A Submissive Schooled and More

Movement was impossible -- Jim was utterly at Mr. Mallon's merciless, savage pleasure.

A large colour TV screen in front of Jim, next to the floor, was switched on. "You're looking at your own ass, filling the screen," crowed Mr. Mallon with delight. "You'll be able to see each lash as it lands, and each welt as they are left imprinted." Jim could see clearly his two cheeks, with the dark rosebud of his puckered asshole, and his balls hanging below.

"Make all the noise you want," Mr. Mallon suggested, closing the heavy door, "the walls are lined with cork, and the room is soundproof. I hope you're comfortable, because soon you won't be. I'm using on you a special horsewhip that has been soaked in a mixture of lemon juice and cayenne pepper, so as you receive each lash it will sting more fiercely, and the marks will be more prominent and will last longer. This is the punishment for smoking. You must count each stroke and promise to smoke no more. Ready?"

Jim took a deep breath, swallowed hard, and nodded. Mr. Mallon took hold of his heavy braided horsewhip, flailed it through the air over Jim for a couple of practice swings, and then laid into him with a force that took Jim's breath away! When he recovered, he gasped,"one, sir, I will not smoke again." Again, Mr. Mallon flailed the whip a couple of times, then WHAM! he tore into Jim's buttocks a half inch or so below the first lash. After a long scream with mouth closed, Jim gasped, "two, sir, I will not smoke again", and I waited for the heavy whip to descend again. As each blow of the whip was felt Jim could see on the TV, as well as feel, the results imprinted on the cheeks of his ass. SLASH!! His resolve of silence collapsed, as he screamed "GAAAGH!! OOOHH!!" and then "th-three sir, I will not smoke again." The next seven strokes were inflicted with the same stunning force, each one a half inch or so below the last, and each was followed, when Jim could stop shrieking and crying, with the same vow not to smoke again.

Mr. Mallon released Jim and let him stand upright against the padded bar, giving him a paper handkerchief to wipe away his tears and blow his nose. He noted with satisfaction that Jim's cock had become semi-erect, now about six inches long -- the lashings, while painful, had obviously been sexually stimulating. Jim's hands massaged his ass, which stung like billy-oh from the heat of the cayenne and lemon juice, with each welt feeling like a red-hot pipe laid across his buttocks. Mr. Mallon congratulated him, saying "you took that really well! And you do have a lovely fine ass -- the Headmaster told me what a well-shaped set of buttocks you have, how ready to receive punishment. Now tell me, you are never going to smoke again, are you?"

"I don't smoke, sir..."

"Well then, why did I catch you carrying cigarettes and matches the other day?"

After a pause, Jim replied "Because I wanted you to whip me, sir. You are the most severe punisher, the heaviest hand in the school. We boys compare welts in the shower room, and yours are by far the most painful looking of anybody's. So I wanted to submit to you -- I wanted you to beat me severely."

"Who gave you the cigarettes, then?"

"I won't tell you sir -- I won't rat out another student."

"If you won't tell me, I will have to whip you again!"

Jim swallowed hard, realizing what he was about to commit himself to. Then he stammered, "you can whip me anytime you wish, sir. Whenever you want me, I will be ready."

Mr. Mallon, thought for a moment, and replied, "we have a school rule among us Masters, that we cannot whip a student more than once every two weeks, although as you know a student can be beaten by a different Master every day. I could hand you on to another Master to whip you tomorrow, and another one the day after that, and so on, but I'd rather wait for two weeks and have the pleasure of your naked company again in this room, bent immobile over this whipping bar. So I will see you again in two weeks, stripped and ready for a beating -- ten lashes again. And I will horsewhip you every two weeks after that, until you name the student who gave you the cigarettes. And I trust I will have the satisfaction, each time, of seeing your sexual arousal, your large erect penis."

"Thank you sir. I will not name him, so I will suffer punishment from you every time you wish to whip me, and I will try to become aroused for you to see."

Jim was dismissed, and Mr. Mallon sat down to relax in front of a large flat-screen TV in the corner of his study. He watched and listened on his monitor to the succession of four boys as they were beaten that evening, from the terrified Bob McRoberts, whose smooth white ass had never before felt the sting of a horsewhip. 'He won't soon forget those six lashes,' crowed Mr. Mallon to himself in satisfaction. Whipping those successive boys had given him particular pleasure, especially Jim Prentice. His fine ass, already marked, promised to be a target all through the year... Mr. Mallon felt his own cock stiffening, in the beginnings of an erection.

