This story is fiction and deals with m/m spanking and sex. If such subjects are offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please leave now. This story is a continuation of Head Boy and the New Master and it will make better sense if you read that first. Of course, you should also read part 1 of this tale.
Thanks once again to Mike Ward who helped me with British idioms and details. The narrator is speaking of events prior to 1965 when CP was much more common and we did not worry about STDs. So, consequently, my characters are not concerned about them and don't use condoms as you should now.
This work is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission. Personal/private copies are permitted only if complete including the copyright notice.
The author would appreciate your comments – pro and con, including constructive criticism, and suggestions.
It only took a week for Stuart and me to mess up sufficiently for Pridaux to cane us both. After his guests had left, the pair of us stood listening to one angry Head Boy, flexing his cane, telling us how inadequate and stupid and lazy we both were. It did not help one tiny bit that we were in short trousers (a bit tight) and holding our school-caps like when we were first formers. Truthfully, it really was not that big of a muck up but Pridaux wanted us to have an object lesson and liked to swish. Eventually he finished and just stared at us.
Stuart spoke. "Pridaux, we have been awfully bad and should be soundly swished. Shall we strip now for our well-deserved punishment?" We knew that Pridaux liked 'volunteers'.
He agreed and we stripped completely for we knew the protocol. It was then that we got a big surprise. As Pridaux handed the cane to me, he said: "You will cane each other and you shall do it hard." I was more than thrilled – the opportunity to cane another boy. I did not let the reality that I would have to swap positions with Stuart very shortly reduce my pleasure one iota. It took me a very long time to understand that Pridaux was using me and then would use Stuart as mere tools – an extension of the cane if you will – and could enjoy it just as much. He did not actually have to raise his arm to get the cane to sear our bums but could do it by direction.
Stuart got into position and I quickly got into mine. I raised the cane and brought it down hard. It made a lovely sound and left a nice track. I think I did it as hard as Pridaux. I continued with the remaining five. Each one was a solid cut and I'm sure Pridaux was satisfied. He told Stuart to get up and he took the cane from me. He tapped my erection with the cane saying: "It looks like you enjoyed that, Brine. Let's see if Harrison can change things."
Stuart took the cane and I assumed the position. It was not what I wanted to do, but it was time to pay for my pleasure. Stuart tested the position and gave me the first cut. It hurt a little bit but nowhere like Pridaux's. I was able to keep silent and appear stoic. The other five were about the same and this was the very first caning that I remained absolutely silent. Pridaux checked our bums and told Stuart that he had not hit hard enough and to resume the position so that I could demonstrate with the rod. Although my woodie had softened while I was bent over, it immediately recovered. I knew that Stuart had been rogered just as I had been so I used my own rod on him rather than give him extras. I thought that it was my right. Pridaux certainly could have stopped me had he wanted to but he would not have done anything else because that would have gotten him in trouble also. He did something I did not expect however. As I humped away, he came up behind me and drove his rod deep into my hole.© YLeeCoyote
It was most memorable sandwich I ever had!
The downside was that I had to teach Stuart how to cane properly. I was given two weeks to do the job and if Stuart could not do a proper job, Pridaux would show him and have him practice on my backside. You can bet that I was well motivated and, in fairness, Stuart was a good pupil. A couple of weeks later, Stuart caned me while Pridaux watched and approved. He, of course, shafted me like I had him. It was fair.
While we worked together, Stuart and I became best mates. We both wanted to be the best in everything we did and competed fiercely but now, because of our mutual goals, as sportsmen rather than as warriors. I confided in him about our errant arts master and we worked together on how to get to cane that adult wimp's ass. It was clear from the way Howlett moved in class that he was getting it from someone. Perhaps Pridaux; perhaps someone else in the school or in town. We became spies. Howlett showed the most indicators on Monday so it was Sunday evening that we concentrated on. In some ways that was the best day for prep was informal allowing us to move about more easily.
We were lucky the second week. We saw Howlett go to his rooms and a few minutes later one of the ground keepers, Mr. Jones, went in. We snuck around the building and slipped into the high bushes by his bedroom window. Lady luck certainly was with us for the window was open three inches at the bottom. Although the curtains had been drawn, we still could see into the room as they were not blackout curtains. It turned out to be a great show.
"Laddie," roared the uncouth, rough Jones in his heavy Scottish brogue, "not only did you bunk off today but you skipped your chores. Get those clothes off immediately. We had ringside seats for this show. As Howlett stripped, Jones removed his jacket and picked up a heavy tawse from the table.
"Please father, please don't beat me." Howlett begged. Of course, that was their script but I think he really meant it. Regardless, he turned and lay on the bed with his bottom up. Jones lectured him some but without conviction as he used the tawse. The strokes were hard and I lost count at twenty. There was not any doubt that Howlett's bottom was as red as a ripe tomato and he howled for every whack.
Eventually, Jones stopped and pulled the crying Howlett from the bed to his knees. Jones opened his trousers and extracted a hard fat cock which he shoved into Howlett's maw. "Get it good and wet, laddie." he snarled. Howlett evidently complied. Still roughly, Jones stopped Hewlett and threw him onto the bed and mounted him like a beast. Howlett yelled but Jones had his way with him. When he was done, he pulled out and wiped his cock clean with Howlett's vest. We made our departure as quietly as we came and were well away from the house when Jones left.
