Before Atkins and his escort had exited the hall Drummond had been bidden to step forward and face the audience. At the same time Standish bade Johann step into the position previously occupied by Drummond and to place his hands on his head. The rest of the line of sinners each shuffled up one position closer to the working end of the dread "stool".
Johann was aware that somewhere, as if far away, a voice was saying "Drummond shall suffer the same penalty as Atkins and for the same reasons."
Johann watched in dread as Wilkins stepped behind Drummond, eased down Drummond's shorts, waited while Drummond bent to pick them up and hand them to him, and then tossed them into the corner where Atkins' shorts remained as a mute testament to what had gone before.
Previously Drummond, as seen through Smith's eyes, was described thus: "Drummond was shorter than Atkins but average height for his age. He was slightly more thickset. There was more evident muscle, but nothing exceptional, and no trace of fat. His face was round and pleasant and usually wore a happy grin; today it was red with embarrassment and portrayed a general expression of misery. His hair, shorter than Atkins', was mousy brown. His limbs and trunk too were devoid of obvious hair. His pubic hair was blonder than his head hair. It, like that of Atkins, didn't rise far above the top of his pubis but in its natural habitat it was lush. His testes looked slightly bigger than those of Atkins. Neither was wholly down and that on the left was almost out of sight. Being of darker hue he had tanned more deeply than Atkins and the comparatively pale zone around Drummond's lower belly, pudenda and upper thighs was distinctly alluring to Smith. To Smith's eyes the most notable difference between the two boys viewed from the front was that Drummond's penis was a little longer and becoming tumescent; that is, it, although not erect, or even half way up, was not dangling entirely passively. Drummond reddened even more when he observed Smith's gaze on his pudenda. Viewed from the rear, which reddened Drummond yet more if that were possible, Drummond had a, high rather than low slung, protuberant, firm, muscular bottom that was even more impressive than Atkins' fine specimen."
There is little to add to Smith's assessment of this specimen. The difference in height between Atkins and Drummond had diminished to very little, certainly not enough for Wilkins to make any adjustment to the "stool". As with Atkins, the intervening months had resulted in noticeable bodily development but nothing that detracted from the allure, if anything the opposite. Drummonds demeanour was much the same as when Smith filed away his mental observations, however on this occasion Drummond was noticeably trembling, and not from cold.
Drummond felt numb whilst being led the few steps to the base of the "stool". He felt some consolation from the fact that his penis was limp. He knelt and meekly allowed himself to be placed into the proper position. He was aware of his pudendal equipment being adjusted but that was not at the top of the priorities of his thoughts. Once in position his behind felt tight and his thighs were well spread. He assumed that his anus was visible to the onlookers but, in the circumstances, even that did not trouble him; in fact, apart from anyone directly behind him on the stage, Drummond's anus was not easy to see, except, that is, by Miss Hodkins through her opera glasses.
This time it was the Deputy Head who picked a birch from the barrel and came to stand behind Drummond; he was a left hander. Drummond could hear the Deputy's footfalls; his body tensed and he tightly gripped the bar before him. Drummond heard the Deputy swish excess water from the birch, a few drops landed on him, and then felt a momentary cold breeze pass up between and along his buttocks; his buttocks twitched. Drummond waited, not daring to take a breath.
Absolute silence. Like Atkins before, Drummond had no clue what was going on behind him unless there was sound. The silence seemed to stretch on for ever though in reality three seconds had passed. Then the sound of fast, heavy steps. The prefects tightened their grips on his shoulders. A loud swish. His body being thrust forward hard but having no distance to travel. Pain. Worsening pain. Heat. A yell.
At first Drummond didn't know where the yell had come from, then he realised it was he who had yelled. He sucked in breath like a near drowning man. His heart pounded. The acute pain in his buttocks subsided into a menacing throb; if the throb had been a sound it would have been loud. The throbbing eased into a general feeling of discomfort in his rear end. All this happened whilst the deputy withdrew the birch and padded slowly back to his take-off point.
The Deputy stood for a few moments surveying his work. Damage to the middle sections of both Drummond's buttocks was clearly apparent and becoming more noticeable with each passing second. He waited a few moments longer until Drummonds breathing had eased and muscular tension had reduced. Then he began again.
The first stroke on Drummond had frightened Johann as much as Atkins' entire thrashing. Perhaps, this was because he now had full view of both Drummond's buttocks, or, perhaps, it was that his fate was much closer and its inevitability confirmed. Johann knew there would be no mercy for any of them; each would receive his prescribed quota of pain. Unbidden an image of his mother's face appeared in Johann's mind. At that moment he felt terrible shame. How would it be if she were to witness his pain and humiliation? How would it be if she were to know why he had to receive such punishment? Johann knew deep within him that he truly deserved what was to come. He knew too that he never again would hide the truth and let someone else suffer as a consequence. Moreover, he knew that whether or not he were beaten that resolve would remain true. He had learnt his lesson not from the expectation of what he was about to endure but from having witnessed the effect of his lapse in integrity upon another. Yet knowing that his punishment was merited did nothing to ease his anguish.
The second stroke of the birch elicited a much louder yell from Drummond. It was followed by sharp intakes and out flowing of air through Drummond's pursed lips; these were but a small, and largely futile, attempt to ease or bear the pain as it began to diminish from its peak.
When the birch was arcing down for the third stroke Johann felt his own buttocks clench as if in sympathy, or was it anticipation? Drummond's yell was followed by muted sobs.
As the fourth stroke was in full swing Johann became aware of stirring under his shorts: the thing he most dreaded. He had no inkling why it was occurring. There seemed nothing in what was happening before him that should make him horny. Was he getting pleasure viewing his friend's humiliation? Was he getting pleasure anticipating his own? He just did not know. Yet the stirring intensified.
Dr de Ville took over at the fifth stroke. He adopted a right handed stance. As was the case for Atkins the blow that followed was devastating. Drummond screamed and, in his agony, attempted to rear up much more forcibly than before. There was a longer period of deep breathing before Drummond settled and his body became more relaxed. His sobs were no longer muted; they were interspersed by groans audible to everyone on the stage.