He remembered with nostalgic pleasure an incident from two years ago; he retrieved the SD card that contained that video record and put it in the player. Apparently, the form master for a Biology class had given the class an unsupervised study period because he had to take an important phone call. Another Master had heard mayhem and commotion in the classroom, walked in and found in progress a masturbating contest!!

Every student had his pants and underwear around his ankles, and penises were in various stages of erection. One boy, Hawkins, was in the middle of his ejaculation, cheered on by the others. There were several pools of semen on the floor from previous contestants. The master shouted "stop this at once!! Clean up the floor, you boys who have dirtied it with your semen. If you are responsible for it, lick it up!!" The hubbub died down to silence as his orders were followed and the boys pulled up their trousers and returned to their seats. Then he had simply said to them "my arm is too tired to whip you. All of you, to Mr. Mallon. Ten lashes each."

The punishments were carried out the following Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, seven boys per evening, suffering alphabetically. (Seventy hard lashes per night was, Mr. Mallon had thought, his limit, so he divided the victims into three groups.) Even two years later Mr. Mallon relished the memory, as he watched -- each boy came into his study, naked, and was fixed over the padded bar with his feet fixed into the restraints, two feet apart. Then their wrists were fitted to the cuffs, and the bar was adjusted, and the leather restraining strap adjusted and tightened to ensure that their buttocks were immobile. Next, with a squeeze sprayer each pair of buttocks was liberally coated with a mixture of lemon and cayenne pepper juice, and he assured the victims that this was designed to make the lashes more painful. Mr. Mallon watched with glee, and the growing erection of his stiffening cock, the successive gleaming buttocks of the twenty-one boys as he imprinted them with his vigorous lashes, to the accompaniment of their shrieks and screams of pain...

Jim returned every other Tuesday for his whipping, as ordered. He usually found two or three other boys waiting to be beaten, and he was always placed last, so he witnessed their pleadings and sobs through the partially open door. Then Jim, stripped, was ordered into the punishment room for the ritual question (which he refused to answer) about the source of that tobacco. Jim was next told to close the heavy door, was restrained and severely flogged with Mr. Mallon's special horsewhip, ten lashes, ten fresh welts.

Finally it was off to home for Christmas at the end of the term -- sitting on the Greyhound was an ordeal for Jim because he had been thrashed only the day before, and his backside hurt so much on the hard seat. He was met at the bus station, hugs and kisses, and driven home to the flat, where a roll-away bed had been set up in the corner of the dining room. Oh, well, it would do for the four weeks, Jim thought. Unpacked, and lunched with the family. Jim's mother seemed very happy and lively, her eyes bright; great fun was had by all. After lunch father offered to take the family to the mall for Christmas shopping, but Jim begged off pleading tiredness after the trip and his Mother said she had other things to do. Jim settled down with a book for the afternoon when his mother not surprisingly announced "I want you, in our bedroom."

Immediately Jim obeyed, and followed her into the bedroom, and she closed the door. "Strip," she ordered delightedly, "I'm going to whip your ass, with this paddle."

It took him no time at all to undress for her (he was getting lots of practice at undressing for whippings). She took one look at Jim's buttocks, covered with ten angry stripes, and exclaimed, "wow!! How did you get those welts?"

"You must have known, Mother, when you registered me into that boarding school, that they practice strict discipline with severe naked whippings, didn't you?"

She nodded. "Actually, that was the reason I chose the school."

"Well, I have been whipped, this term, once by the Headmaster the first day for a demonstration, in front of all the other new students, and nine times by four of the Masters, for various small offences. And I was whipped with a heavy horsewhip only yesterday, by the Chemistry Master, as you can see. Ten lashes. I haven't felt so much pain since you whipped me for breaking a window, years ago! Mr. Mallon, the Master, uses a special horsewhip he prepares for me, soaked in lemon juice and cayenne pepper, to make the beating more painful, more burning, and the stripes more long-lasting and prominent as you see. Right after school starts again in January, I know I am to be whipped again, same way, just as severely, by Mr. Mallon. So I'm sorry, Mother, that you're going to have to share me, but I promise that I'll submit to you, and try to satisfy you utterly, while I'm home."

