eye in the hall will be upon you."

That last remark caused all the boys to wince. Fanshaw had intended to be light hearted to ease the tension rather than cruel.

"You have thirty minutes to accomplish this. I shall be back in twenty five minutes" said Fanshaw as he made ready to depart.

When Fanshaw returned the boys were ready. Each wore shorts and plimsolls. Fanshaw ordered them to place their hands on their heads and escorted them at a brisk pace back to Wilkins' study. During the preparation interlude all the boys had been too busy getting on with the tasks to hand to dwell overly much on what lay ahead.

At ten to three o'clock Standish returned with an impressively clean looking Dobson and Smith. The prefects retreated to Wilkin's study. The assembled punishment squad were left outside waiting while the next few minutes ticked by like a pendulum clock in treacle.

Meanwhile the Assembly Hall had nearly filled. Miss Hodkins had crept to the back of the balcony which, for this occasion, was housing the most junior forms. The senior and middle school were gathering in the hall below. Miss Hodkins had brought her opera glasses. She swept them around the hall. She had been excited all day and now she felt a flutter as her gaze alighted on a magnified image of the birching stool. It was positioned one quarter of the way from the left of the stage and well back from the front; it was angled at forty five degrees to the back of the stage. She saw that it wasn't a stool in the usual sense of the word. It was a broad solid block of wood with a low step near the base of its front. On closer examination she saw that the step was not part of the solid block but could be adjusted upwards and downwards. The step was divided by a central raised part that separated two troughs into which, she presumed, the miscreants knees and lower legs rested. The front of the stool above the step arched up smoothly and had a cleft in the centre. From the high position the stool seemed to flow downward in a curve though from her position she could not see that clearly. However, its function was obvious. The boy would kneel on the step and lean forward until his crotch was in contact with the front of the stool and then bend further until his abdomen and chest, in direct contact with the smooth wood of the "stool", passed down at an angle such that his bottom was well displayed and tight. Miss Hodkins felt another little frisson.

Miss Hodkins observed that there were only four seats on the stage; the backs of these were positioned up against the left wall of the stage. Presumably because so many boys were to be assembled at once for punishment there was too little room for all the staff to gather there. Then she noticed that members of staff were beginning to take up seats reserved for them at the front of the hall. She shifted her gaze back to the stage and had a very big frisson. She beheld what appeared to be a barrel. It was positioned in front of and somewhat to the left of the "stool". Sticking out the top were what obviously must be the handles of the birch rods; each had a small label attached to it. She could see that the handles were beautifully crafted and it was clear where some of the longer twigs were attached to them.

The boys had all assembled, as had the staff, on the floor of the auditorium. The main doors were closed. Dr De Ville accompanied by his deputy, by the sports master, by Wilkins, by Aubrey and by Standish came directly onto the stage via the door at the back. The Headmaster walked to the front of the stage. There was silence.

To be continued. (All commercial rights to the Thistletop stories are retained by their author.)


More stories by Pettigrew