To his horror Johann realised that his organ was pressing very uncomfortably against his shorts. It was being impeded by the fabric in its attempt to nestle its tip against his lower belly. Indeed, the impediment itself seemed to be inciting the appendage toward greater efforts to become the physicists' perfect rigid body. With his hands on his head Johann could do nothing to ease its passage. He glanced down and shuddered when he saw an obvious bulge. Indeed, the bulge was obvious to almost everybody in the hall who cared to look for it. Several onlookers did observe this phenomenon. They knew full well what it portended. A few nudged the boy sitting to their left or right and risked Dr de Ville's wrath by whispering in his ear. Johann, when he dared let his gaze wander across the audience was aware of several boys staring directly at him and smirking (full grins would be too risky.)
Johann was not aware that one member of his audience was taking particular delight in his discomfiture. Whilst the Headmaster was resuming his bowling crease and waiting a few moments for Drummond to compose himself Miss Hodkins had taken her magnified gaze from Drummond's ravaged behind and let it wander along the line of waiting boys. Finally, she had Johann's face in her sights. She was puzzled. When last she had scrutinised him his face had been ashen, now it was beetroot red. His brow was beaded with sweat. The erythema extended down his neck and onto his upper chest. She let her gaze continue down Petreson's beautiful body, which soon she would see in its entirety, until it rested on the front of his shorts. That bulge, that obvious bulge – she knew what it meant, sort of. Until today Miss Petreson had never seen a real adult, or near-adult, penis. She knew what they were for, theoretically. She knew that penes were dirty disgusting organs with which men violate women (details of violation eluded her). Oh how, at the back of her mind, she wanted to be violated (a thought she could never acknowledge since men were beasts who had ignored her.) Oh to be violated by Petreson, or better still that even more handsome boy Smith at the back of the line. Miss Hodson's thoughts had become an utterly confused turmoil and the dampness in her knickers (a voluminous pair) was palpable and would leave a lasting memento on the seat she was sitting on.
Drummond was sobbing loudly following deep inspirations after his final scream. The prefects were beginning to gently coax him into standing. Drummond didn't want to move but knew he had to.
Johann was in a static panic. He wanted to flee. Even if he dared try he could not. He was rooted to the spot. His pubic problem had not gone away. It was worse. At least the discomfort had departed after his organ, somehow finding malevolent strength, had overcome the hindrance of his shorts and shot up (almost with an audible twang) to align itself vertically with his belly. To his even more intense embarrassment Johann could feel dampness where the tip of his todger touched his flesh.
Johann was awoken from his nightmare reverie by a soft tap on his shoulder from behind. Standish said gently, "Petreson, it is time. Step forward with me. I will tell you where to stand. Keep you hands on you head. Just follow instructions one step at a time. Do you understand?"
Johann nodded numbly. He followed Standish until he was standing about three feet from the edge of the stage facing the audience. He had a momentary urge to cast himself down.
After Drummond had been helped to the bottom of the stage steps and was beginning his humiliating, shuffling walk through the audience, Dr de Ville rose from his chair and sauntered across the stage to stand a few feet to the side of Johann and about eighteen inches in front.
There was a pause and then Dr de Ville said "Petreson is being chastised for the same reasons as Atkins and Drummond. His punishment is six strokes of the birch."
Johann already knew what was to come but hearing it said somehow made him feel worse. He became aware of Wilkins standing behind him. Wilkins' left and right hands went to the left and right sides respectively of the waistband of his shorts at the front.
He felt his shorts slowly being eased downwards. Almost immediately they caught giving him discomfort at the tip of his penis. As if nothing had happened, Wilkins eased the elastic of the waistband forward, up a little, and then continued the downward passage. Johann became physically aware of being exposed as the cooler ambient air of the hall replaced that already in circulation around his crotch. Slowly the shorts continued on their way until the obstructions of his hips and upper thighs were passed and they could drop freely to the floor.
There was a muted gasp from the audience.
Johann was mortified and stood stock still.
Wilkins whispered in his ear "Step out of them Petreson and then hand them to me."
As if an automaton Johann stepped out of his shorts, slowly bent, grasped them, straightened and handed them to Wilkins. Wilkins tossed the shorts into the corner of the stage to join the other two pairs.
Elsewhere in this tale Johann, as, early in his first term at Thistletop School, he stood naked before Dr de Ville was described as follows.
"Before Dr de Ville was standing an entirely naked (disregarding the socks) fifteen year old boy. He was quite tall for his age, slender but with developing musculature and little trace of fat. His hair was Nordic blond. His eyes were ice blue. No other hair was visible on his body apart from some under his arms and that on his pubis. Around his genitals there was, for a boy of fifteen, a quite luxuriant growth of blond hair matching in colour that on his head. His penis was adult, rather than infantile, and about average size for a boy of his age. His scrotal sack was visible and housed testicles of respectable size both of which were hanging freely in the warmth of the room. He had a pronounced waist and distinctive hips though their proportions were much more consistent with those of a boy than of a girl. His skin was uniformly unblemished. There was a hint of a tan shadow where he would have been covered by bathers but it was unlikely that a boy so fair would tan well; most likely he would burn and thus have to be careful about sun exposure. From the rear it was clear that Johann had very well formed and rounded buttocks, almost girl-like but not grotesque in a boy of his build. Moreover they were obviously muscle rather than fat."
During the intervening months Johann had become noticeably taller. His body had fleshed out a little but he remained slim and his musculature was soft and rounded rather than the grotesque appearance of the body builder, no six-pack was evident on Johann's flat belly. Johann still had, and would for some time to come, the look of the youth about to become man but not quite there; that odd phase when the best of the male and female form co-exist. If anybody looking at him from the audience was musing about Johann's slightly feminine appearance where his smooth flanks tucked into his waist above the delightful outward bulge of his hips then they were disabused of all thoughts about femininity when their eyes wandered a little lower: Johann's penis was rigid and almost pressing against his lower belly; the foreskin was fully retracted and there was a slight glisten of dampness on the prepuce; further confirming rampant masculinity were two firm looking, quite sizeable, bulges to either side of the visible base of Johann's penis; these were Johann's near fully retracted testicles nestling for warmth against his lower abdomen, they were accentuated by the fact that Johann's taught, upright, penis was pulling the rest of his tackle slightly upwards and outwards from their nest of blonde pubic hair and, of course, the penis itself was not obstructing any of the view.
Miss Hodkins was thrilled. She was also horrified. She was definitely unsettled. Her gaze through the opera glasses fixated on a binocular pair of overlapping circles encompassing Johann's crotch. She mused to herself "So that's what the beast's like when roused." She was not alone in her fascination. The slight _s_e_x_ual ambiguity of Johann's body had caused stirrings in the trousers of many boys and, indeed, of several masters. This delicious confusion was about to become more pronounced.