Jim's Mother was speechless for a moment, as she turned Jim around and ran her hands over her son's raised welts, squeezing them and watching him wince. "Do you know the recipe for Mr. Mallon's preparation? Maybe I can experiment...I wonder if jalapeno pepper juice would work? We'll try. With the stripes I'm going to give you, that will show Mr. Mallon that there's another power in your life!"

She got a couple of pillows that she laid on the end of the bed. "I know you're probably tired after your long journey, so Iie over these pillows with your ass in the air, and I will give you twenty hard whacks with this paddle." The 'paddle' was an evil-looking thing, oak, about two and a half feet long by two inches wide and three-eighths of an inch thick. It had two deep grooves cut into one side, so it would feel like three different stripes, with edges that would hurt a lot. And they did! Jim lay there with my ass on fire from the beating, but thinking of the pleasure his Mother was enjoying from his agony. He suffered four similar beatings from his Mother over the Christmas break, one per week, and a special extra whipping, at his own request, on New Year's Eve at Midnight for Happy New Year. Then came the morning of Jim's departure, packing bags and saying goodbye. Everyone else had left, and his mother was to drive Jim to the bus station.

"Before we go, Mother, would you please give me ten final lashes with the cane? I want to have something fresh to show Mr. Mallon the day after tomorrow." This cane was a thick piece of rattan, with a handle, about four feet long -- they had bought it on the internet, advertised as the kind used for criminal floggings in Singapore. It sure would hurt a lot! Jim removed his trousers and underpants, hoisted his shirt up his back, and bent over the dining-room table. Mother happily got down to business! -- Jim knew that this whipping was a kind of going-away present for her. As he lay there, with his naked ass bent over the edge of the table, he awaited the ten sharp lashes with the cane, his ass aflame as he was trying not to squirm and moan too much 'cos he knew his Mother liked him to keep still and subservient while she whipped him. Whew!! Then back to school on the bus, with her stripes still burning in his pants, for another term...Jim hoped Mother would be fired up for his next holiday...

The second day back at school Jim went to Mr. Mallon as usual at 7 pm, stripped and stepped onto the whipping platform. Mr. Mallon exclaimed "where did you get those wonderful welts, and why?"

"From my mother -- she whipped me for the same reason you do, 'cos I wouldn't tell her about the cigarettes. Like I won't tell you. Sir."

"Well, I really must meet your mother some day! She's a kindred spirit, and very practiced with a whip. Now, I don't want to obliterate the wonderful clear marks she has left on you, so when you step into the restraining shoes I will tip the whole whipping machine a little so your thighs are in easy range." He did so, and Jim was propelled forwards, so his face was nearer the floor and his thighs were at a 45-degree angle, with his balls and cock hanging below.

The ten agonizing lashes with the horsewhip followed -- Mr. Mallon had really not got out of practice! As Jim recovered himself and wiped his tears Mr. Mallon promised "next time we'll put the machine back into its regular alignment. You look so fine now, with twenty red welts extending from the top of your ass to your knees -- a work of art! Go back to your dorm now, naked so all can see. Show the whole school what punishment means."

On the first day at the school the new students had been told that they each had to "fag" for a Prefect, for part of a term. There were two boys for each Prefect, so the job was not too bad. Each boy was assigned regular duties for each day; one of Jim's duties was to go along to his Prefect's private bedroom and wake him up at 7 am. Sort of a living alarm clock... But if he was late, even by a minute, that would earn him a beating from the Prefect. The beating was easily done, because all Jim had to do was to drop his pyjama pants, bend over a chair, and suffer four agonizing sharp whacks with a heavy paddle, about three feet long, that the Prefect used for his weapon. The paddle caused some bruising, and a hell of a lot of stinging pain, but no stripes. It was good for the Prefect -- the exercise woke him up.

In the second term Jim evolved a more-or-less regular routine of beatings, a schedule like home, one each week. Every other Tuesday he went at 7 pm to Mr. Mallon. During the 'off' week, Jim regularly managed to be late for a wake-up, and when he did he would approach the Prefect's bed without pyjama pants, naked from the waist down, and wait for his order. One morning the sleepy prefect said, "you know, it's kind of nice when you're late, because I get to use this big paddle on your ass."

