It appears that you are NOT on the Coyote’s Den website.  If you are using a proxy or an archive this is probably what you want so just continue although some functions and formatting may be inoperative.

To escape porn hijackers COPY the real URL into your browser address bar.
Sorry, not clickable.

The following story is fiction about Hallowe'en spankings with a birch.  If this subject is offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please leave now.  You can find part 1 at HalloweenBetrayal.html

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.  Please take a moment to email.

Hallowe'en Betrayal – Part 2/2


Dear Corporal Robinson,

My dear brother you won't believe how proud our folks are that you got promoted to corporal.  Truth be told, I am also proud of you.

I don't suppose there were any kids trick or treating nor time for a party at your base so you probably missed the holiday fun.  I hope that you will be proud of how I helped keep the old birching schoolmaster tale alive and well.  Of course, I had much, although unknowing, help from that bully Trent and a few others still in the lower class.  Drake and David, who are in the upper class with me, assisted in the field operation.  Since they are only fifteen they will be able to carry on the tradition next year.

This is how it all went down last night.

This morning we were delighted to hear both Drake and Trent boast and complain about getting their sorry butts birched at the cemetery Hallowe'en eve.© YLeeCoyote

Well the three of us were there hoping some of the silly kids would show up on dares to visit the legendary birching schoolmaster of years ago.  We were there to help keep the legend alive and, more importantly, get to birch some little smart asses.  It may be that ghosts are portrayed in white sheets but we were in dull black with matching faces to blend into the dark of night just like you taught me.  (Guess it was terribly familiar when they taught you how to dress for night raids in boot camp.)  We got there early so we could wait deep in the cemetery although we were near the critical grave site.

It was a pretty quiet night and we were worrying that we would be disappointed.  Then we heard Trent and his buds coming.  They did not actually come to the cemetery but stayed up by the fork where the short spur leads to the gate.  When the first got there, they were talking loud so we just listened to them.  It soon became evident that they were laying a trap for Drake who they hoped would be taking this road after he delivered some bundles for his mother.  Actually, they had a good plan with some black cloth they stretched across the road to force Drake to head our way when he was confused by the invisible barrier.  There were a half dozen of them so we kept well hidden.

Evidently, they posted a look out for when we heard a fake owl call they immediately got very quiet.  A victim was approaching although we could not be sure it was Drake at that time.  Well, it was Drake and within five minutes they had pounced and gotten him to the ground.  Then we heard new sounds when they used the birch on him.  Boy, did he howl!  I think that he scared the coyotes for they stopped their howling at the new moon.

It did not take very long before they stopped and withdrew leaving a very unhappy Drake.  He must have pulled up his pants and hauled ass out of there as fast as he dare to go in the dark.

Then we heard Trent and his pack once again.  Always the braggart, Trent said he wanted to "thank" the old birching schoolmaster for making this all possible.  My buds and I were now hopeful we would get our turn.  All of them insisted that there were not any sort of things as ghosts so that to thank them was totally stupid.  Trent called them cowards and said he was going alone.  We were excited with anticipation.

We were not certain that Trent knew which grave so we stayed back until he thanked the non-entity.  As he spoke it was all we could do to keep from laughing as he said his sarcastic prayers.  He was so funny for he was thanking a non-entity for its help.  Definitely an irrational thing to do.

When he stood up we jumped him smothering him with the thick shipping pad around his torso and head.  That was like we tied him up and through the thick folds he could not feel our hands.  (We had tested that before.)  We were sure he was disoriented as we removed his britches and bent him over the schoolmaster's own tombstone.  Of course, we were all silent having practiced carefully except for a few hoots and howls.  Even this part was great fun.

Boy, did he howl when we let him have it.  Even muffled by the thick pad, he was loud.  We gave him a half dozen.  We would have done more but we did not want to injure him.  While he was still confused, we yanked off the pad and faded into the dark like good warriors.

It was great fun in the morning when Drake and Trent told of their painful experiences.  We just smiled as the old wise men and let the little kids wonder.  Then later, Trent's buds 'fessed up to birching Drake when Trent insisted that he had gotten it from the ghost of the legendary birching schoolmaster since nobody else was about.  "You cowards ran home." he retorted.  They razed him for believing in ghosts at thirteen like a little kid.

Me, I'm delighted at how this all worked out.  Even through I will be out of school, I'm sure that Drake and David can recruit a couple of guys to teach next year's smart ass brats about ghosts and birches.

Much love,

Your Little Brother

The End

© Copyright A.I.L. October 31, 2011

Your comments are appreciated.     Male Stories (without sex)     Main Directory

The URL for this page is:

Last updated:  September 15, 2023