Johann was ordered to turn and face the "stool" ready for his seemingly (he hoped as does any condemned man) long walk to the place of execution. By turning he presented his rear to the audience. This view has already been described but it has changed a little and all for the better.
From behind he had the appearance of an exceedingly attractive mid to late adolescent. His shoulders were extending: they were more accentuated than those of a woman but much less so than those of an adult male. His back was smooth and firm with his spine visible but not as evident as in a skinny youth. His scapulae were visible as outlines under a thin layer of taught flesh; they did not flay outwards as in a child or early adolescent. The curve to his waist was much more apparent and his hips were full. His bottom was protuberant and rounded in both the vertical and horizontal directions. Herein lay the ambiguity. Taken at a glance his bum could be that of a slim young woman. Looked at with more care it evidently was not: the flesh appeared soft yet firm, certainly not the softness of a layer of subcutaneous fat. Although muscular it was not the spare behind of a male athlete. Johann's behind was at a perfect point somewhere between the ideal for a young woman (which is not well suited in young males) and what is thought comely (by women and artists) in the adult male. The ambiguity that Johann aroused was not that of some prancing pansy nor that of the male who seeks to masquerade as a female. Johann appeared to be utterly male, completely normal male, yet he was truly beautiful. Indeed, his form would be considered beautiful by both males and females and I mean in the realm of abstraction rather than that of lust. Talking of lust, there is no doubt that Johann had unwittingly engendered it in the one female present and among many of the males from about his age and above. Most of the males having such feelings didn't acknowledge them consciously (_d_a_m_n_ Freud), they merely felt unsettled with a strange tinge of excitement which manifested mentally, and too their consternation, physically.
The view became dramatically more exciting when Johann's rear became animated. The motion arose from him following instructions to approach the "stool". Though he took only small faltering steps his glutei caused delicious ripples in his bottom. Several among the audience wished they could watch those ripples whilst Johann ran full tilt with a javelin in his right hand: others, those who knew what they really wanted, wished they could chase his naked form across a field, eventually catch up with him, push him to the ground and ....
After a seeming eternity (three seconds) Johann was standing before the "stool" and was ordered to kneel. It was then that the vista of beauty (anatomical excellence, something to lust after, call it what you will) opened out. As Johann knelt his glutei tightened; his bottom became rounder, more protuberant, wider. The transformation to perfection was completed when, after a prefect had briefly fiddled about with a hand in front of Johann's crotch, Johann was moved into his final bent over position. His buttocks were tight. They were well spread, Miss Hodkins could see his anus and the lower tips of his retracted testicles. Johann's buttocks were whitish pink and there was no sign of a blemish. The audience had seen two other, each in their own way very attractive, boys delivered into this position and fully appreciated it. Yet Johann transported their delight to another plane. Incidentally, if Dr de Ville had received any inkling of the thoughts going through the minds of the congregation he would have eschewed public birching immediately.
Johann had been unaware of the ideations, passions and lust that his naked presence on the stage had aroused. As his shorts were being taken down, as they snagged on his penis, as they were eased over his penis, as the waist band was stretched to allow passage over his hips, as they fell to the ground, Johann's thoughts dwelt on his utter humiliation. He didn't remember bending to pick up his shorts and handing them to Standish. He stood facing the audience whilst the Headmaster said something or other. He didn't see the audience properly as his vision was misted from a small up-welling of tears; he was not yet sobbing, no tears fell on his cheeks but the lachrymal duct that passes tears from the eye socket to the mouth was carrying a flow to its full capacity.
Johann's shattered thoughts were divided among several things: his stiff penis on public view, what was about to be done to his posterior, whether or not he could bear what was to come with a modicum of dignity, that he had let down Dr de Ville, and more importantly, Wilkins, and what his Mother would think of his behaviour if she ever knew (he fervently hoped that the Headmaster would not feel obliged to tell her.)
The Headmaster had stopped talking and Johann when bidden turned to face the dreadful "stool". Somehow it looked more fearful than the "horse" that Dr de Ville had once made him embrace.
Those steps to the base of the "stool" were the longest of his life: also, the shortest. He knelt when directed. He was kneeling and looking over the top of the smooth curving surface of an instrument designed to optimise the giving and receiving of pain. He knew that shortly he would be required to ease himself up a bit and then bend forward so that his chest was in contact with the wood. A strange thought arose unexpectedly; Smith has once told him of the naval practice of making midshipmen "kiss the gunner's daughter"; apparently they, naked too, would have to bend over the barrel of a great naval gun (presumably a 18 or 32 pounder). Finally, Johann understood what the "kissing" bit meant. This line of thought was suddenly obliterated when Johann felt a hand gently grasp his balls and the root of his penis and guide them into position as another hand toward the base of his back was urging him to move slowly forwards and upwards. This was a mortifying experience but Johann did have the presence of mind to realise that his tackle were more safely stowed though the end of his penis was in disconcertingly comfortable uncomfortable contact with whatever recess it now occupied. The physical contact of the tip of his penis with the wood somehow fully renewed the vigour of his erection which had been beginning to flag.
The wood under Johann's abdomen and chest felt cold and a little damp from sweat that its surface must have absorbed in the past few minutes. Johann's head was inclined downward at an angle of about forty five degrees, yet he couldn't see the bracing bar beyond the end of the slope of wood. He reached his arms forwards and downwards slightly from the distal end of the "horse" and found a thick, very solid, cylindrical and smooth bar of wood. He grasped the bar toward its left and right extremities. In this position the muscles in his arms and upper back were tensed. Another weird thought struck Johann: would this not be an ideal position, rather than at the grating, to place adult common seamen who were to be flogged on their backs? Then a horrific thought arose: surely, I am not to be beaten on the back with the birch? Almost reassuringly he realised that it was his tight, well spread, bottom which was to be the target. He felt a slight breeze washing around his buttocks and into his crevice; his anus twitched involuntarily from the caress of the air; he thought momentarily of caresses from Smith, half unwanted and sometimes leading to actions that were vicious; the thought evaporated as another arose. He was aware of hands resting lightly on his left and right shoulders. That on the right was caressing him gently. Johann knew instantly that it was not a caress of lustful intention. It was meant to ease his suffering, to show support. Then a realisation dawned on him that he would remember all his life: it was Wilkins' hand; Wilkins held no grudge; Wilkins had forgiven him his contribution to Wilkins' own pain; eight years later, this intuition was confirmed when Petreson and Wilkins spoke privately at a School reunion; that conversion allowed Johann to finally accept absolution for the sin for which he was being punished on this day.