Jim delightedly replied "my ass is available for your pleasure, but only on weeks when I'm not to be whipped on Tuesday by Mr. Mallon. Just say the word and we can arrange a 'late' at your convenience -- once every two weeks, as is the rule. And I know that Prefects are supposed to be limited to only four swats, but you might, if you wish, increase my punishment to six strokes, and as you know you can beat me as hard as you wish. It will be our secret." The Prefect liked those ideas a lot!

So that's the way things went -- one week Mr. Mallon and his horsewhip, the other the Prefect and his paddle giving a thorough thrashing. Ten on Tuesday evening. The new normal. And six almighty thwacks, on the alternative Tuesdays in the morning, with the Prefect's paddle. Tuesdays were Jim's special day.

Two weeks into the new term, on his second Tuesday visit, Jim showed up for his fortnightly flogging from Mr. Mallon, and found him standing next to his whipping post brandishing a new, threatening horsewhip. Jim stripped. The master asked the usual question, about where Jim got the cigarettes, and instead of Jim's usual refusal he asked "if I were to tell you his name, wouldn't you be disappointed? Don't you look forward to my refusal to answer, which is really a way of again giving you a reason to whip me, sir?"

Mr. Mallon thought for a minute, and replied that Jim did have a point, so Jim declared "then I agree to this flogging, and to all future floggings. So please, let's forget your ritual question, and I'll just willingly come every second Tuesday for a horsewhipping." Without another word Jim stepped into the foot restraints, bent over the padded bar, and reached out to the other bar with his hands, saying "you don't need to restrain my feet and hands, you know. I'm a true submissive -- I take pleasure in suffering pain inflicted by someone who dominates me, who takes pleasure in inflicting it. I like knowing that while suffering pain, I give pleasure."

"But that's not how it works," Mr. Mallon replied, as he closed the ankle restraints and secured the cuffs around Jim's wrists. "I know you agree to this punishment because you show up every other Tuesday, you strip off your clothing without being asked and step into the whipping restraints. These restraints stretch you out as well -- making the muscles in your buttocks tense up, which increases the pain of the whip." He paused, while he cinched the restraining belt around Jim's lower back, pulling it tight.

He went on, "as well, part of the punishment is that you are restrained -- you cannot move until I allow it, no matter how long that might be. I might get a phone call, or a summons to a meeting, or whatever -- you are here until I decide you can go. And I could inflict any kind of pain on you -- pour boiling water over your ass, for example. So your submission, allowing yourself to be restrained hand and foot like this, involves you trusting me as your dominant. All submission is trusting submission, and submission is sexually exciting as you show because you have an erection every time you submit to my whip. Right now you can trust me to give you ten agonizing lashes with this whip. Ready?"

Jim replied, after taking a few moments to consider the implications of his response. "I'm restrained, not by these physical restraints but by your request, your command that I assume this position. I would not move until you permit me, no matter how severely you punish me. You can do anything to me that you want -- I will do anything that you ask of me. I am your submissive, and you are my master. So yes, I am ready, for whatever comes!"

Jim nodded, closed his eyes, and waited for the lashes to come, which they quickly and fiercely did, all ten of them, followed by the handkerchief given to Jim, when released, to wipe up tears and blow his nose. Jim keenly felt the burning sensation of the cayenne and lemon juice. But he also sensed that Mr. Mallon wanted something more of him, when he realized that Mr. Mallon was feeling him, exploring his cock and balls. Jim spread his legs wider to allow his master easy access.

After Jim had left, Mr. Mallon reflected on the sexual excitement that Jim's declaration had aroused in him, which was causing his cock to stiffen, straining against his trousers. He resolved to test Jim's submissiveness further on future visits, beginning with the next whipping. Jim showed up as usual, naked, at the study door, after the other students had been punished and dismissed.

"I've decided to test your submissive nature," Mr. Mallon explained, "in several ways. First, I am going to whip you, tonight, without restraining you. I will just order you to stand over there, in the centre of the room, put your hands on your head, and not move. If you do move, or even flinch, I'll know that your submissiveness has its limits."

Without a word Jim moved to the centre of the room and stood still, his feet a little apart, his hands on his head. The blows of the horsewhip, when they came, felt more intense because his buttocks were not stretched and restrained. But he stood still, aside from some involuntary sobs, while the whip-strokes were delivered. Next, Jim received the usual paper handkerchief to wipe his eyes and blow his nose, before Mr. Mallon seized his cock and stroked him to a stiffer erection. Then he was dismissed.