The show was far more than I had expected. Stuart and I went down to the deserted pitch and we each wanked off three times in the loo. Stuart had brought his camera and taken a few pictures which we would process later being extremely careful not to let anyone else see them. But what we did not know was if Pridaux knew about Howlett – had Mills-ffleming told him? If so was he having his own fun with the naughty master?
I wrote to Mills-ffleming to ask and he said he did not tell and strongly advised against doing anything because of the great dangers. We took his advice – until the accident.
I didn't know anything about the accident except that Mr. Jones was killed. It did not affect the school in any significant way as another man soon replaced him. Stuart and I wondered about Howlett – was he getting the whippings he 'deserved' and obviously craved? He no longer showed any signs in his classes and it was well known that he rarely left the school grounds. After long discussions we decided to act.
One Sunday, at the same time we had seen Jones visit, we knocked on his door. When he responded, we politely asked if we could speak with him on an important matter. He was too surprised to refuse or even suggest a better time. In his sitting room, we stated that we knew how much he missed Mr. Jones. He looked surprised and we assured him that we were not going to tell but had come with the hope that we could help him with his loss.
"We are neither as big nor strong as Mr. Jones, but we do know how to deal with a naughty boy." said Stuart simply and most directly.
"You are a naughty laddie that needs to be dealt with." I said. After a few minutes of thick silence I added. "I'm sure that you remember."
"Just one word and we'll leave." said Stuart trying to put him at ease.
At long last he spoke. "Why?"
It was a hard question. "Because we think we'll all have fun."
We sat in silence for at least five minutes when Stuart spoke up. "There are several games we can play: dad and insolent boy; head and naughty schoolboy; prefects and naughty schoolboy; cop and shoplifting boy; bullies and wimp; hoods and poofter. Just say what you'll like, Julian." It was an absolutely brilliant gambit. Howlett's eyes glazed over; he was hooked. Surely he wished that he had ejected us immediately but now his need to be thrashed was taking him over. He was even sweating. "You know that you want to; that you must, laddie." pressed Stuart.
I waited a minute and spoke. "Stuart, I guess we were wrong and should leave." We both got up and headed for the door.
We were about to apologize but then Howlett spoke. "Wait. Please wait." He had consented although it was not clear to what. "Prefects. In there." he pointed to a cupboard. I opened it and saw that there were lots of things that could be used. I selected the tawse and Stuart, a senior cane. We were both grinning.
"Howlett," I snapped, "Your conduct has been totally unacceptable. You shall be strapped. Get your clothes off and bend over the chair. Immediately, laddie." He jumped up and stripped. I felt ever so powerful and Stuart told me that he had also. He was not a wondrous figure to behold – he was just thirty and already had the start of a potbelly. No matter, for we were interested in his rear end. When he bent over the chair, there was a huge expanse of flesh – plenty for the two of us to thrash.
I gave him ten good strokes with the tawse. For each of them he yelled. He always yelled. It felt really good to watch his bottom turn red like that of a little boy being spanked or slippered. Stuart gave him six cuts. I had instructed him very well and they were good and hard especially since they were with a senior cane. Howlett started to get up but I snapped at him to remain in position. Stuart had opened his trousers and taken out his rod. I watched as he just stepped up to Howlett and rammed in. The wimp made his usual noises but Stuart began to pound him good and hard.
As you can imagine I did not have room in my pants for my own hard rod and had extracted it. It was hard to decide which way I should go. I decided not to wait for Stuart to finish but grabbed Howlett's hair to raise up his head. My rod was not nearly as big as Jones' but Howlett licked his lips when he saw it right in front of him. He opened his mouth and I filled it up. He knew what he was doing and it was wonderful. I soon fed him a large and tasty snack about the same time that Stuart was filling him up with his spunk at his other end
"Back into position, laddie." barked Stuart, "you got another three to go." He whined a bit but Stuart snarled and he resumed position. There was room for another three cuts and Stuart used it well.
We dressed and left – very pleased with ourselves. We decided that we would not use the pictures so we wrapped them carefully and hid them in one of the attics just in case we needed them.
In a strange way we actually got well paid for our fagging duties although not in money but by being privy to a lot of the day to day things that a Head Boy must deal with. We never were permitted to be part of discussions he had with the masters or prefects but we were allowed to eavesdrop a lot. Then Pridaux would talk to us about it. We learned balance, which some call wisdom.
By the end of the year we even discovered that our joint office forcing us to be friends and to work together had prevented us from dividing our form into two warring factions. Wearing shorts which pleased Pridaux stopped being an issue since Stuart and I both did at times. (Incidentally, so did the other fags.) We let it become a sign of honour, sort of like being the Praetorian Guard or the special forces. The third form had the best cohesiveness in decades according to the school historian. At the end of the year, Stuart and I were informed that the school expected us to continue our great cooperation the following year and we would get some special consideration and titles (yet to be decided).
We paid one more visit to Howlett before the summer holiday. We played a long time, of course, enjoying a great session and then gave him the prints and the negatives suggesting that he might enjoy them as a keepsake.
© Copyright A.I.L., June 20, 2007
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Last updated: September 15, 2023