Johann's position restricted his vision, yet he was aware that slightly forward and to his left a figure was withdrawing a birch from the barrel. He couldn't see which master it was but he saw the birch clearly as it rose dripping free of the vessel. It looked enormous, it was fearsome though doubtless little different from the two he had been forced to watch in action a few minutes ago.
The master disappeared from sight and Johann heard heavy footsteps receding to behind him. The footsteps stopped.
THE FOOTSTEPS HAVE STOPPED, Johann trembled visibly. There was not a sound. At that moment Johann finally realised, hope against hope, that this was it. There was not to be a sudden reprieve. Dr de Ville was not to unexpectedly announce "Petreson doesn't deserve to be birched after all, he shall be gated for six weeks instead." However, Johann knew that Petreson deserved to be birched: receiving just desserts and wanting them are different matters though. Johann couldn't see but he could picture; he had viewed two previous chastisements this day. Johann's mental image had the master standing behind him and a little to the right or to the left; he didn't know which master it was and thus couldn't be sure of right or left but he was certain it wasn't Dr de Ville who had stood once to the left and once to the right. The thought of the Headmaster sent Johann's fevered brain down a train of thought concerning the final two strokes. He had seen the final two strokes twice. He had heard their impact. He had seen the bodies of his friends thrust forcibly forward against the restraining "stool". He had heard their howls. However, he had the initial four strokes to contend with first and by all previous appearances they would be agonising whichever master delivered them. Johann's trembling increased. His grip of the wooden bar became almost painful. Yet the left hand on his shoulder was still relaxed and the right was continuing to give him reassuring caresses.
Suddenly Johann heard feet shuffle from behind, "Oh God let me be brave" he thought. A swishing sound. Instantly he tensed yet more. The grips on his shoulders hadn't increased. The swish ended. No contact. Johann felt tiny droplets of cool water fall on his lower back, buttocks and thighs. Then he remembered: this was the preparatory flex of the birch to divest it of excess liquid. He relaxed momentarily but then realised that the counting down clock of his fate was near to zero; the next sound from behind must presage his imminent agony. He couldn't stop trembling. His grip on the bar increased. He felt sweat break out on his back. He felt this was the lowest point of his life; it was about to get lower.
After Johann had stepped forward to stand before the audience the, now shorter, line of "stool fodder" had edged leftwards so that Melrose occupied the position vacated by Petreson. Melrose had been ordered to place his hands on his head. He was exceedingly morose. The two previous thrashings had affected him in different ways. The first had frightened him but it had excited him too. During the second the level of excitement had fallen markedly as the inevitability of his taking up that humiliating position struck home. As Petreson was being led to assume his position at the stool Melrose felt nothing other than the deepest trepidation. If he had been a member of the audience he would have thoroughly enjoyed the spectacle of Petreson, and the others too but particularly Petreson, being birched. Preying on his mind was the knowledge that he would receive two more strokes than Petreson. He knew that Atkins and Drummond had been pushed to the limits of what they could take with any semblance of fortitude: both had ended up screaming and being escorted, nay half carried, off the stage in a daze with tears streaming from their eyes. Melrose was almost emotionally conjoined with Petreson now. He watched with horror as the birch was extracted from the barrel. His eyes didn't leave the birch as it was carried to a position behind Petreson. He flinched sympathetically as the birch was suddenly flexed with a loud swish. He saw the droplets of water land on Petreson. Moments later he saw Petreson extrude his own water, in the form of sweat, down his back. He saw Petreson tremble despite the sheer, and obvious, tension in all the muscles of Petreson's arms, back and legs. Melrose's knees literally knocked. He moved his legs further apart. Suddenly, his eyes now fixated on the birch, he was aware that the instrument's wielder had adjusted his stance (a slight scuff of leather against the planking of the stage led to this inference.) The birch rose. It rose like Lucifer: the morning star. It rose as the devil's instrument set to strike Satan's anvil. It reached its apogee. Then unlike Lucifer it halted.
The prefects restraining Johann took the rise of Lucifer as their cue to increase their grip on his shoulders.
Melrose was now so beside himself that he could watch no more. He shut his eyes.
Johann had heard the slight scuffing sound from behind and knew what it predicted. He pressed himself yet harder against the "stool" as if to distance himself as much as possible from the thing that was about to ravage his bottom. His grip on the bar became painfully strong; every muscle in his body tensed further. His eyes closed involuntarily. In blackness he waited. His running thoughts had dissolved and then reconstituted into only one thing: an expectation of intense pain. Many expectations in his future life were not realised: this one would be.
Two witnesses are out of the frame. One with a ringside view has voluntarily tuned out. The other, the recipient, isn't really a witness as he couldn't see behind him even if his eyes were open. Who else do we have?
There is Miss Hodkins whose opera glasses are now glued, metaphorically, to Johann's bum. Unfortunately, the spinster is grossly overexcited. I, your author (who outranks you, don't ever forget), Oliver Pettigrew, have on several occasions entered the mind of that deranged female in order to ensure that my readers get reportage of the events from all angles. On this occasion that would be a step too far. I cannot countenance inhabiting, even for an instant, the psyche of a harridan, sitting in damp knickers, whose virginal nipples and clitoris are erect from an erotic pleasure she does not begin to comprehend. Incidentally, should I ever become professor of philosophy at a renowned academy such as the (Mickey Mouse) University of Luton (who there among the academic staff can spell filosofi?) I shall set my students an essay question thus: Does understanding a sado-erotic impulse's origins magnify its impact? – answers aspiring to first class honours level shall require numerous quotations from Pettigrew and Sade (particularly the former who is the greater thinker on such matters).
Fortunately, the audience is large. Let us flit through the minds of some (in mathematical logic [c. f. Bertie Russell] "some" means at least one but I may indulge you with more than one). For instance, Tom Hetherington. Tom, a previous recipient of the birch in public (surely you remember) is taking a somewhat professional interest in this affair. He has watched Atkins' and Drummond's flagellations with fascination. At each step of each punishment he has been able to empathise, he has been there himself. His fascination, apart from the memories it evoked involving himself, has been detached. Tom isn't particularly aroused by the sight of naked males or by the thrashing of their behinds. Yet when Johann turned around and started walking toward the "stool" Tom, like many in the audience, felt unsought, vaguely guilty, but pleasurable stirrings in his crotch. These intensified when Johann knelt and finally assumed his position. Before Tom was a nice expanse of tight, well-spread, muscular but soft looking pristine bum. As the master, now behind Johann, flexed the birch to rid it of water and then took his starting stance Tom felt a frisson, an anticipation, and, embarrassingly though not visible to anyone else, a damp feeling in his crotch.
This raises the issue of why the ritual of birching should arouse erotic thoughts. Learned men of science (charlatans to a man but nevertheless entertaining) tell us that amongst the apes and monkeys there is a hierarchical social structure: the dominant ape monkey [alpha male] and a cascade of lesser males (females don't figure in this sensible pre-Pankhurst social structure). In such societies there are various possible ways of maintaining the status quo. For instance, the alpha male and a contender fight it out until one is dead. Darwinian principles (Southern USA Creationist spanking enthusiasts please skip the next couple of sentences) suggest that unnecessary killing within a tribe is detrimental to the propagation of the genes of the tribe (bear in mind that they are kinfolk). Thus, a submission ritual by the defeated male suffices to maintain social stability and not wreck the chances that the defeated male's genes might one day be the only ones to propagate from the tribe. The defeated ape monkey demeans himself by presenting his bottom to the victorious ape monkey as if he were a female awaiting penetration; a position of utter submission and humiliation (to males, though females like it). Thus, it may be inferred that the human birching (caning, paddling, etc.) of the presented rear is a symbolic representation of a _s_e_x_ual penetration that has been transformed into humiliation and pain. The key point is that the victim has submitted. Hence the much less satisfaction to be gained by thrashing an unwilling recipient, though it has its pleasures when finally they are beaten (tortured, psychologically manipulated, etc.) into complete submission.
Another onlooker: Chapman. This youth was not enjoying the proceedings at all. He hated violence, he hated bullying and he hated being bullied. He was a victim of Smith. He felt no rancour toward Atkins, Drummond or Petreson. He thought Melrose and Thorpe deserved what was to come to them and he would be pleased to see Dobson humiliated. What he really wanted, and what sustained him through this lengthy prelude of incidental thrashings, was to see Smith reduced to bawling like a baby. He watched Petreson get into position. He watched the master ready the birch for its task. He was both disinterested and uninterested, all that mattered to him was Smith.
Adlington had been watching the proceedings with increasing interest and horror. He resolved never to do anything wicked while at Thistletop School, nothing that could deserve this. He and most of his classmates had not yet had a Friday evening encounter with Dr de Ville. Those few who had would, following the strict Thistletop tradition, say nothing of what had happened to them; the most they would say was that the experience was much, much, worse than anything that happened at preparatory school and more horrible than they had imagined beforehand. At first Adlington had thought this a wind up to make the boys who were as yet "virgins" more apprehensive. However, the tearful faces and pained expressions of boys returning from an appointment with the Headmaster and glimpses of their bums in the showers had convinced Adlington that the almost inevitable assignation with Dr de Ville should be postponed for as long as possible. Adlington had already received the cane from a master and had been slippered by a prefect, both experiences were bad enough. What had secretly concerned him about punishments from the Headmaster was that they would be on the bare behind as some had been at prep school though he had escaped those. Infuriatingly, nobody who had first hand experience would confirm or deny Adlington's suspicion. Today's theatrical demonstrated that Dr de Ville was not adverse to bare bottom flagellation and Adlington jumped to the correct conclusion about what he would encounter when the door of the Headmaster's study closed behind him at some unforeseen future time. Of course, Adlington remained clueless about the "horse" and the little rituals that made a tęte á tęte with Dr De Ville so unforgettable.
Johann's brain was running at a speeded up tempo and thus to him time was dilated; for instance, the moments between hearing feet shuffle and then hearing the birch flexed to remove excess fluid had seemed a near eternity, a duration filled with apprehension. Adlington perceived time flowing at its normal pace, if anything it seemed to pass more quickly as it does when one is immersed in something interesting; thus what was happening to Petreson he saw as a smooth flow of events, not a staccato series of jumps each of which was surrounded by a temporal void. He had seen Petreson step forward from his place in line to stand facing the audience. He had seen Petreson's shorts removed and Petreson bending to pick them up and hand them to Standish. He viewed Petreson standing naked before the audience while the Headmaster had confirmed the punishment: perhaps twenty to thirty seconds in all. He had watched Petreson turn and walk toward the "stool", kneel and get into position: perhaps fifteen seconds. Had seen the PE master rise from his seat, stroll to the barrel, select a birch and continue to a position behind Petreson: maybe fifteen second. He witnessed the master raise the birch high in the air and then swish it down forcibly such that many droplets of water dispersed around him: three to four seconds. He saw the master step back a pace or two, tense his body, raise the birch high and begin a swift downward swing aimed at Petreson's naked vulnerable buttocks: little over three seconds to resounding contact.
As with others who had assumed his unenviable position, Johann initially sensed nothing other than being thrust hard against the stool. In passing he was aware of extreme discomfort from the tip of his hard penis when it chaffed against the extremity of its enclosing space. That brief sensation was quickly overtaken by others. He became aware of the touch of numerous birch rods and twigs against his posterior, the birch was now splayed out and lying in contact with him for a few moments before the PE master began withdrawing it. It takes finite time for sensations transmitted from the skin to pass along nerves and be processed by the brain. Perhaps simple touch transmits faster than pain. That seems logical since pain is engendered by trauma and damage to tissue must take a little time to produce whatever chemicals it is that fire off pain receptors. Also, perhaps the sensations of hot and cold travel fast. Well regardless of speculation of mechanism the next sensation Johann felt was coldness wetness, after all the birch was still very damp. Johann had only just consciously acknowledged these feelings when the pain began to kick in.
There was nothing coy, nothing teasing, about this pain; it was no ache, that would come much later. Suddenly there was intense pain. It wasn't all then nothing. Rather it had an effervescent quality as of Champagne flowing from a well shaken bottle. It seemed to go on and on. Moreover, it was not confined to the area of contact. Johann's entire behind felt alight and the pain seemed to travel up his body to fill his whole being. This intensity and outflow lasted maybe microseconds but Johann's mind, working at a furious pace, had been aware of almost every nanosecond of this rushing inflow of agony. After the initial burst it took four or five seconds for the flash flood of agony to settle into mere pain. Johann, despite witnessing his comrades' misfortunes, had anticipated nothing as terrible as this. All previous beatings he had received, whether official or unofficial, paled into insignificance in comparison to this deluge.
While his body was slammed forward and the pain began rushing in Johann had reflexly gripped the bar so tightly that his hands hurt, though he hardly noticed this. His arm and shoulder muscles had become rigid knots and he pressed heavily upwards against the retraining hands. The upward motion was reinforced by the muscles in his bottom contracting and trying to propel his body to standing position. To stand is the natural, almost reflex, desire of any bent over youth when an instrument of punishment comes into hard contact with his behind. During less vicious punishments the miscreant is expected to use force of will to resist this natural temptation; requiring such is indeed part of the ritual of punishment. For a birching this is too much to expect, hence the restraining hands. These considerations also played a part in the devilish ritual of thrashings over the punishment horse by Dr de Ville: it was diabolical because no boy likes the humiliation of restraints, in this case straps, and in order to avoid them has to endure extra strokes and employ even more will power to remain passive and subservient; hence "Straps on or straps off, boy?"
Johann had not cried out, he was too surprised. He had exhaled suddenly and his intake of breath was rasping; this was followed by audible short sharp intakes and exhalations as Johann strove to come to terms with his pain.
Melrose, who was next in line for a visit to the birching stool, visibly flinched when the birch made contact with Johann's hitherto pristine rump. He was now standing in a position where he could see the full expanse of both Johann's buttocks. Apart from the master wielding the instrument his position was the best in the house to view the action, a veritable ringside seat (or more accurately, standing position). He took in everything: the trajectory of the still dripping birch, contact, Johann seemingly moving forward from the momentum imparted though in truth Johann had nowhere to go, the slow withdrawal of the birch and the beginnings of vivid striations on Johann's behind, Johann's muscular contractions, and the rasping of Johann's breath. By the time the master had returned to his starting position and begun readying himself for the next blow Melrose could see that the middle third of Johann's buttocks had become bright red. Although the reddened section was obvious there was not a sharp cut-off from the upper and lower thirds of Johann's buttocks; the birch twigs had splayed on contact and traceries of red were evident in the upper and lower regions. Also, as the PE master was right handed the distal end of the birch (all the birches used thus far seemed to Melrose, no expert in the matter, to be very long) had landed on the side facing Melrose. The startled youth could see that the tip had bent around the side of Johann's right buttock leaving clear marks leading toward the inner thigh. Only Johann's intimate contact with the back of the "stool" had prevented wayward twigs from caressing the contents of Johann's crotch.
Thorpe, standing just to the right of Melrose, didn't get such a comprehensive view but from what he could see of Johann's right buttock he knew that experience of the birch, when it was his turn, would be devastating. He couldn't stop trembling.
Dobson was sobbing quietly to himself.
Smith, now at the lowest ebb ever in his life, just wanted to get it over with. He knew that procrastination or other delay just piled on the agony of anticipation. He was now so anxious to bring his ordeal to an end that he resented the measured pace of the event; he almost wanted to shout out to the PE master as he stepped in a dignified manner back to his starting position "Hurry up, get on with it!"
As the PE master scrutinised Johann to ascertain whether he was ready for another blow, i. e. whether his breathing was more regular and his hitherto taught muscles more relaxed, Johann was aware that the initial onslaught of pain had diminished such that he could think again. He forced himself to relax a little and the grips on his shoulders eased to mere touching. He listened out for the tell tale signs that the next blow was coming. He heard the soft scuffing noise as the PE master readied his position. He gripped the bar more tightly. He heard sudden movement, a swish. The hands on his shoulders pressed with greater force but still gently. Contact.
Although Johann did not articulate it to himself in these terms he rapidly became aware that birch blows are not simply additive in effect: the accumulating effect of two blows lies somewhere between additive and multiplicative but nearer to the former. Its interesting to speculate whether this phenomenon holds true further along the scale of a punishment. For instance, is the effect of the twelfth blow even greater than additive over the eleventh, just additive, or through some accumulating numbing effect (physical and mental) less than additive? The question becomes even more fascinating if one tries to distinguish the additional effects on the momentary intense pain and the additional effects on the overall cumulative experience as savoured, say, an hour later. Are twelve blows more or less than twice as bad as six blows? The answer to this is, of course, relevant to the disciplinarian. It might be more effective to administer two doses of six on separate occasions, and also to be taken account of is the fact that the less tangible humiliation aspect, which may be taken as constant throughout a single birching, might be doubled. Dobson and Smith would unwillingly find out the answers to some of these questions. Perhaps these two should be regarded as intrepid explorers across the boundaries of pain.
The second blow landed with a resounding damp thwack across the lower third of Johann's buttocks. However, there was considerable overlap on the backs of his upper thighs and the upper area already covered. The pain, though expected, was almost unbearably worse. Indeed, it was sufficiently unbearable that Johann had no option but to shout a loud "Ow!" followed by rapid breathing and an almost inaudible "Oh, oh, no, no, please God no."
The next two blows landed just as hard. Between the third and fourth the PE master waited a little longer as it was obvious that Johann was finding it difficult to come to terms with the pain. On the third blow his yell was a strident protracted "Owww!". He took longer to return to any semblance of a relaxed position. He had tried to rear up much more forcibly and had succeeded in raising his body to ninety five degrees before hitting an implacable barrier imposed by the restraining prefects.
After the fourth blow Johann has cried out less loudly than after the third but it was evident from his breathing and muscular tension that its effect on him had been no less than the previous one. This time after attempting to rear a little he immediately slumped down and moaned softly to himself. It was as if he previously had been fighting against his ordeal but now he was beginning passively to accept it. The accumulating lower level pain, that between blows, had reached an increasing pitch as gradually the effects of the saline kicked in. Melrose, and Miss Hodkins through her opera glasses, could see muscular twitches on Johann's behind; each twitch seemed to correlate with a low moan from Johann. Though Melrose gloomily noted the phenomenon he didn't have any inkling as to its cause.
Between the fourth and fifth blows Johann had much longer to compose himself. Somewhere at the back of his near-addled mind he noted that the PE master was walking away from him. He heard the master say "Headmaster". He heard a chair scrape followed by the measured tread of the Headmaster towards his bowling crease.
Dr de Ville viewed Johann's damaged rump with great regret. He noted that the youth was in some distress, a little more than the others at this stage of the proceedings. Much to Smith's intense annoyance the Headmaster waited a full minute until Johann was visibly more composed. There was some fidgeting among the audience and the Headmaster cast angry stares in the directions of the perpetrators. Absolute silence was restored before the Headmaster raised his left hand to administer the penultimate blow of Johann's ordeal. In the Headmaster's mind there was absolute certainty that Petreson must receive no less a beating than any of the other boys even though this distressed the Headmaster greatly.
The Headmaster's delay in administering the fifth stroke had indeed given Johann opportunity to physically compose himself, yet it had added greatly to his anxiety. By now Johann had a pretty good idea of how long it took to receive a blow once the flogger was at his station. He knew that the Headmaster was at his position. The likely time to hearing the scuff of a shoe and the swish of the birch passed. The time doubled. All Johann could hear was some coughing from the audience down below. The coughing seemed to instantly cut off in mid-cough. Absolute silence. Time crept on. Still nothing, no indication of when his torment would resume. What's more Johann knew from having witnessed it that these final blows would the toughest to bear. He was trembling.
A scuffing sound of someone shifting position behind him. A couple of quick steps during which the swish of the birch started. The hands on his shoulders pressed down very firmly. Johann's grip on the bar tightened. He sucked in a deep breath. He closed his eyes. An instant later, a long time to Johann, there was contact. Johann was thrust forward more forcibly than ever before.
Johann was immediately aware that this time the blow was different. Not only was it harder but also it came from the opposite side and somehow managed to engage areas of his taught buttocks hitherto relatively little scathed. The highly flexible end of the birch became acquainted with virgin territory on Johann's left flank. It took the briefest of moments for searing pain to trump the continuous, but more muted, agony that throbbed between blows. Johann's lungs collapsed rapidly from a massive exhalation of air which powered a loud, anguished scream. Johann's hand, arm, chest, abdominal and leg muscles almost instantly collapsed from rigidity to slack torpor. If the "stool" were not keeping his body in position he would have collapsed to the floor in an un-co-ordinated heap. He felt light headed, his sight dimmed and was spared from fainting outright only because he was in a head down position. The pain he had borne was marginally less than that his brain could endure without temporarily shutting down.
Nobody noticed Johann's near faint though his pathetically collapsed state was obvious to all. Even those at the back of the hall could not fail to miss Johann's rasping intakes and exhalations of air before he subsided into clearly audible moans interspersed by sobbing. Almost everybody present felt sorry for Johann though very few felt that he had not deserved his fate.
What had caught the attention of those whose eyes were not fixated solely on Johann's taught and widely stretched bum was the near collapse of Melrose as Dr de Ville's swing of the birch crashed resoundingly home.
Throughout Johann's punishment Melrose's anxiety had been mounting. Before the fifth blow of the birch commenced its trajectory his anxiety was manifest not just psychologically but physically too: an unpleasant tense feeling in his chest and abdomen accompanied by almost uncontrollable shaking. At the moment that the fifth blow slammed into Johann's bottom the accelerating tension coupled with a conscious calculation by Melrose that he couldn't stand this yet alone extra blows almost made his mind and body seek the escape clause of unconsciousness: the human equivalent of an ostrich burying its head in the sand. Melrose started to swoon and would have collapsed to the floor had not Thorpe, standing beside him, quickly cradled Melrose's shoulders. That contact and physical steadying allowed Melrose to recover himself. Thorpe quickly withdrew before anyone could comment. Thorpe himself was feeling pretty dreadful but he hadn't viewed quite the expanse of traumatised backside that Melrose could see. It would be his turn in the ringside seat soon.
Adlington, seated at the back of the hall, had begun the afternoon's proceedings with a sense of curiosity and later some elation. However, by the time Johann, the third to be punished thus far, had received his third stroke Adlington felt horror and fear. He knew that he too might one day be victim of this cruelty; what could a boy do to deserve such pain? He knew that though he would never willingly do anything that would result in such punishment it was all too easy to stumble into it as Atkins, Drummond and Petreson had. He had no sympathy for the others whose chastisement was yet to come but he now knew that there was nothing to guarantee him immunity even though he would try to stay out of serious trouble. When the fifth stroke was about to crash down he resolutely shut his eyes and kept them closed until after Petreson was finally released from the "stool". This tactic eased Adlington's anxieties only slightly because when one's eyes are closed one concentrates more acutely on the input from other senses, particularly hearing. What's more, one's brain, whether one desires it or no, insists on trying to fill in the details the eyes, if used, would have been able to supply. To Adlington the crash of contact seemed louder than before. Moreover, he could hear Petreson's every breath, every groan, every sob let alone the seemingly ear shattering scream that had preceded them. Adlington squirmed on his seat, his bum experiencing fantasy sympathy pains; of course, he had no true comprehension of what the reality was, all he knew was what it looked and sounded like yet that was bad enough.
Miss Hodkins had little of the maternal about her because it had never been given an opportunity to manifest. Nevertheless, her feelings were now mixed. On the one hand she was greatly enjoying viewing naked youths, and seeing them thrashed gave her a frisson she had not wholly anticipated. On the other hand, she felt this was bordering on cruelty, particularly with that beautiful boy Petreson. Perhaps, not all boys had the same threshold of pain? Perhaps, in Petreson's case, he had received more than enough to make a lasting point? Setting aside a few notorious examples, Hindley and West come to mind, women find cruelty, even necessary seeming cruelty such as this, less tolerable then men. After noting her concerns and mentally filing them away, Miss Hodkins settled down to enjoy the rest of the spectacle; she was really looking forward to the star turn: Smith.
Mr Watkins, bachelor teacher of Latin and Greek, had a soft spot (the most he could consciously admit to himself) for Petreson. Sitting in his front row seat below the stage he had watched with fascination as Atkins and Drummond were birched. Their bodies were exquisite, fitting objects for a lover of the ancient world to view. Their pain reminded him of Sparta, how youthful agony is necessary for the warrior to emerge. He thought it was a pity that the ancient Greek custom of putting adolescent boys into the care of an older man, a "friend", had lapsed; how much better today's youth would be if they were placed into the hands of mentors who could instil discipline, broaden their minds and act as midwives to emerging _s_e_x_uality. Oh, there was much that the ancients knew that had been lost since Christianity had burst on the scene, repressed natural male passions and introduced the notions of guilt, confession and repentance.
When Atkins had revealed his all, and particularly when he had turned for his few steps to the "stool", Mr Watkins had felt a stirring below. When Drummond had done likewise the "stirring" had progressed to something much more tangible but still manageable. When it was Petreson's turn Mr Watkins had experienced a near full erection. He had felt immensely embarrassed and had placed his hands coyly on his lap lest his feelings become apparent to his colleagues; he noted at the back of his mind, not making much of it at the time, that several of his colleagues had adopted the same demure posture as himself. Petreson's appearance bent over the "stool" had, despite Mr Watkin's best efforts to the contrary, induced a full, utterly hard erection; Mr Watkins had had to restrain himself from gasping. Each stroke of the birch had fired up Mr Watkin's passion a notch further. The fifth stroke had provoked full, and prolonged, ejaculation despite the fact that Mr Watkins had given his member no physical stimulation. Fortunately, none of his colleagues were looking his way when he gave a stifled gasp and his facial and neck muscles twitched. The dampness was an embarrassment and he wondered how he was going to leave the hall later without drawing attention to himself. Mr Watkins need not have worried as by then there would be many boys and quite a few masters in a similar predicament; even Miss Hodkins would be perturbed by the damp patch she had left behind on her chair.
Schoolboys are capable of the most beastly things. Three fourth form boys, who were members of an informal mutual wanking club, something whose existence might likely lead to the birch or at least a very nasty appointment with Dr de Ville's "horse", were sitting in the back row of the main hall (not in the balcony) on the far left side (facing the stage). There was nobody else in their row up to where the row broke for an aisle to one set of main doors. There was nobody in the three next seats in the continuation of that row. Thus, these boys were alone and effectively unobserved. The gloom in the main body of the hall consequent on the fact that only the stage lights were lit helped these boys to remain inconspicuous. It also helped that throughout the proceedings everyone's attention was directed toward the podium rather than their fellows.
As soon as the doors had opened and the miscreants had began jogging toward the stage along the aisle at the right hand side of the hall these boys had each started unbuttoning the flies on their trousers and extracting their penes. Atkin's exposure soon got the three penes excited. The boy in the middle used his left and right hands to give his neighbours encouragement, fondling his comrades penes and balls. Those to his left and right took turns in reciprocating. All three achieved, almost simultaneously, for such is the benefit of practice in a club, ejaculation when Atkins yelled after his fourth stroke.
The resilience of youth, much envied by elderly men who have to resort to Viagra, is such that all three penes were fully erect again by the time Drummond was bent on the "stool" and ejaculation was achieved when he received his final stroke.
Remarkably, the mere sight of Petreson's shorts being removed was enough to get the penes back in business again. The trio of ejaculations occurred just as the fifth stroke landed and Johann collapsed almost unconscious. It is not your author's (remember he outranks you) intention to give you a blow by blow account of the achievements of these three intrepid masturbators as the show moved towards its climax with Smith. Suffice it to say that the three boys achieved satisfying ejaculations during the birching of each of the miscreants. At the end of the proceedings each was to be highly content and, as the saying goes, "shagged out". Such is the staying-power of youth. Of course there was some mess left behind which caused momentary consternation for one of the school's cleaners(a female from the Pilchard clan), but cleaners should expect such because that is why they hold lowly positions in the greater cosmic scheme of things.
Hetherington, the nearest thing to a professional at this event (apart from Dr de Ville who was truly professional) was shocked by Petreson's beating. It was clear to him that the boy had taken as much as he could. He didn't doubt that Petreson deserved it but he wished it were possible to titrate pain according to the ability of the subject to take it. His heart went out to Petreson. He knew what his suffering was. He too had deserved what he got but he felt that he had been better able to receive it. Hetherington consoled himself with the knowledge that Petreson had to endure only one more stroke of the birch.
Smith was getting agitated. The Headmaster had taken an age before administering his first stroke to Petreson. Now he was procrastinating again. The Headmaster had returned to his starting position but he was just standing there gazing at Petreson's bum. Smith definitely wanted to get to the "stool" and get it over with. Every wasted second added an indefinable increment to his own agony of anticipation.
Dobson's mental processes had somehow overcome the dead weight of his fear and self-pity. He was more fully aware of what was happening around him. His sobbing ceased. He was now able to make the simple calculation that only two boys, discounting Petreson who was soon to be released, stood before him and his ordeal. His mind happily entertained the contradictory thoughts of wanting it over and done with as soon as possible and desiring time to stop for the rest of eternity.
Dr de Ville judged that Petreson was ready to receive the final stroke. His opinion was based on the fact that Petreson no longer looked like a limp rag doll, there was evidence that Petreson was readying himself for the last step of his ordeal: there were signs of muscles tensing. The Headmaster did something unanticipated by the audience. He stepped forward, bent and whispered in Petreson's ear "Johann, you have taken your punishment well. You must bear with one more stroke and then it will be over. Please ready yourself."
The Headmaster stepped back to his bowling crease. Johann had taken in the Headmaster's words and somehow they gave him comfort and hope. He tensed his body in readiness and gripped the bar hard. He waited.
Again the familiar scuff of shoe against floor. The hands on his shoulders pressed more firmly. The quick steps. The swish. The thrust forward, seemingly harder than before (Dr de Ville was kindly but he was making no concessions). Agony. A piecing scream, his, was it his? He slumped forward even more limply than before. A blackening of vision but no swoon. Johann lay in his intimate embrace of the "stool". His feelings were divided: on one hand agony to be endured until it subsided to the substratum of pain that had increased with each stroke, on the other relief "its over." Johann sobbed.
The prefects removed their hands and left Johann as he was, limp and sobbing, for twenty seconds, then they gently placed their arms around his shoulders to encourage him to stand. Slowly, ever so slowly, Johann, with support, began to stand. In trying to do so the flexure of the muscles in his bottom and thighs caused waves of agony. Johann vaguely realised that though the episodes of acute pain were past there would be pulsing agony in his behind for some time to come, perhaps it would be days before his pain subsided to mere discomfort such as might be experienced an hour after being slippered hard on gym shorts twelve times by a prefect, or three or four hours after being caned eight times on the trousered bottom by a master. Despite the pain one thought began to reach dominance "It is over". Then another thought came. It wasn't over. He was to be on report. Dr de Ville would have him naked over the punishment horse, for the foreseeable future, for the slightest infraction, but surely nothing could be worse than the birch, nothing could be worse than the humiliation of receiving punishment totally bare before an audience of masters and his peers? While those thoughts were developing Johann was allowing himself to be led, supported by two prefects else he would collapse, towards the steps leading down from the stage.
To be continued. (All commercial rights in the Thistletop stories reside with the author.)